“That’s why my father died, wasn’t it?” he asked quietly. “He found out about the attack and went to kill the tenant who hurt you.”
“He wasn’t your father,” Moira corrected. “But yes. Aidan was filled with rage, and he shot the man who hurt me. And then that bastard didn’t die fast enough. He killed my husband and now both of them are dead.”
A single tear rolled down her face. “I should have rid myself of you when I learned I was with child. But it would have been a mortal sin.” She stared at him, and in her eyes, he saw nothing but hatred. “I’ve suffered every day you lived. And I will not stand by and let you ruin another woman’s life.”
He expected Rose to speak, to say something to defend them. But her silence was damning. Though she continued to hold his hand, he could feel her grip loosening.
She didn’t want him any more than his mother had. He should have expected it. And although he ought to let her go, now that she knew he was a bastard, damned if he wanted to. His only thread of honor had snapped in front of a truth he didn’t want to face.
Iain stared at the women with no regrets for what he was about to do. He tightened his hand upon hers. “Most of the men and women in that ballroom will believe that I have compromised Lady Rose,” he said coolly. “I intend to marry her, no matter what anyone says about me.”
“I cannot allow that,” Lady Wolcroft interrupted. “My granddaughter believed that you were an earl, a man who could provide a future for her. I believed that, too.” To Moira, she admitted, “I am sorry for my interference. You never told any of us about . . . why you hid him from the world. I thought you were merely estranged.”
“I kept Iain away so that this would never happen,” his mother admitted. “I could not bring shame upon my husband.”
It was as if he weren’t in the room at all. Iain refused to remain silent while they discussed his future. Ignoring all of them, he turned back to Rose. “Before all this happened, I asked you to marry me. Have your feelings changed, now that you know the truth?”
The frozen expression on her face revealed her own doubts. “I feel as if I’ve stepped into the midst of a storm. I need a moment, Iain.” With that, she let go of his hand.
The women closed in on her, and Lady Wolcroft sent him a dark look. “I think it’s best if you leave now, Ashton.” She opened the door and waited.
Iain didn’t move. Instead, he locked his gaze upon Rose. “This is about what you want, a ghrá. They don’t matter.”
She still wouldn’t look at him. But her hands were trembling as she gripped them together. “I—I need time to think.”
It was as if he’d been imprisoned within panes of glass. He’d wanted to believe that she would be different. That she would love him enough to overlook the broken shards of the life he had.
He didn’t want to leave her here with these vultures who would tell her how to live her life and what to do now. But when he saw her pale expression, his worst fears were confirmed.
Love wasn’t enough to overcome the revelation that he was worth nothing. She’d wanted an earl, not a bastard. And no matter how much it broke him, the right thing was to let her go.
Rose had barely slept since the evening of the party. While her grandmother had been upset about the scandal, her own emotions felt numb and closed off from the world. For a moment, she had let herself believe that Iain loved her, that they would find a way to be together.
He wasn’t the Earl of Ashton, according to his mother. And from the look on his face, he hadn’t appeared surprised at Moira’s revelation. Had Iain known he was not the earl all along? Had he come to England, trying to trick an heiress into marrying him so he could seize an innocent woman’s fortune? After all the weeks they’d spent together, she couldn’t imagine him doing such a thing. It wasn’t the sort of man he was. His devotion to Ashton was real, whether or not the earldom belonged to him.
She had suspected the possibility of him being illegitimate when he’d spoken of his mother’s hatred. And yet, she had set aside her doubts, trusting him when he’d said he was the earl.
She didn’t know what to believe. She needed to confront him and find out the truth. But the thought of losing Iain was breaking her heart into pieces.
Today, she’d chosen a demure gown the color of a thunderstorm. The dove gray suited her somber mood. She took the stairs slowly, gripping the banister. When she neared the first landing, she saw her mother bidding farewell to Cain Sinclair, along with his wife, Margaret, and their youngest daughter, Evangeline. No one had told her that the Sinclairs had come to call.
“Evangeline, can you stay and talk with me awhile?” she called out to her best friend. Right now, she needed someone to give her advice. Her friend’s honesty might help her put everything into perspective.
“Of course.” After bidding her parents farewell, Evangeline asked, “Would you like me to go up to your room, or shall we sit in the drawing room?”
“I’m almost downstairs, so let’s go into the drawing room.” She held on to the railing as she eased each foot down the stairs, feeling the ache in her legs. Though each day was easier, her muscles burned with the exertion.
Her mother was beaming as she opened the drawing room door for them. “He’s coming home tomorrow, darling.”
“Who is coming home?” She glanced at Evangeline, who shrugged.
“George, of course.”
Rose’s smile grew strained, and she exchanged a look with her friend. “Give us a moment, won’t you?” Evangeline acquiesced and stepped into the hall.
Her mother’s face was radiant, and she sighed happily. “I knew it would work. I gave him all our money, and now he’s coming home.”
“Mother, it can’t be. Father has been . . . gone for years.” Her throat constricted with fear, and she added, “How much of our money did you give away?”
Lady Penford’s expression grew distant, and she strode to the door. “He told me we would have profits enough for strong dowries for all of you. You can marry your earl, Rose. I do like him.”
“Mother, listen to me.” She caught Lady Penford by the shoulders, trying to make sense of it. “Are you saying that we do have money?”
“He’s coming home soon. His ship may arrive any day now.” Her mother’s face was filled with joy. “I’ve missed him so much.”
A strange thought occurred to her, and she probed further. “Did you mean James is coming home?”
