Chapter 92

“I lost track of you, My Lord,” Mendora stole away to join Solaire. Engaged or not their meetings should not be so clandestine. The balcony was secluded and not much would think to venture out. Neither would she if Russell hadn’t point her in this direction.

For a moment she’d almost mistaken the figure leaning over the balustrade for a statue or some menacing creature prone to prowling the night. On closer inspection, allowing her eyes to adjust to the limited glow of light, the silhouette unmistakably belonging to Solaire.

“It seems you’ve no issue in finding me,” he did not appraise her with his eyes, nor did he wish too. Stamped into his brain was the image of her when she had strolled through the doors earlier tonight. There was no need for a reminder of how she had stolen his breath with her raw beauty and grace.

Mendora scrubbed her brain for a reply, abandoned the need for it when she realised it was not a conversation she knew how to continue. “Are we to hide away here for most of the night?” she closed the distance, coming to mirror his exact pose. Leaning her arms down on the balustrade and casting her eyes upon the view.

Shadows, of different shades, engulfed the trees, shrubbery, statutes and the pathways. Still, she was able to catch a glimpse of moving shadows and came to realise that the gardens were occupied. Probably by those curious to bask in its magnificence for Mendora endorsed that one does know an area unless one has experienced it at night. Under the cover of the waning moon, full of shadows and mystery.

“Not too long ago you enjoyed hiding,” he crooned, his voice almost unrecognisable to Mendora’s ear.

“I still do,” she admitted with a smile despite him unable to see, refreshed by the crisp wind gushing past her face. What she wouldn’t give to be able to take her hair down and have it dance without restriction. For it to move with the rhythm of the wind.

“The attention you’ve been receiving tonight can indicate otherwise,” he straightened, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets. His eyes not once sneaking a glance at her.

“I beg your pardon?” She twisted, righting herself as she stared at his profile. All hard, unforgiveable lines that appeared hostile in the poor lightening. Silence stretched for seconds and Mendora could not withhold herself for a reply.

“Will you not look at me?” A wave of nausea passing through her. This was not the man she spent the night with. He was different. Guarded and unfeeling. Mendora could not bring herself to like his version of him one bit.

Understanding his shift in mood was a trial in itself and she didn’t have the heart to delve into any assumptions. Solaire seemed to inhale with unconcealed exasperation. Facing her, looking down so that their eyes meet, his features hardened. “Is there something in particular you wish me to see that I have not already?”

His words stung and Mendora could not control the way her eyes and face muscles flinched. “I don’t…” her voice drowned out as her thoughts became interrupted, growing stressed that there were no emotions in his eyes. “Are you not commenting on my change? Will you not ask me my motivations, my reasons?” How could he comment to have seen her when he barely looked at her all night? Admittedly, Solaire saw her true from far before her decision tonight but there was a difference.

Tonight she was an elegant debutante not a sexual being forged to solicit and guard his desire. Tonight was innocent and he’d not seen her in her true form as an innocent. That is what she had been most excited for, to see whether his lust for her would remain once they were in polite society. To broker a different era of their relationship.

“I see no need to do either of those things. The decision was made and,” he huffed out a condescending laugh while gesturing at her, “effected with perfection.” But there was none of the admiration and emotion she’d seen over the past weeks and she was made to wonder if they had ever existed. Had she been imagining his kindness? His desperation to have her by his side? Had it all been a conjuring of her love struck mind?

“I-I thought you’d be happy.” She glanced down at her fingers, a hot stream of embarrassment flooding her nervous system. Her words mostly directed to herself, for she had done all in hopes of his approval and somehow in her mind, she saw this playing out differently.

Assuming that Solaire would have been proud to have *her* on his arm and not her deformed counterpart that society shunned.

“Did that impression dawn on you before or after you discussed your plans with me?” He’d moved forward, his eyes scorching her skin with pure heat. His voice low and visceral in its delivery. Mendora could do little but raise her eyes to meet his and even then the force of his gaze caused her to cower. A reaction she’d not given anyone the liberty of forcing from her. Not for a long time.

