Page 18 of Once Ruined, Twice Shy

The thought caught him by surprise. He desired her, yes, admired and liked her, and marriage would be the perfect solution for her. But would he be doing it partly to put Frederick’s nose out of joint? And would she only accept him from desperation? To cap it all, she had spent three weeks lying to him on an almost daily basis. Was that any foundation for a marriage?

He backed out of the kitchen and started examining the sitting room. “Where do you think he might have gone?”

“Well, it’s rather early for Frederick to be out with his gambling associates. He may be visiting his broker, or simply taking the air in Sydney Gardens. Oh!” Her hand went to her mouth. “We’ve left Sheba behind at Spyle Court! Oh, heavens, what will that cost us?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll see Sheba is returned to Bath, and cover the costs myself.”

She came towards him. “You’re far too generous, Conall. I truly hate myself for what I tried to do to you. And I hate Frederick too.”

His heart kicked up a lively beat. “So… you’ve decided not to marry him?”

She lowered her eyes. “I now think being wed to him would be worse than ruin. I don’t know what I’ll do instead, but I don’t think I could bear it, knowing how he used me, how he didn’t scruple to steal Josephine away from you just when she had recovered from his supposed loss. He is despicable.”

He put his hands on her shoulders. “You should go home,” he said gently. Or marry me. No, it was far too soon to make an offer—there was still too much at stake. Marry in haste, repent at leisure.

She shook her head vigorously. “Please, don’t speak of that. I should die of shame.”

“At least consider it. Or you could seek another protector.”

Her head snapped up. “And be a mistress again, with no chance of a family of my own? Never.”

The vehemence of her response silenced him for a moment. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t interfere. Now, do you mind if I hunt around a bit? I’d like to find out as much about Mr Ebbworth as I can while I’m here. Just in case he won’t negotiate terms, and I need to use more leverage than the vowels in that box over there.”

“By all means. Shall I light the range and make us tea? What we have is not the best quality, but at least turns the hot water brown.”

His conscience pricked at him once more. It was partly his fault they couldn’t afford decent tea. “Shall I fetch some water for you?”

“No, there’s enough here. The maid brings a couple of jugs up every morning, along with milk and bread.”

Leaving Hestia to her own devices, Conall began searching the rooms but found nothing of interest. He then entered the bedchamber. The idea of Frederick making love to Hestia in here sickened him. He should have found her first. It should have been him who introduced her to the pleasures of the flesh.

A large locket, not unlike his own, stood on the dressing table. He opened the cover, and discovered with a jolt it was an image of Josephine, but painted by a different artist, done when she was somewhat younger. He ran a finger over the pale, angelic face. “Alas, my dear,” he murmured. “It seems I have changed allegiance.” He turned the locket over and found an inscription on the back. To my beloved A.C. Yours ever and always, J.D.

A.C.? He knew it! His enemy was an impostor. He was really ‘Andrew C’. ‘Frederick Ebbworth’ must be an invented name. Conall hurried through to the kitchen to show Hestia.

“I’ve never seen that locket before—Frederick must have hidden it well. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to think of him as ‘Andrew’.

Conall tensed, like a hound on the scent. “I’m certain this is important. If we can learn his true name, we may find something further we can use against him, should he fail to give up his vendetta against me.”

She frowned. “But what more can he do to you? He plotted to stop you bankrupting him by using me. That plan failed.”

Curse it, she was right. He was the one who held all the power now—Frederick had no weapons left, since Hestia had deserted. Was it time to bury the hatchet after all?

“Forgive me, sweeting. You’re right, of course. But for your sake, I think it would be best to maintain some hold over him, lest he attempt to blackmail you in the future.”

He was suddenly struck by how beautiful she looked, standing there with her teeth worrying at her lower lip, her great dark eyes filled with uncertainty. He couldn’t help himself. In an instant, he’d closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms. Her head nestled beneath his chin.

“I’ll protect you, whatever happens.” He shouldn’t have mentioned blackmail—he’d frightened her. But if she were to return to her parents of her own accord and lay all before them, she might be forgiven. Then Ebbworth would have a good deal less with which to blackmail her.

“Your parents should have protected you. They were greatly at fault, and I’m sure have had time to realise the fact.”

“They did protect me—too much, unfortunately. It quite drove me away from them. I was like a caged songbird. I despise keeping birds in cages, don’t you?”

He ran his hand up and down her back. It felt so good to have her in his arms. The vibration of her voice, the feel of her cheek against his chest, was starting to scramble his thoughts.

“I wondered. Would you… Might you consider allowing me to pay court to you? With your parents’ permission, this time, as I wouldn’t want to make enemies of them.”

He felt her shocked intake of breath. Deuce take it—he’d spoken too soon. “Please, don’t refuse me outright.” He couldn’t bear that. “Just give my offer consideration. And please understand, I’m not doing it out of pity. I genuinely think we’d make a good match. Mama likes you. You know your way around Spyle—”