Henry didn't feel the rage coming on. It descended on her like a fury, and before she realized what was happening, she was screaming. "Go then! Go! Go to London and have your women! Go and sleep with Christine!"
Dunford went utterly still, his face pinched and white. "What," he whispered, "are you talking about?"
"I know you still keep a mistress," she choked out. "I know you slept with her even while we were engaged, even when you professed your love for me. You said you were playing cards with friends, be-because you wouldn't be seeing very much of them after we married. But I followed you. I saw you, Dunford. I saw you!"
He took a step toward her, his clothing slipping from his fingers. "There has been a terrible mistake."
"Yes, there has," she said, her entire body shaking with emotion. "I was mistaken to think I could ever be enough of a woman to please you, to ever think that I could learn what it means to be anyone else but me."
"Henry," he whispered raggedly, "I don't want anyone else but you."
"Don't lie to me!" she cried out. "I don't care what you say, as long as you don't lie. I can't please you. I tried so hard. I tried to learn the rules, and I wore dresses, and I even liked wearing them, and still it wasn't enough. I can't do it. I know I can't, but I— Oh, God." She crumpled into a chair, overcome by the force of her tears. Her entire body shook with sobs, and she clutched herself, trying to keep from going to pieces. "All I wanted was to be the only one," she gasped. "That's all."
Dunford knelt in front of her, took both of her hands in his, and raised them to his lips in a reverent kiss. "Henry, minx, my love, you're all I want. All I want. I haven't even looked at another woman since I met you."
She looked up at him, tears streaming from her eyes.
"I don't know what you thought you saw in London," he continued. "I can only deduce it was the night I told Christine she would need to find another protector."
"You were there so long."
"Henry, I did not betray you." His hands tightened around hers. "You must believe me. I love you."
She stared into those liquid brown eyes and felt her world come crashing down around her. "Oh, my God," she whispered, shock squeezing her heart. She jerkily rose to her feet. "Oh, my God. What have I done? What have I done?"
Dunford watched the blood drain from her face. "Henry?" he said hesitantly.
"What have I done?" Her voice grew progressively stronger. "Oh, my God." And then she bolted from the room.
Dunford, unfortunately, was a bit too naked to follow her.
Henry ran down the front steps and into the fog. She kept going until she was shielded by trees, until she was sure not a living soul could hear her.
And then she cried.
She sank into the damp earth and sobbed. She had been given a chance at the purest joy on earth, and she had ruined it with lies and distrust. He would never forgive her. How could he, when she could not forgive herself?
Four hours later Dunford was ready to claw the paint from the walls with his fingernails Where could she be?
He hadn't considered sending out a search party; Henry knew the land better than anyone. It was unlikely she'd had an accident, but it was starting to rain, damn it, and she'd been so distraught.
Half an hour. He'd give her half an hour more.
His heart twisted as he relived the agonized expression on her face that morning. Never had he seen such a look of pure torture—unless, of course, one counted the times he'd looked in the mirror this past month.
Suddenly he had no idea why their marriage was such a shambles. He loved her, and it was becoming increasingly apparent that she returned his love.
But there were so many unanswered questions. And the only person who could answer them was nowhere to be found.
Henry stumbled home in a daze. The rain pelted her, but she barely felt its sting. She looked straight ahead, repeating to herself, "I must make him understand. I must."
She had sat at the base of a tree for hours, sobbing until her tears ran out. And then, when her breathing had quieted, she wondered if perhaps she didn't deserve a second chance. People were allowed to learn from their mistakes and move on, weren't they?
And, above all, she owed her husband the truth.
When she reached the front steps of Stannage Park, the door was savagely wrenched open before she could even grasp the knob.
Dunford.
He looked like an avenging, if slightly disheveled, god. His brows were pulled into a firm line, his color was high, his pulse was beating rapidly in his neck, and...and his shirt wasn't buttoned properly.
He hauled her unceremoniously into the front hall. "Do you have any idea what has gone through my mind in the last few hours?" he thundered.
Wordlessly, she shook her head.
He began to tick off his fingers. "A ditch," he bit out. "You could have fallen into a ditch. No, don't say it, I know you know the lay of the land, but you could have fallen into a ditch. An animal could have bitten you. A tree branch could have fallen on you. It's storming, you know."
Henry stared at him, thinking that the windy shower hardly constituted a storm.
"There are criminals," he continued. "I know it's Cornwall. I know it's the end of the earth, but there are criminals. Criminals who wouldn't think twice about...about...Christ, Henry, I don't even want to think about it."
She watched as he raked his hand through his already mussed hair.
"I am going to lock you in your room."
Hope began to flare in her heart.
"I am going to lock you in your room and tie you up and— Oh, for love of God, will you say something?''''