“Right, I almost forgot,” a sinister smile spreading across his lips as he lowered himself closer to her, “you acted alone. Making decisions unilaterally, without consideration for me and my needs.” His teeth glistened as they caught the light. The shift causing her to remember herself.

“Your needs?” She spat, gasping for air as she fought not to laugh. “What needs of yours have I overlooked?” Her voice was becoming strained. “I did this for you!” she pointed her finger into his chest until her joints ached from the force.

“For me?” Solaire grabbed up her hand by the wrist, ceasing her jabbing into him. “Explain that to me? What exactly do you think you’ve done for me.” He was seething and his anger only roused hers even more.

“I did not wish to be an embarrassment to you and the title to which you hold,” her voice trembling as she fought to regain control of her emotions. “I wanted to be a partner, a wife you’d be proud off, I thought that would make you happy,” her voice cracked as she finished off-loading.

“And who asked you to change anything?” he tugged at her, “Hmm?” his jaw clenching tight. “What possessed you to think that was what *I* wanted?” he dropped her arm, not wanting to feel any part of her against him. Not when even in anger he wanted her. “I was perfectly content with things as they are.” He shook his head, running his hand through his hair in frustration, “no, you did this for you.” He accused her with emotion Mendora could only interpret as hatred and disgust.

“How ungrateful are you?” She wanted to scream the words from her lungs but the crowd inside prevented her. “How delusional?” cried out with every ounce of frustration she had in her. “You would have me hide our entire lives together?” her chest was heaving, the viens at her temples throbbing, “To have the world ridicule you for having the most undesirable wife in all of London? You cannot tell me you would be fine with that.”

“Why does it matter what they think of you? Doesn’t it only matter that I know you? That I want you?” He was spiralling, his mother’s words burning a spot in his mind.

“Are all women the same?”

*Best to treat her properly, for there are many who will wish to steal her from you even in marriage.*

How was he to have a peaceful mind when Mendora could easily make him a fool, just as his mother did to his father. “Do you know why my father is not here tonight despite my invitation?” he glared at Mendora as if she had occasioned some great hurt upon him, “because she has shared her bed with countless men and caused us great shame in society, is that what you wish to do as well?”

Mendora could not understand the shift in conversation; in accusations. While she’d not known their family history with precise accuracy this had nothing to do with them. What connection could it pose? Unless…

Her heart thundered in her ear, threatening to deafen her to every other sound, “You,” Mendora took a large breath, “Are you suggesting that being myself guarantees that I will embarrass you?” her breath was shallowing, “by entertaining other men?”

“Isn’t this alteration a mechanism to attract others?” he glanced down at her in the most patronising manner ever, “you already had me so who else are you attempting to convince of your charms?”

Mendora shook her head, gripping the sides of her skull with her hands, “You wanted me when I appeared to be undesirable to the world because you thought no one else would compete for my affection?” she said incredulously, the lack of response confirming her thoughts. “How shallow are you, Solaire? How incredibly damaged for you to think that I would think of betraying you. If I were to be the cast out forever, that would make you happy? Because the chances of anyone else wanting me would be nil?”

“If you are marrying me why does anyone else need to want you, Mendora?” he countered but Mendora could hardly find the strength to continue this argument.

“No!” She pointed a finger at him, causing him to pause, to stare at her with tense eyes, “do not make me out to be self-serving. I wanted to be the best version of myself for you because I love you. That is what people do when they love each other,” The confession was past her lips and in the air before she could censor it but she paid it no mind. Not until Solaire’s anger slowly dissipated and was replaced with something else; discomfort.

“You do not love me,” she whispered, her heart coming to an abrupt stop, “do you?” watching carefully as he averted his gaze.

She scoffed, swallowing back the emotion. “It was all control. Marry the girl who was secretly a slut for you while ensuring no one else would ever see her worth or beauty. It was to just secure you and your anxieties for marriage. You didn’t want me, you wanted my façade because she would boost your ego,”

“Mendora, now is not the time,” He’d seen shadows approaching, their voices would carry and their discussion no longer private. “we’ll finish this later,” he said, moving past her. He didn’t wait for her reaction or reply and he was gone. Leaving Mendora to make sense of the emotions swirling through her like a tidal wave.