Chapter 31

31

Patience turned slowly to look at him.

Dorian had just witnessed her talking to the maid he'd saved from John Rose all those years ago, and he couldn't move. For the first time, even his beast felt helpless.

It raged and spat and threw things like the horrible demon it was.

But he was numb.

Perhaps, he realized, part of him wanted Patience to find out, even while most of him did not.

Stop the barmaid! his wrath roared. Shut her up!

Perhaps, he distractedly thought as he heard Christine ask for Patience's brother's name, she wouldn't remember.

Perhaps, thought his heart as it shattered, his wife had met this woman by chance.

While he was in London, she had sent him a note with a footman that she was going to go to Oxford to meet Sir James Edward Smith, one of the botanists she had corresponded with. The notion of Patience in Oxford made a heavy feeling churn in his gut. Especially after she'd seen the bill for the treatment of his burns.

However, he wanted to believe her, that she was indeed going to meet Sir Smith.

Patience wouldn't have lied to him like that, surely.

Not Patience.

It was just by chance that she passed by The Bear, and at exact that moment, Christine had walked out.

He had a strange sensation of being at the theater or an opera. That he was a spectator watching the tragedy of his life unfold. Him killing a terrible man, a man who was a rapist, a man who had no honor and had sabotaged his opponent's pistol. And just like in a Greek or Roman tragedy, or an Italian opera, destiny punishing him by having him foolishly try to redeem himself by marrying his victim's sister… Good Lord, he thought, feeling as though he were watching himself from a distance as he stood gaping at his wife on street in Oxford.

He was on the verge of a complete downfall, he knew. No religion in the world would leave him unpunished.

"Patience," he said when Christine ran away.

He was caught between two versions of himself.

The first was the man he had been before his life shattered around him—the demon within, the tyrant driven by rage, who lashed out when overwhelmed by love, loss, and pain.

The second was the man he became after—the man who had learned to love, who truly knew Patience, who wanted to kneel down and bare his soul.

He stood at the very spot where it had all unraveled, where he had read the cursed letter announcing his father's death, witnessed Mr. Rose's assault on Christine, and challenged him to a duel. Here, the better version of himself, forged through Patience's love, could prevail. All he needed was to vanquish the inner demon urging him to wrath and destruction .

But he was not that man.

As guilt shifted across her face, something within him was triggered. In an instant, like the snap of fingers, his darker side won. The fire within him roared to life.

"Dorian," she said softly as she hurried towards him, and he retreated.

"You lied," he snarled before he could stop himself.

"I—" she said, and her face betrayed everything. "I'm sorry."

Damnation.

Why was she not denying everything?

Her apology was disarming, stripping him to the last of his defenses.

"Damn it, Patience. I had plans in the House of Lords, but silly me. I missed you. Couldn't stand a few days without you. So I followed."

Also, he was concerned about her visiting Oxford, learning the truth and hating him…

"Oh, Dorian…" she murmured, all guilty looking.

He showed her the book he'd been holding, Flora Londinensis by William Curtis, and she looked at it longingly. It had roses on it; he had bet she'd love them.

"Oh no…" she whispered.

"I found it earlier this morning in London, thought you'd enjoy immensely identifying local flora. I couldn't think of anything but giving it to you," he whispered. "I couldn't stay away so I canceled my plans and came straight to Oxford. Mademoiselle Antoinette said you were having a meeting with Sir Smith in the town center, so here I am."

"Dorian…"

"I wanted to take you to the botanical garden you'd dreamed of going to, the one that belongs to the Earl of Chans, who's a good friend of Pryde. I was also hoping to spend a few days with you alone at Briarstone Park, my estate near Oxford. I seldom visit, but it has hills and brooks and a beautiful house kept up by the staff. I imagined how much you would love it. Perhaps you might want to live there once your year is up." The idea that she would choose to live apart from him at the end of the year tore his insides to pieces, but he would honor his word and his contract, even if it meant dying of loneliness without her.

She went utterly still.

The wind tugged at her golden locks under her elaborate bonnet, decorated with what looked like a bird on top and peacock feathers.

It looked as wrong on her as a palm in the middle of a snowstorm.

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "I lied to you."

"Goddamn it. Patience, I came to bring you all of the things you ever desired, but you deceived me."

She nodded, her cheeks reddening even more. "I did. But I also finally found out the truth."

He went rigid, as stiff as a board. "You did?"

He couldn't breathe; his lungs felt like they were full of water. He stared at her face, watching for any sign of anger, hurt, disgust, but her big blue eyes were full of regret and guilt, her plush pink mouth with that gorgeous Cupid's bow slightly open as though in surprise.

"So then why are you apologizing? And you're not appalled?" he asked carefully.

"I am appalled with John," she said, her cheeks gaining color. "I'm sorry I thought there was something sinister that you were hiding. But you were merely trying to protect my family and me from the knowledge that my brother had forced himself on a woman. "

Dorian stood, blinking. This was his chance to correct her, to tell her the whole truth. And yet, his mouth was not moving.

"That was the Oxford incident," she said as she stepped closer to him, her eyes shining, a sweet smile on her lips.

No… No!

She couldn't look at him like at a hero, like she adored him, loved him.

He should say something. Contradict her.

"But you protected Christine. You had nothing to hide from me, Dorian. All this time, you were protecting my memory of John. He must have killed himself because he was caught in a dishonorable act."

How had she come to this conclusion? He gaped, unable to muster the words to contradict her, to tell her how worthless he was. That he was no hero. That he was the villain who had taken her brother's life.

And yet, a cowardly thought came, it would resolve everything if he let her believe this…

She took his hand in hers, the one in the glove. He winced a little from the pain.

"We can let go of it now," she whispered. "It's over. There are no more secrets between us. And now, please take me to the estate, show me the book, and when are we going to visit the botanical gardens you talked about?"

Dorian swallowed a hard knot. "You will not be searching anymore?"

"No, I found everything I wanted. I'm married to a wonderful, honorable man, and I could not be happier."

Dorian's heart shattered. He could never truly be the man she believed him to be.