Chapter 36

"Dunford, take my glass," Thomas said, frowning, holding out his tumbler to his friend. "Quickly."

As his friend took the glass, Thomas's frown deepened as he watched the scene unfolding before his eyes. He had been feeling unsettled for a while as he watched the Earl of Afferton talking with his wife, but he had tried to ignore his suspicions, telling himself he was just suffering from the green-eyed beast as always.

But he couldn't help glancing back at them. Lord Afferton was getting increasingly closer to his wife. He took her elbow, leaning down, placing his face so close to hers that it almost looked like he was trying to kiss her.

Thomas started to get really concerned when he saw Catherine's face. She looked devastated, drawing away from the Earl and shaking her head vigorously.

And then she simply hiked up the skirt of her gown and started running across the lawn, towards the far end of the grounds.

Thomas didn't think. He simply took off after her, running like the wind. He saw shocked faces in his peripheral vision as he flew past them, even knocking a glass out of the hand of one gentleman, sending it flying into the air. But he didn't look back, nor did he care. His sole focus was Catherine.

She was a fast runner, ducking and diving between trees. He finally caught up with her when she had almost reached the maze, grabbing her arm and stopping her mid-flight. She spun around, colliding with him.

"Catherine." He was panting hard, trying to catch his breath. "What on earth is the matter?"

To his shock, she put her hands on his chest and pushed him back so hard that he staggered slightly.

"What was that for?" He gaped at her. "What is going on?"

She looked furious, her green eyes glittering dangerously, her cheeks flushed. Her hairpins had been dislodged during her run, and now, her hair was half hanging down, tangled and messy.

"I will not be made the laughingstock of the ton," she cried, tears springing to her eyes. "If you are having an affair with another woman, why cannot you be discreet at least?"

He kept gaping at her. "What the deuce are you talking about? I am not having an affair! Why do you say such a thing?"

"Oh, stop lying to me," she growled, glaring at him. "Lady Isabella just happens to be everywhere we go?"

He swore underneath his breath. "I do not ask her to appear," he said, staring at her. "She just appears and approaches me. It would be impolite to snub her. There is nothing more to it than that." He took a deep, ragged breath. "You think I am having an affair with the lady based on that?"

She kept glaring at him. "No, not just because of that, but I have noticed how she keeps popping up wherever you are, batting her eyelashes and flirting outrageously with you. Other people have noticed too, Thomas."

He shrugged. "I cannot help what other people think. They will always make false assumptions." He frowned. "But you are my wife, Catherine. You should know that just because a lady is flirting with someone does not necessarily mean anything…"

"Oh, yes, if she were just flirting with you, then perhaps I could turn a blind eye," Catherine said in a tight, angry voice. "But it is much more than that. Your affair with her is an open secret. I was just informed about it."

His jaw dropped. "What? By whom?"

"That does not matter." She jutted her chin, glaring at him. "What matters is that other people are aware of it. And now I am aware of it, Thomas. Your secret is exposed."

Thomas cursed underneath his breath again. He was shocked by her accusation, and now, he was furiously angry. He knew who had informed her of this supposed affair. It was so obvious as to be blinding.

"So that was what Lord Afferton was saying to you when I saw him accost you," he said, his face tightening. "I should have known it was something like that to provoke such an extreme reaction."

"Are you denying it?" Her voice was outraged.

He took a step closer to her, gazing down at her. "Of course, I deny it," he hissed. "It is outrageous! I am not having an affair with Lady Isabella Lyndon. Not now, not in the past, and certainly not in the future."

Her eyes narrowed. "I do not believe you. I have watched you flirting with her!"

"I was not flirting with her," he insisted, glaring down at her. "I admit that she was flirting with me, but I was only polite in return. Besides, she flirts with many gentlemen. She flirts with Dunford, and she was flirting with Oakdale just now as well."

Catherine was silent, her chest rising and falling, glaring at him. He took another tentative step closer to her. He did not want to touch her yet for fear she would spurn him and overreact again.

"That time of my life is over, Catherine," he assured her in a soft voice. "You are my wife now. I will never break my vows to you."

She stared at him, her eyes flickering uncertainly. He took the risk, reaching out for her hand, but she snatched it away before he could take it.

"I wish I could believe you," she said in a faint, strained voice, gazing at him steadily. "I want to believe you."

"Then believe me," he pleaded, holding out his hand to her, his heart lurching. "I swear to you, I am not having an affair with Lady Isabella or any other lady. I will never have an affair with anyone. I am married to you." He hesitated. "Do you think I would do such a thing when I saw how adultery affected my parents' marriage? How it broke apart our entire family and ruined my father?"

