He swung her into his arms, too close for her comfort. Molly tried to step away, put a little space between them, but she may have been trying to shift a limb of a tree for all the good her actions did. "You're holding me too tight, Duke."
His wicked grin made her countenance slip, and she narrowed her eyes. He chuckled. "So much fire in your veins. I have missed you, my darling love."
Her heart gave a thump at his words. Damn him and his sweet endearments. His playing with her was cruel and unkind. "You can no longer call me your darling love. I am not."
One brow rose with a disbelieving air. "Are you certain, my darling love? I know that my feelings have not changed from the moment you abandoned me in Rome."
"I did not abandon you, I left you perfectly capable of looking after yourself with your staff. Has your memory failed you so miserably that you cannot remember why I left in the first place?"
"Oh, I remember, and I'm in London to ensure you believe the truth, if not from my lips, then from those who know what really happened."
Molly shot a look at Hugh, a little glimmer of hope taking light inside her that there may be someone who knew what really happened. As much as she wished she could believe him, her family had thought Laura's lover was Hugh. Why would anyone lie about such a thing? Her aunt and uncle would never have made up such a falsehood.
The dance pulled them into a couple of tight turns, and his clutch increased, keeping her locked against his person. Her body purred in response as if it remembered what he made her feel, wanting more of the same. She could not give in to his seductive charms. Not without knowing the truth behind his banishment. What she needed to do was speak to her aunt and uncle.
"I have ordered your staff to pack your things to move into St. Albans London house. Your place is with me."
She huffed out a breath—the audacity of the man. "I will not be going anywhere with you. As far as I still understand, you ruined my cousin and left without a backward glance. Agreed to funds over honor. I'm surprised that you're here in London at all. When I left Rome, I had the distinct feeling that I knew what my cousin went through when you let her go without a fight."
"I never ruined your cousin. Why will you not believe me?" She swallowed, sensing his visage of an aloof, sanguine gentleman was slipping. "It was not me who laid one finger on your cousin. It was my brother." A muscle worked in his jaw, and he stared at her, hard. Frustration burned in his stormy gaze.
Molly wished she could believe him, wished she had not lived for years, knowing another tale. Somewhere between the start of their dance and their conversation, they had stopped dancing. Out of her peripheral vision, she could see other couples continued to waltz about them. "I'm sorry, Hugh, but I do not know whom to believe."
"If we're to stay as we were in Rome, I need you to trust me."
"Trust you? You did not even marry me using your real name. How can I trust you? If you were not trying to hide your identity, why did you not tell me the truth? All of it, the weeks we spent together look like a falsehood now. How can I trust you ever again?"
"First, I signed the marriage register with St. Albans, you just did not notice it. Second, I would not be in London, having the ton gossip and sneer behind my back unless what I said was the truth. Unless I knew they were wrong, and I was right. My friends, the Duke of Whitstone and Duncannon believe me, but you do not. I do not understand it. I thought you loved me. Was that a misunderstanding on my behalf?"
The music faded to a stop, and she pulled out of his hold and strode for the entrance hall. She needed to leave. How could he ask her such a question? He knew as well as herself how much she adored and loved him. To be angry with her made no sense. It was not she who had done the wrong thing. He had. A youth at the time or not, did not excuse his actions.
He caught up to her in the foyer as a footman was handing her her pelisse. Hugh clasped her hand, calling for his carriage.
"I can have a Hackney cab called. I do not need you to return me to my home."
"The hell I'll allow my duchess to travel in a hackney." The black, highly polished carriage rolled to a halt before the townhouse's front steps. Hugh held out his hand to assist her into the vehicle, and she ignored his proffered hand, climbing up herself.
He followed, calling for St. Albans house. She scowled at him across the shadowy space that separated them. "I'm not staying at Grosvenor Square. You cannot make me."
"I can, and you will. Whether you love me anymore, trust, or believe me, St. Albans House is where its duchess resides. You will be safe there, be well cared for when I return to Rome."
She could not look at him when he mentioned such things. So he intended to leave her? Of course, he would, if she could not believe or love him as she had in Rome, what was left for him in London? Her heart ached at the very idea of Hugh living so very far away from her. If her aunt confirmed Hugh as the one who had ruined Laura, what was she to do? The man she fell in love with in Italy was honorable, sweet, and kind. So very loving to her, at least.
Her cousin had been played the fool, so how could she forgive such treatment to soothe her own selfish wants and needs from the same man? An older, more mature Hugh than Laura obviously knew. An impossible choice.
"Very well, I shall stay at St. Albans House, but until I know who is telling me the truth and who is not, I do not wish to live as husband and wife. Please do not expect me to open my apartment doors to you. I will not."
His eyes flashed with annoyance, and for the life of her she could not look away. To stay away from her husband would be a chore, Molly had no doubt about that. Her body yearned for his touch, his lips on her flesh, what his clever hands and mouth could do that sent her pulse to race. Her core ached at the memory of their last coming together, and she crossed her arms over her chest.
"When you learn the truth, my love, and you will, I expect recompense for the time that I've had to live without you."
She scoffed at him. "And if you are proven to be the ruiner of young, unmarried women, what do I get? Oh, let me tell you. A farcical marriage to a man who will live hundreds of miles away from me and I stuck with society forever laughing at me that I had been fool enough to marry the man who ruined my cousin."
"They do not know Miss Cox was your cousin. And anyway, I am right, and you are wrong, so it will all work out in the end."
"It will only be a matter of time before they do know Laura was a relation." She shook her head. "You're so very sure you'll be proven innocent."
He leaned forward, his beautiful features coming more into focus as they rumbled through the London streets. "Do you not wish to see me proven innocent? You seem determined to believe everyone else except me."
Molly wanted to reach out, soothe the hurt she could read in his eyes, but she did not. Instead, she slumped back onto the squabs and watched the passing houses in Mayfair go by. "I have invited my aunt and uncle to stay. If anyone knows the truth it is them, and then I shall know how to act."
Chapter 14
The following weeks in the St. Albans house were not a comfortable existence, certainly not for Hugh. His wife went about her days, paying calls, visiting her close friends, and hosting them in return. Outwardly, the ton believed that they were a happily married couple. That Miss Molly Clare had tamed the rogue Lord Hugh Farley, now Duke of St. Albans, but they would be wrong.