“The day in question happened to be mine and Elizabeth’s fifth wedding anniversary,” he said. “And she was arriving at Hyde Park for a picnic soon after you and I first met. It was all planned. A special picnic to celebrate her. Us. The love we had found together.”
“Then how could you—”
“What?” He frowned at Prudence, remembering well how horribly stern she had looked that day. Vividly recalled what it had felt like to feel that way. He heard the stories about her husband. Knew what kind of man he was. What he could not have foreseen was the viper he had turned his little wife into. “How could I have shown you kindness? Smiled at you? Taken your hand?”
“You asked to call on me,” she exclaimed.
“I asked if mywifeand I might call on you and Lord Barrington,” he corrected. “Nothing more.”
Her finely arched eyebrows snapped together. “Why would you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Wish to call on my late husband and me?”
“Because that was what was done.” Her confusion saddened him, but he understood. She really had no idea. “Because I thought you would get on well with Elizabeth.” He shook his head. “It was nothing more, Lady Barrington. I loved my wife dearly. Ask anyone.”
“I did.” She blinked at him. “I asked…”
“Who?” He persisted when she trailed off.
“People I trusted,” she assured. “People who would know the truth of things.”
Meaning those who simpered at her heels and gossiped in her wake. Those who had most certainly enjoyed spreading something as scandalous as Rothesay the Scoundrel around town out of nothing more than boredom.
“Perhaps you want to give more thought to what actually happened that day, my lady,” he said after a time, his temper in check because Elizabeth had made him see this years ago. Helped him understand that Prudence was as cold-hearted as he once was because she had forgotten how to be anything else.
He finally looked her way. Hoped she saw the truth of things in his eyes. Prayed it did not push her further away, no matter how difficult it was to hear. Hoped it did not embarrass her even though he knew it would. That it probably should.
“I recommend you reflect more on how you perceive things in general,” he said, “because what you thought you saw, perhaps even felt, did not happen.” He shook his head again. “Not at all.” He bit back emotion. “Elizabeth saved me, and I loved her. Loved her more than you can possibly imagine.”
While tempted to leave her there alone with her eyes still narrowed, Elizabeth would look poorly on it, so he stood and gestured at the door. “Shall we continue our tour?”
He prayed she said no. Hoped she wanted to return to the great hall and rejoin Maude wherever she might be. Instead, Prudence continued considering him before she finally stood and nodded once. “I would like that.”
Like that? Truly?Why?Her reasoning, or so it seemed, shocked him when they stepped out the door.
“Perhaps not that way quite yet, Your Grace.” Her voice was surprisingly gentle when he looked down the hall in the direction they had carried Elizabeth’s piano. “There is more to see here at MacLauchlin Castle back the way we came, is there not?”
There was, and however stern Prudence resumed being when she slid her arm into his, he appreciated the flicker of compassion in her voice. The hint of a heart beneath all the coldness. Did that mean she believed what he had said? Impossible to know because she returned to being properly prudish when he led her through various rooms and explained the castle’s history as Elizabeth once had to him.
In fact, Prudence was the only other lass with whom he had walked through this castle. While there were moments where he again felt Blake had gone too far, bringing him here to confront and perhaps find temporary companionship with her, there were other moments of ease. Comfort if for no other reason than she proved more interesting than anticipated. Or should he say she had far more questions than he foresaw, given the heavy conversation they had left behind? Or perhaps because of it? A means to put distance between herself and the uncomfortable truth of things?
Her questions had nothing to do with his misinterpreted flirting years ago but, thankfully, about the castle and its history. Clan MacLauchlin over the generations. How had they remained in one castle for so long when things were so difficult? How did they hold their ground against her English? And shedidphrase it that way whether she realized it or not.
“I suppose you could say we Scots were resilient.” He led her into a room with more weapons mounted on the walls than pictures. “We tended to want to keep what was ours, to begin with.”
“I see,” she murmured, gazing at the various blades. Again, she showed a more inquisitive mind than he expected. “And all of these are ancestral weapons?” She looked from a sheathed sword to him. “All blades I assume the MacLauchlins fought us English with?”
“Perhaps or perhaps not.” He eyed the blade she had been drawn to. One mounted at eye level. “Sometimes it had nothing to do with one’s obvious enemy but another sort of enemy altogether.”
“Do tell.”
“Well, in the case of this blade, it was a MacLauchlin who realized a foe was not really a foe at all.” He removed it from the wall, unsheathed it, and admired the long, lethal metal. “In the end, the laird understood his battle was only ever with himself and not the enemy he treated so harshly.” He shook his head ruefully. “So he hung this blade where he could see it best, so he never forgot his folly.”
Quick to figure out he was teasing, more so running a parallel to her own assumptions years ago, Prudence made to speak, then snapped her mouth shut before she straightened and managed a proper scowl. “You jest?”
“I do.” He could not help but smile. “In truth, this sword was a gift from an allied clan long ago. No doubt a means to settle a dispute.”
