Page 25 of Brigand

“Edward is my cousin. He’s a duke. And a very powerful man.He will very likely have you hanged. That’s what they do to men who kidnapgirls, you know.”

“I didn’t kidnap you.”

“I doubt it will make any difference.”

He glared at the fire and tossed back his drink. “Probablynot,” he grumbled.

They sat in pleasant silence for a minute or two. Well, itwas pleasant for her. She was enjoying his discomfort. Perhaps it was thewhisky that made her bold, or the fact that she’d been so miserable when theevening ended and was not so miserable now, but when the question that had beenplaguing her rose in her mind, she asked it.

“Ewan, why do you hate me so?” She was glad her tone wasmerely quizzical and not melodramatic, as it probably would have been had shenot downed half her drink.

He blanched again. “I don’t hate you.” He got up and pouredanother dram. And then brought the decanter back to the little table betweenthem.

“You do. You hate me.” She studied him from beneath herlashes. “I wish I knew why. When I was a girl I…I thought you liked me.”

He rubbed his palm over his face. “I did like you.”

“Then what changed?”

He didn’t answer so she asked the other question burning inher breast. “Why did you leave Browning?”

His head snapped up. The feral look in his eyes gave her astart. “I didn’t leave.”

“You did. One day you were there…and then you were gone.”

“I didn’t leave. I was banished.”

Her heart thudded. “What?”

“My mother was turned out. Let go. Without references.”

All the blood drained from her face. For someone of theservant class, that was akin to utter disaster. They would have been destitutewith no home, no money, nothing. “Why?”

“You know why.”

“I do not.”

He studied her in silence. When he spoke, his voice was alow thrum. “Why did you tell your father about that kiss?”

She wrinkled her brow. Tell her father? That Ewan St.Andrews, the lowly groom, the upstairs maid’s son, had kissed her? He wouldhave flayed him on the spot. “I didn’t.”

“Really?” He said it as a question but he wasn’t asking. Hestood and paced, raking his hair as he’d always done when he was upset. It madehim seem young again. A boy again. Hers again.

“I told no one.”

“Not even a little confession to your Abigail? Not awhispered brag to a friend about the silly, stupid groom who doted on you?”

“You were neither silly nor stupid. You saved my life, Ewan.You were my hero. I would never have betrayed you like that.”

He whirled on her. “Then how did he know? How did he knoweverything? Why did he drag me into his study and strip off my shirt and caneme bloody?”

Pain swelled in her chest. Tears pricked her lids. She achedfor that boy. “Oh, Ewan…”

“He called my mother into the room and made her watch as hebeat me. As he called me, and her, all manner of foul names. And then when hewas done, he delivered the coup de grâce. He dismissed her.” Ewanstormed to her side and boxed her into the chair with one brawny arm on eitherside of her. “She was with child, Violet.”

“Oh no.”

“Yes. Horace Wyeth sent us out, literally, into the cold.With nothing.”