Page 22 of To Follow her Heart

Luke turned to excuse himself to the ladies just in time to see Lord St Clair direct a dark and accusing look at his mother. It was quickly gone, replaced by an affable smile.

“I thought perhaps we might go for a ride,” St Clair said, striding away from him at quite a clip. “I find it clears the mind, and I think there are things we must discuss.”

Luke’s heart sank. He could only imagine what kind of unfeeling bounder the earl believed him to be. Yet he was glad the man had taken Kitty’s side. Heaven knew someone had to. It had broken his heart to see her standing all alone, so brave and defiant, but then that was his Kitten.

They didn’t speak again until the earl had selected a mount for him, and they clattered out of the cobbled yard and into the grounds of the magnificent estate. They rode hard for ten minutes or more, until the earl drew his horse to a halt on top of a rise that looked down upon the grand house.

“It’s stunning,” Luke said, with honest admiration.

St Clair nodded. “It is,” he agreed, frowning a little. “Not that it’s any of my doing. Generations of St Clair’s before me must take the credit. I shall just hope not to ruin any of it. That will be my epitaph if all goes well,” he said, the words bitter. “He didn’t do much harm.”

Luke opened and closed his mouth, a little taken aback.

The earl turned to him and laughed. “Forgive me,” he said, the black mood falling away in an instant and the legendary charm the man was known for immediately becoming apparent. “I’m in a devilish mood this morning.”

“I can hardly blame you after last night,” Luke said, struggling to meet the man’s eyes. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am that you have been dragged into this… this—”

“There’s no need for that,” he said, his expression a little harder now. “What’s done is done, but I will have the truth from you, sir. Mr Derby is not here now to curb your tongue and I hope that I’m not mistaken in believing you an honourable man? Miss Connolly seems to think so.”

Luke felt an unwelcome surge of colour stain his cheeks, but he nodded. “It’s the least I owe you,” he said stiffly. It was mortifying to know that the earl thought him weak and spineless and in awe of Mr Derby, but what else should the man believe?

“Good,” said the earl. “Then tell me this: are you in love with her still?”

The question caught him off guard. Even after his demand for the truth, Luke had not imagined the man would strike directly at the tender core of the problem. Men, especially those of St Clair’s rank, avoided any discussion of subjects where feelings and emotions were required, and spoke instead of practicalities, of reasons and motivation.

It was perhaps this unexpected frankness that explained his unvarnished answer.

“Yes,” Luke said simply. “With all my heart.”

The earl’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, it grew harder.

“And yet you stood by and said nothing, did nothing, while she fought for you?”

The starkness of the accusation stole Luke’s breath, as did the fury in the man’s eyes. All at once, Luke was furious too, even as he drowned under the weight of guilt, under the knowledge that the earl had said nothing that wasn’t true. Yet, how dare this man who knew naught of him, of his circumstances, stand back and judge him?

For perhaps the first time in his life, Luke appreciated the earl’s training, the time spent learning how to act like a nobleman, like those gilded souls who—just as the man before him—had been born to power rather than having to pretend that it came naturally.

“You don’t know a damn thing about it,” Luke replied, startling himself with the cold anger of his reply.

“Then explain it,” St Clair countered, equally cool, unperturbed at such an answer.

Luke stared at him, for a moment wanting nothing more than to drag the man from his horse and break his perfect bloody nose. Damn him and his smug superiority. It didn’t last. Luke’s anger never did. Instead, he laughed, though it was a harsh sound.

“Kitty knew last night,” he said wearily. “She can read me like a book. She always could. I’ve never been able to keep a secret from her. Never wanted to,” he added with a hopeless smile.

“Blackmail,” St Clair said, his expression grim.

Luke nodded, relieved not to have to put it into words himself. “I can’t have her. No matter how much I want to. Trevick will ruin her and her family, and Lymington… he’ll ruin me.”

To his surprise St Clair swore, low and harsh, a vicious rant of angry words. His horse sidled and fretted, uneasy at his master’s displeasure. The earl quieted the beast with ease before turning back to him. Luke felt sure he’d come to some decision.

“Come along, then,” he said tersely. “You’d best follow me.”

Luke did as he was asked, though he did not understand where they were going. He didn’t have to wait long to find out.

The Countess St Clair, Miss Hunt, and another young woman he did not recognise were waiting a few minutes farther on, beside a small thicket of trees.

Not that Luke saw them; the only thing he could see was Kitty.