There was a part of Dionisia's heart that was not inclined towards selfishness. It was the part of her heart that felt for Ari even when he'd admitted to preferring the company of gentlemen to women, the part of her heart that would have been happy for him if he'd just have admitted to taking a lover. That part of her told her not to deprive Ari of being at Elliott's bedside, told her to set aside her pain and anger for the sake of their son.

But staring across the room at the two of them, her mind replaying the momentary passion she'd witnessed before they realized she was there, it was easy enough to wrap that part of her heart in steel—easy enough that she might regret it later.

"No," she insisted, with as much firmness as her shaky voice would allow. "I'm going to take care of my son. I can do it all on my own. " She pinned her gaze on Ari, not caring how desperate his movements were, nor how devastated his expression was. Not in that moment. Maybe never again. She was a woman rarely moved to such levels of anger, but she had no idea what to do with it once it welled up inside her.

"Don't come home tonight. He's got a fever and he's vomiting. I'll send an owl if it's more serious than I suspect." It was all she could say without making threats she was too scared to follow up on. She had more important things to worry about than a crumbling marriage. She had Elliott.

With nothing more to say, she turned and headed back the way she came.

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