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“Afraid that I wouldn’t marry you if I knew the truth?”
She nodded, even as she struggled not to burst into tears. “Would it have made a difference to you?”
“No.” He sucked in a breath, making a visible effort to calm himself. “I don’t know, but if you’d told me, I could have planned for it. As it is . . .”
“I’m sorry,” she miserably whispered.
“Consummating our marriage . . . was that because of this?”
She flinched, even though she’d been expecting the question. “In part, but I still wanted to be with you. Still want to be with you.”
He closed his eyes, looking so weary and frustrated it broke her heart. “Ainsley, when are you ever going to learn to trust me?”
She had to fight back tears. “I do trust you. I love you.”
“You’ve got an odd way of showing it,” he said in a bitter echo of his words from the other night.
When he headed for the door with a noticeable limp, her heart clenched even harder. Had he hurt himself when he shoved Cringlewood against the bookcase?
“Where are you going?”
“I have to speak to Logan, and then I’ll consult with the family’s lawyer about how to handle this before it spins completely out of control.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“No, I want you to stay right here,” he said, throwing her a frustrated glance. “And for once, try to stay the hell out of trouble.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“He’ll never forgive me,” Ainsley said. “Not this time.”
She plunked her reticule down on the park bench. The dratted thing was heavy, since it concealed a small pistol she’d acquired before leaving England. Royal would have a heart spasm if he ever discovered she sometimes carried a weapon, but experience had taught her to be prepared for the worst.
“Och, don’t be daft,” Angus scoffed. “Ye just caught him by surprise, and in front of theSassenachprick, too. Royal was a wee bit embarrassed, that’s all.”
She stared gloomily at the children playing on the other side of the garden square. “He barely spoke two words at dinner last night, and then he and Logan went off together for hours. I’m not sure when he even went to bed.”
Actually, she was quite sure, although she would choke before admitting that she’d waited up for him. If he would have given her the chance, Ainsley could have adequately explained the reasons for her secretive behavior and how much she regretted it. Unfortunately, her hopes in that regard had gone unanswered, as Royal’s firm tread had passed by her bedroom door last night without hesitation.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to work up the nerve to go after him. He’d obviously reached his own conclusions and needed no explanations from her.
“The lads are workin’ on a plan to deal with the legalities,” Angus said. “It’s tricky, ye ken. But they’ll figure it out, especially once Nick arrives in town. He’ll deal with Lord Fathead, never ye fear.”
“Angus, Lord Fat—er, Lord Cringlewood is anything but stupid. Ruthless, conniving, and without principle, but certainly far from stupid.”
“He’s a jolter-head if he thinks he can take on the Kendricks and come away with his skin intact. Everythin’ will be as right as a trivet in no time. I promise.”
“I very much doubt that.”
“Here, stop bein’ such a gloomy guts and take hold of Tira. I can tell she’s wantin’ her mamma.”
Ainsley arched her eyebrows at that bit of nonsense. Tira was thoroughly swaddled in a soft cashmere shawl, happily snoring away in her grandfather’s arms. Still, the gesture was a measure of the old fellow’s concern for her, and Ainsley was touched.
She gently pulled the shawl back from her daughter’s face. Tira’s cheeks were sweetly flushed with sleep. Her mouth was a rosebud oval, emitting snores so adorable that Ainsley could hardly breathe. The possibility that she might lose her again wrapped a horrid vise around her chest.
“I don’t want to wake her,” she whispered.
Angus rolled his eyes and plopped Tira onto her lap. “Ye could run the Kiplingcotes Derby through this bloody square with no fear. Tira’s a grand sleeper, now that she’s gotten used to ye.”
