"Thank you, yes." Molly couldn't imagine what she was going to say to Hugh. How would she face him knowing who he really was? A stranger she did not know, not really. The forthcoming confrontation left a hollow feeling in her chest and dread to pool in her stomach. How did one leave a marriage? The idea was too awful to contemplate.
Molly found Hugh in his tablinum upon her return to the villa. She shut the door and poured herself a well-needed brandy before seating herself across from him. His eyes followed her, hungry and burning with appreciation.
Normally his heady intent would have her slipping onto his lap to let him do as he wished, but not tonight and possibly never again. The idea of not being with him, her Mr. Armstrong, her husband making love to her, and spending time and doing all the things they had planned made her want to scream at the universe.
"Good evening, wife. How did you enjoy the ball? You did not stay overly long. Is everything well?"
She downed her drink, slamming the crystal glass onto his desk. "I did not enjoy it at all, unfortunately."
He sat back in his chair, and the heat that was banked in his eyes a moment before was replaced with unease. "Why is that? Did something happen?"
Molly shook her head, the image of her cousin and her small child dead in their coffin rising up in her mind like a ghoul. How could he have treated them like that? As if they were not worthy of his name and protection. How could she have married the very man who had ruined her cousin's life and the lives of her relatives? They had been devastated by the death of their only daughter. To this day, her aunt’s wailing screams when Laura passed from this world would haunt her for the rest of her days.
She bit back tears, schooling her features. "I'm curious, Hugh, just what I should call you. Mr. Armstrong, whom I married, Lord Farley after what I was told this evening, His Grace, the Duke of St. Albans? Perhaps Duke will suffice since we're on intimate terms."
"Hugh will be just fine." His voice held an edge of steel, and she wanted to bend that metal rod, twist it, so it was no longer so rigid and unforgivable.
"You're Lord Farley? Now the Duke of St. Albans. I do not understand."
"I am now." He nodded, raising his brow. "You've heard of my family?"
She scoffed, wishing she did not know of his family as well as she did, but that was never to be. The past had occurred, the horrors along with it, and there was no changing that. "Lord Hugh Farley fled England after he was accused of dallying with an heiress, getting a child onto her, and leaving her to face the ton's wrath. Alone."
He didn't say anything, merely watched her in silence, and the urge to throw something at him, break his calm visage, overwhelmed her. Molly clasped the handles of the chair, forcing herself to not move.
"Did you ruin Miss Laura Cox, Hugh?"
"Who told you that I did? Lady Brandon? She is no reliable source, and I would not believe everything that she has to say."
"I've known Rose for some years, and trust her word. Stop hesitating. Are you the one who society cast out due to your actions toward Laura?"
A muscle worked in his jaw. His lips thinned. "I am the very man who was forced to leave England over the scandal. But not everything is as it seems, Molly. Allow me to explain, and you may think differently."
Molly slapped a hand over her mouth, having heard enough. "See things differently." She stood. "You must be jesting. I will never see anything of that situation other than what occurred. You slept with my cousin, ruined her, and then left her for dead. She did die by the way, during the birth of your son. Did you know that?"
He stared at her, his eyes wide, his face draining of color. "Laura was your cousin? But your last name was Clare. I knew Miss Cox in town, and not once did I see you with her."
"My uncle made his fortune importing and exporting goods from India, he married my father's sister. My father is a vicar. A modest life and income, and because I was a few years younger than Laura, when her fall from grace occurred, I was sent away to France to school. To remove me from the scandal and to keep my reputation safe."
"We were both sent away. I'm sorry for what happened to Laura, but let me explain my side of events. You will see that I'm innocent in all this."
Molly strode to the door. A chair scraped behind her, and before she could open the door but an inch, Hugh was behind her, slamming it shut. She turned, glaring at him. "I married the one man my family and I swore to curse for the rest of our days. How can I return home and tell my parents, aunt, and uncle, that I have slept with our enemy? The very man who ruined a woman's life. You left her to die. For days she suffered in childbirth, and not one word from you."
"You do not know what you speak," he said frowning. "I cared for Laura as a friend, but that is all. I did not do what you accuse me of."
"Really, then tell me, Your Grace, who did? Your elder brother, perhaps? You cannot think that I would believe that your mother would go about society as she did, sorrowful and apologetic for her younger son's actions. No mother would throw the blame on one child over the other, especially if they were innocent of the charge."
He scoffed, running a hand through his hair and leaving it on end. "You did not know my mother." The words were self-derogatory, and she hated that this was what was happening to them.
"You go by the name Mr. Armstrong?" she asked, needing clarification.
"It's my mother's maiden name and not commonly known. A vicar's daughter would not know the intimate details of a duke's marriage that took place years before, now would she?"
The words were cutting, and Molly felt the nick of his tongue's blade just as severe as if he'd cut her with the physical object himself. So, now she was not good enough for him? Not high enough on the social ladder to circulate and know the Duke of St. Albans intimate details?
"I will pack my things and be gone by the morning."
"The hell you will." He glared at her, his eyes narrowing in anger, and yet fear, not hate lurked in his dark depths. Not that it would change her mind. He could not keep her here, no matter what he said or thought. She would return to England and forget her few weeks in Italy.
Or at least try and forget her time here.
Her heart ached at the very thought of it.
"You cannot stop me, Hugh. I will leave you and be gone by morning. Nothing you say or do will change that fact." The thought of their farce marriage near crumbled her resolve to remain strong. “We’re not even married. All this time I’ve been living in sin and with a man I do not even know.”
“We are married. I signed the register St. Albans, not Armstrong.”
“That does not make it legal,” she seethed, blinking to stem her tears. “In a court of law, I highly doubt that would make our marriage legitimate.”
A muscle worked in his jaw as he thought over her words. “We will marry again. Without the guise of Armstrong.”
She shook her head. Who was this man? “I will not marry Lord Farley, not now or ever. I’m returning to England.”
"And so that is all I deserve. You choose to believe I am capable of such a crime and do not believe me when I tell you otherwise."