She flew into a passion, flinging away from him, her good resolutions forgotten.
"You have no right to disgrace me! If you do it, I will never forgive you! I won't stay with you—I—"
He broke in—this was what he had expected; he must not whine; this was retribution.
"I know. I have faced that."
She was breathless for a moment. He knew! He had faced it! He had taken her seriously—he always expected her to leave him! Oh, he must indeed be tired of her, and wanted her to go! What was he saying?
"I know that you love Lovelace. I—I have known it for some time."
Lavinia sank into the nearest chair. To what depths had her folly led her?
"I shall put no obstacle in the way of your flight, of course...."
This was dreadful! Lady Lavinia buried her face in her hands and burst into tears. It was true then—he did not love her—he loved Mrs. Fanshawe—she was to elope. She sobbed pitifully as the full horror of the situation struck her.
The temptation to gather her into his arms almost overmastered Richard, but he managed to choke it down. If he allowed himself to kiss her, she would try to break his resolution—mayhap, she would succeed. So he looked away from her, tortured by the sound of her crying.