Oliver looked forward and poked the emerald pin in Ronan’s cravat. Then he simply said, “I was sleepy.”
That was a lie but Ronan was realizing the boy wasn’t paying much attention. He was still young. What did a child know? He sighed, dropping his head for a moment to collect himself. Although his heartbeat had finally calmed down, he still felt rather winded.
“Oh, I was wondering where you two were.” Isabel strode forward with Anne behind her. “We both were. Ollie, dearest, are you all right? Scratched up?”
Swinging both hands in the air so quickly he nearly clipped Ronan’s nose, the boy shouted, “No!”
It was impossible not to adore him. Ronan nudged Oliver along, who quickly went to tell Anne all about his escapades in the garden in his childish chatter. Anne had enjoyed a well-deserved break while the other nursemaids helped, but now Ronan never wanted her to take his eyes off the boy. They might need to have words about this.
“Would you like to apologize to Isla now or later?” Isabel waved to Oliver as the two disappeared down the hall and then turned to Ronan.
He frowned. “You don’t have to meddle in my business.”
Beaming, she asked, “Where is the fun in doing otherwise? Go on, then. She’s in the white powder room three doors down around the hall.”
He harrumphed but went all the same.
It wasn’t going to be fun. But it was necessary. He’d acted the cad and needed to make amends. Had he really shouted at her? After knocking, Ronan braced him for trouble as he entered the small room.
There sat Isla all on her own. She wore a new dress that fit fairly well, except it was clearly too long; one is Isabel’s to be certain. There were no gloves on her hands as she was fixing a small bandage in its place. Her one neatly styled hair was pooled around her shoulders, creating a breathtaking frame.
He stood there for a minute unable to think.
“Well?” Isla said at last.
Perhaps he had found someone too outspoken. But then Ronan amended this. He was here because she was outspoken, because she was not afraid to use her tongue.
If she wasn’t, then he wouldn’t be either.
“I beg your forgiveness for my prior behavior,” Ronan said neatly. He paused. “I should have shown more concern and gratitude, and I most wholeheartedly apologize.”
“Do you?” She turned, craning her neck up at him.
Glancing back at the door he had left partially open for the sake of propriety, Ronan hesitated. Then he stepped forward to join her on the small sofa. There wasn’t much room. He noted her raised eyebrows and wondered if touching knees was too much for her.
If it is, she had best say something.
Except she didn’t, so he did.
“I do. I wasn’t thinking clearly, but you should know that I care about your wellness and will purchase you a new dress and gloves and anything else that would ease your concerns,” he told her.
She shook her head. “I don’t need to be bought off into submission.”
“Does it hurt to have nice things?”
Her lips twitched before she answered, “Not particularly.”
“Then please make your purchases and have the bills sent directly to me,” he decided with a confirmed nod. Then he let out a breath to force the conversation he had been putting off for so long. “You had Oliver in your arms out there. And I was… overwhelmed.”
“We all were,” she reassured him before pausing. “Oliver? You mean, your son?”
Ronan started to nod. But memories of the past came to mind and he winced. He glanced back at the crack in the door. Then he turned to Isla’s thoughtful face. “No.”
“No?”
“He isn’t my son,” Ronan admitted. “He is my nephew. My sister… She passed shortly after giving birth. Her final wish was for me to love him as my own. And as I have not been able to find any church book confirming her marriage to another, I feel it is only right to truly raise him as my own.”
She exhaled. Her hand started to reach out to him, slowly but surely, before balking. Disappointed settled on his shoulders as he eyed the way she settled her hand back in her lap.
