She looked at him coolly. “You were.”
He gritted his teeth together and continued. “What my father said about Mary Winthrop…”
Her mouth fell open. “Is that what you think this is about?”
He stared at her, blinking twice before saying, “Isn’t it?”
“Of course not,” she sputtered. “Good heavens, do you take me for a fool?”
“I…er…no?”
“I hope I know you well enough to know that you would not offer marriage to two women. At least not purposefully.”
“Right,” he said, looking a little confused. “Then what—”
“Do you know why you asked me to marry you?” she demanded.
“What the devil are you talking about?”
“Do you know?” she repeated. She’d asked him once before, and he had not answered.
“Of course I know. It’s because—” But he cut himself off, and he obviously didn’t know what to say.
She shook her head, blinking back tears. “I don’t want to see you right now.”
“What is wrong with you?”
“There is nothing wrong with me,” she cried out, as loudly as she dared. “I at least know why I accepted your proposal. But you—You have no idea why you rendered it.”
“Then tell me,” he burst out. “Tell me what it is you think is so damned important. You always seem to know what is best for everything and everyone, and now you clearly know everyone’s mind as well. So tell me. Tell me, Hyacinth—”
She flinched from the venom in his voice.
“—tell me.”
She swallowed. She would not back down. She might be shaking, she might be as close to tears as she had ever been in her life, but she would not back down. “You did this,” she said, her voice low, to keep the tremors at bay, “you asked me…because of him.”
He just stared at her, making a please elaborate motion with his head.
“Your father.” She would have yelled it, if it hadn’t been the middle of the night.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” he swore. “Is that what you think? This has nothing to do with him.”
Hyacinth gave him a pitying look.
“I don’t do anything because of him,” Gareth hissed, furious that she would even suggest it. “He means nothing to me.”
She shook her head. “You are deluding yourself, Gareth. Everything you do, you do because of him. I didn’t realize it until he said it, but it’s true.”
“You’d take his word over mine?”
“This isn’t about someone’s word,” she said, sounding tired, and frustrated, and maybe just a little bit bleak. “It’s just about the way things are. And you…you asked me to marry you because you wanted to show him you could. It had nothing to do with me.”
Gareth held himself very still. “That is not true.”
“Isn’t it?” She smiled, but her face looked sad, almost resigned. “I know that you wouldn’t ask me to marry you if you believed yourself promised to another woman, but I also know that you would do anything to show up your father. Including marrying me.”
Gareth gave his head a slow shake. “You have it all wrong,” he said, but inside, his certitude was beginning to slip. He had thought, more than once and with an unbecoming gleefulness, that his father must be livid over Gareth’s marital success. And he’d enjoyed it. He’d enjoyed knowing that in the chess game that was his relationship with Lord St. Clair, he had finally delivered the killing move.