Catherine was silent, blinking rapidly. He could tell that she was at least contemplating what he was saying. He edged a little bit closer, trying to press his point.

"I would never do that," he affirmed, his tone so vehement that it surprised even himself. "And apart from that, the thought of being with another woman is anathema to me." His heart somersaulted in his chest as he gazed at her. "I made a vow to you, but it is not only that. You are the only woman I want, Catherine."

Catherine looked agonized, biting her lip, her eyes glistening with tears. He waited to hear how she would respond to him, his body thrumming with tension.

Tell her you are in love with her. Tell her before it is too late and you lose her.

He cursed under his breath. He didn't know how to say it. He didn't know if it was something she wanted to hear. He was riddled with insecurity, envisioning her rejecting him or even laughing at him.

But he knew it went deeper than even that. If he laid his love for her at her feet, he was risking it all. He was admitting to her that he couldn't live without her. And what if she decided that his love wasn't enough for her, just as his mother had decided his father's love wasn't enough?

He swore again, trying to say the words that would heal this, but they were stuck in the back of his throat, choking him.

Catherine exhaled slowly. She seemed calmer now, but she still did not want him near her. She took a step away, gazing at him steadily. His heart lurched again. He knew how he could make this right, so why couldn't he just say it?

"I need to be alone," she said in an even voice. "I need to think."

He nodded, swallowing past the bile in his throat. "I respect that." He managed to smile at her. "I respect you, Catherine."

I love you. You are the only woman I will ever love.

The unspoken words hovered in the air, but she didn't hear them, of course. She smiled sadly at him before turning away, walking towards the maze.

"Should you go in there?" he called, frowning. "You had a devil of a time of it finding your way out of the last one…"

Catherine smiled ruefully. "I am afraid that the maze I must figure my way out of is not the one standing before me."

Thomas's heart clenched with sorrow. He tried to smile at her, but his face felt frozen. He watched her disappear into the maze, his hands balling into fists at his sides, desperate to follow her but knowing he must respect her desire for privacy.

He cursed aloud, before turning away and slowly making his way back to the party. Every fiber of his being was telling him to follow her, to finally say what needed to be said, to lay his heart at her feet, once and for all.

He resisted it with great effort. He would give her the space that she needed, knowing that when she emerged from that maze, he might lose her forever.

Catherine walked through the maze, barely looking as she turned left and then right, taking no notice of the path. A part of her wished she could stay lost in here forever—that the tall hedges would simply swallow her entirely.

It was cooler in here and blessedly silent. She could barely discern the sound of the partygoers talking and laughing. A slight breeze ruffled her hair, cooling her neck. She glanced at the sky. It was cobalt blue with not a whisper of a cloud in it, and the sun was shining brightly. At least she knew that she was in no danger of being rained on this time.

Suddenly, she stopped. There was a park bench just ahead of her. She sat down, gazing around, momentarily spellbound by a small caterpillar crawling on the ground.

He told you that he is not having an affair. He swears it. He looked so sincere. But then how could Patrick have gotten it so wrong?

Her face contorted in an effort not to burst into noisy tears. She inhaled deeply, fighting the urge with all her might. She was a strong woman, and she would not be broken by this. She would survive. She always had, and she always would.

But do you want to live without him? Can you live without him? What kind of a life would it be?

Catherine sighed, gazing up at the sky. She knew what kind of life it would be. It would be dull and colorless and altogether bland. It would be like trying to live without poetry or music or art or any of the beautiful things in this world that made life worth living.

He was the most beautiful song she had ever heard. How could she bear to close her ears to his tune?

She bit her lip, battling her feelings, trying to make sense of them all. One of them was lying. But Patrick was her friend—he was one of her oldest friends. What motive could he have for lying to her about her husband having an affair, other than to try to prove himself right?

She blinked. Thomas was a known rake, and she did not know him as well as Patrick. How could she? They had been married for only two short weeks.

Her heart flipped. But oh, what weeks they had been.

And did the brief time she had known Thomas mean that he wasn't trustworthy? Why couldn't he be genuine and mean what he said when he told her he had turned over a new leaf?

Catherine dropped her head in her hands. Her mind was whirling again. She was so confused that she couldn't think straight…

Abruptly, she heard the snapping of a twig. She looked up, and color drained from her face when the gentleman suddenly appeared in front of her.

She felt outraged at the invasion of her privacy. What was he doing here?