Page 20 of Cruel Shame

When neither of them looked me in the eye, I turned my gaze to Kendrick, who never had a problem with being awkward. Annoyance flickered across his features, but it was more directed at his brother and BFF.

“Our parents called.” Kendrick’s sharp eyes slid to Maxwell, who continued avoiding my gaze.

I inhaled a sharp breath through my teeth as an imaginary knitting needle stabbed at a spot behind my left ear. All this time, I told myself that prescription medicine didn’t work. Without it, something inside me felt like it was about to explode. It was probably time for another dose.

“They have recalled me back to the family estate and Max offered to take my place,” Kendrick said in a single breath.

Maxwell finally met my eyes with one of those bracing-himself-for-an-explosion expressions of clenched teeth, and the corners of his mouth pulled back toward a corded neck.

“You’re going away?” My words came out a choked sob.

“Sorry.” He cupped my face with his large hands. “They want Ken to enter into marriage talks with Elizabeth. I don’t trust them or the Liddells not to do something underhanded and trap my brother into an engagement.”

My mouth fell open, and my gaze darted to Kendrick, whose cheeks turned pink. Wasn’t he the dude who told me he no longer wanted to associate with Elizabeth? Another knitting needle of pain lanced through the back of my head, making me wince. It also brought the realization that the dude of which I spoke had been Maxwell, pretending to be Kendrick.

Annoyance tightened my skin at the reminder, and my lips pursed at the thought that the twins were frequent identity swappers.

Maxwell grabbed my arms. “Think of it as an undercover mission. Ken’s too honest to do anything underhanded and too polite to ask rude and demanding questions.”

I glanced at Kendrick, whose lips tightened, and then back to his more dishonest twin. “You’re going home to find out what’s happening with the Liddells?”

He nodded. “Lady Liddell agreed to bring Elizabeth up to explain herself. If I accompany you to London, I’ll miss what might be our best opportunity to destroy those bastards.”

“Alright.” I rocked forward and wrapped my arms around his neck. Maxwell pressed me into his body, and my heart ached with the intensity of my concussion at his impending absence.

He held me for several heartbeats, seeming like he was memorizing the way I felt against him. The poor bastard would have to spend the next day or so in the company of Elizabeth and her rancid mother.

“They won’t get away with trying to kill you,” Maxwell murmured into my ear. “I swear it.”

I drew back and turned to Orlando. “Are you going with him or something?”

“Grandfather is coming down to make the archbishop to explain how he could let his wife and daughter talk such filth to the press.”

My brows rise. “He thinks they’re lying?”

Orlando rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. “The miserable old git is more outraged by the public display of dirty secrets. I need to stay in Glasgow to see if I can steer the conversation toward a confession.”

Some of the tension around my chest loosened, and I nodded. It wasn’t like they were backing out or abandoning me. Even if they offered to accompany me to London, I would refuse. There was absolutely no way I could access the level of information they could get via their families.

“Alright, then.” I inhaled a deep breath, trying to push the pain away. “I’ll fly down on my own.”

Orlando shook his head. “We thought you might want to go back to London, so we looked up if you could fly with a concussion.”

“The answer was no?” I asked.

“It’ll make your pain a lot worse,” he replied.

Maxwell wrapped an arm around my waist and steered me through the police station. “One of the guys in the football team had a concussion, refused medical advice and ended up having a seizure.”

Orlando strode ahead and opened the door, letting in a blast of cold air.

I stepped out into the evening and glared into Maxwell’s silver eyes. “If you’re suggesting I stay in Templar—”

“Not at all,” he said.

Orlando walked to my side and slid an arm around my shoulder, engulfing my left side in his warmth. I relaxed in the cocoon of their larger bodies and sighed.

Tall, concrete lamps bathed the limo in amber light, and an arch of spectral light hovered over the road. For a brief moment, I thought Father Neapolitan had brought down holy terror in revenge for my having been born. When it floated about with my eye movements, I exhaled a breath. It was just a funky migraine.