I Am A Lady #Wattys2015

Chapter Thirty Two

George stared after the carriage from the window of his study, the sting of Clarisse's force against his face still sharp. He wanted to believe his wife had no hand in what happened to him, Clarisse had mentioned forgers but he was inclined to believe what he did. Whenever he would ask her about Angelo she had never offered him any information.  He had inquired as to how she felt about him, all she had ever said was he was the one in her life, Angelo was dead and gone.

He had read and re-read the letters, all the words she used, the way she wrote to her father it was the same. He had asked Clarisse to burn the letters he had no more strength left within him. He feared if he read them one more time he would surely kill her and that would make him no better than her.

As the carriage disappeared a thought ran through his mind, she had looked quite pale, her beautiful ever glowing skin had lost its shine. She had wavered a little while she spoke, he assumed it was out of the anger she was feeling. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. 'Why do I care what she feels? She does not love me and has reunited with her lover. She's probably on her way to him as I speak,' he paced up and down his study before stopping at his desk and sending all its contents to the floor.

He watched the papers land on the floor and felt no relief. His wife was gone. He had finally made her leave. He thought back to when she had first arrived, their conversations were limited. He had planned to leave her once he had had her, but after he did he could not imagine himself being with any other woman. Her hazel eyes that were always prying, he felt a sting in his chest. George had never fallen in love, he had never allowed himself to. When all his friends were falling over women he was making sure they fell over him. The last few days with his wife were blissful. He was happy, they talked, they laughed, they enjoyed each other's company.

Until those letters arrived.

Angelo had looked quite satisfied with himself when he was leaving. He had a look upon his face that suggested he had achieved quite the feat.

Annabelle was gone, he would not allow it. She was his wife, she was meant to stay with him. Before the church, before God, before him, she had promised. He would not let her leave. He would never let Angelo have the upper hand. Angelo would be the one to suffer knowing the woman he loved spent her nights lying next to another man.

He left the study making all the noise he possibly could. Clarisse came to top of the staircase and simply stared. She knew the temper of the man walking out the door, she knew where he was going. He was going after his wife. She smiled to herself and hoped she could right all the wrongs the so called Angelo had brought into their lives.

She was awaiting Arthur's return. Knowing him, he had stopped by a brothel or two. It is a wonder that man has not died from ailments she thought to herself. She had never seen a man like him. He loved and committed to none but himself. He had women tickle his fancy and untickle it just as fast. George all but slammed the door bringing Clarisse back to her surroundings. She leaned against the wall and let out a breath. Her mind falling back to what Arthur had mentioned about Sir Ashton. She thought to herself, maybe it was time Sir Ashton made her acquaintance.

She walked up and down the market stalls looking at nothing in particular, until her eyes landed on him. She found it quite uncomfortable how the English would pass on information to any ear willing to listen. She had made innocent inquiries of Sir Ashton and his life while looking about the fruits and vegetables and the stories she heard.

He was a man that kept to himself. Many a woman in the market had mentioned he was far older than he looked but none mentioned his father or Angelo. When she saw him coming her way. She brought her perfectly made braid over her shoulder and readied herself to approach him, this however was not necessary. When she looked up his eyes were firmly on her and smile upon his lips. Men were far too easy, Clarisse had made one too many of them believe she was besotted when all she wanted was their information.