He looked at her. Charlotte was staring at the ground, silent tears slipping down her face. For a moment he had a flash of pity, but he ruthlessly thrust it away. Just so had Maria cried and begged forgiveness for her past. Just so had she promised never to dally with another man again, protested that his skill in bed was so great that she would be happy to stay with him all her days. And only two weeks later he had walked in on her and his head footman, energetically performing in the matrimonial bed. Alex’s fists curled. This time he would handle it better. His wife would live in Scotland, and he in London. She could raise his daughter, and he would never have to see her again. And damn anyone who wondered why his wife lived in Scotland. He would set up a mistress and squelch all the rumors about his potency—in fact, maybe he would sleep only with noblemen’s wives. Since he was an arrant cuckold, why not do the same to others?

His eyes fired with purpose. Alex took Charlotte’s arm roughly and pushed her over toward their luggage, piled in the corner.

“Begin packing,” he said coldly. He rang the bell for Charlotte’s maid. “We’re leaving. Tell Marie to wake up Pippa and Miss Helms.”

Charlotte looked at him numbly. “I didn’t sleep with other men!” she protested. “I only slept with you, once, years ago!”

Alex hardly listened. He strode out of the room without looking back. Two minutes later there was a gentle knock and Marie entered, her eyes wide with shock. In an instant she took in the picture of her sweet mistress, still clutching the remnants of her beautiful gown, sobbing uncontrollably. At least he didn’t seem to have injured her, Marie thought practically. Well, well. Her mistress must not have had the virginity he wanted—or maybe she just didn’t have a maidenhead. Men were blockheads about such things.

She averted her eyes and began swiftly packing their bags, guessing that Charlotte needed some time to collect herself. A few minutes later, Charlotte was still motionless in the center of the floor. The door flew open and Alex stood there, flanked by his man, Keating. Marie shot a quick look at Charlotte. She didn’t seem to have noticed the men standing in the doorway. Marie darted over and stood protectively in front of her mistress. Keating’s eyes just as swiftly slanted off to the corner. He’s a good man, Marie thought with approval.

“Get my clothing out,” Alex rasped at Keating. He jerked his head at his wife. “She can go in the third carriage.”