“Yes. And George, of course. Both of them will be home in time to see you married.” She raised an eyebrow, and her mood shifted to disapproval. “I did hear about what happened at Lady Arnsbury’s party the other night. I do hope Lord Ashton is getting a special license, as we speak.”
Her mother’s conversation kept shifting from one topic to another, and Rose could hardly tell what was real—especially regarding news of her brother.
“I don’t know if I’m going to marry Lord Ashton, Mother. I have no dowry.” She ought to regret what she’d done, but the truth was, she didn’t. No matter how scandal shadowed her now or how little money there was, her heart still belonged to Iain.
“Yes, you have a dowry. And everything will be fine. I’ve seen to that.” Lady Penford’s smile brightened again. “My little birds will fly their nests, and all will be well.” She squeezed Rose’s hand and said, “Now, I am feeling tired. I want to rest.”
The moment her mother was gone, Rose sank into a chair. Evangeline stepped inside the room and asked, “Did you still want me to stay?”
“Please.” She rubbed at her temples and said, “My mother is having a difficult day.”
Evangeline nodded. “Yes. Your grandmother asked my family to help her, and that’s why we were here. She gave permission for my father to assist your land steward. He’ll find out what has happened with your finances, and I know he’s made some investments already to help. You needn’t worry.”
Deep inside, a flutter of hope emerged. “Truly?” The thought of a successful b
usinessman like Mr. Sinclair and his wife intervening and helping her family was a welcome one.
“Yes.” Evangeline closed the door and pulled up a chair. “But that’s not why you wanted to talk to me, was it?”
She shook her head. “It’s Lord Ashton.”
A slight flicker of disappointment crossed Evangeline’s face. “I thought that might be what you wanted to speak with me about. But the earl only has eyes for you.”
“I truly was hoping the two of you would end up together.” She felt sorry that her matchmaking had backfired in such a way.
Her friend settled against her chair. “I’m used to it, Rose. Men never have eyes for me—only my father’s wealth. Sometimes I wish I could meet a man who believed I had nothing.”
“Well, I am sorry. It wasn’t my intention to steal him away from you.”
“Nonsense. There was nothing between us, for he’s in love with you. And all London is talking of how he seduced you in the library.”
Rose was about to blurt out, He did not—but then realized that yes, he’d done exactly that. She buried her face in her hands. “What am I to do, Evangeline?”
“Marry him, of course. The talk will die down. It did for my parents when they wed.” She got up from her chair and crossed the room. There was still a leftover tray of sandwiches and tarts from the tea earlier with the Sinclairs. Evangeline picked it up and brought it over to share.
“Unless . . . you don’t want to marry him?”
Rose let out a heavy sigh. “I do want to marry him, though. In spite of what everyone thinks.” She poured out the entire story to her best friend, knowing she could trust Evangeline not to say anything. “Am I a fool to still want him?”
Her friend thought a moment. “Even if he was not the earl’s son, he was born within the time the countess was married. She never claimed he was illegitimate, did she?”
“No. At least, not yet.”
“Then, legally he is the earl, blood or not.” Evangeline took a sandwich and eyed her. “The only question is, do you love him? Do you want to marry him?”
Rose didn’t answer her friend at first. If love meant that being without Iain was a physical ache, then yes. In spite of everything, she did want him.
“Let me say it another way,” Evangeline offered. “If I told you I was going to marry him—”
“I would want to claw your eyes out.” Rose took a sandwich from the tray and ate it. “I suppose that answers my own question.”
Her friend smiled warmly. “Don’t worry, Rose. Go to Lord Ashton, and you’ll find a way to be with him. Whereas I shall remain a spinster, content to bury myself in poetry and books.” She smiled happily at the thought and took another bite of her sandwich.
“And what if James returns?” Rose teased.
Evangeline coughed and sputtered, whacking herself in the chest. “Lord Penford? Are you mad?”
“He might be returning. Unless, as my mother claims, it’s the ghost of my father, back from the dead.” It was a morbid comment, but sometimes it was easier to handle her mother’s eccentricity with humor.
“Forgive me, but your brother left me and went to another country for the better part of a year without so much as a by your leave. He is a horrid man, and I wouldn’t let him court me if the alternative was being eaten alive by eels.”
The vehemence in her friend’s voice was stronger than she’d imagined. “Well then. I’ll tell him not to call on you.”
Evangeline bit her lip and smiled. “I much prefer to plot and scheme on your behalf. I could go with you to Lord Ashton’s townhouse to distract his mother and sisters.”
She thought about it and said, “No, as nice as that sounds, I must speak with him myself.” Having her friend here had lifted her spirits.
But even more, she longed to see Iain. Only then could she separate the truth from lies. And when she saw his face, she hoped to discover whether there was any hope for a future together.
“I want you to leave London.”
Iain glanced up from the desk. It was well after midnight, and while he didn’t know what had inspired his mother’s fury at this hour, it didn’t surprise him. There was no sign of his sisters, and he supposed they had retired for the night.
Iain stood, his neck aching from the hours he’d spent poring over the investments and potential profits. “Of course you want me to leave. But I was here first, if you recall.”
“The house doesn’t belong to you. Nor do you have any right to behave like the earl. You aren’t the heir to Ashton. Michael was. You must depart from London so you don’t harm your sisters’ chances of finding good husbands. Go anywhere else, except Ashton. And if you dare to set foot upon my land, I will—”
“You’ll do what?” he interjected. “Have me shot for trespassing?” Anger flowed through him, roaring with the force of twenty-five years of being made to feel unworthy. He crossed the room and stood before her. “I am the only man capable of looking after Ashton. It’s my home, and the tenants trust me.”
“There are no tenants!” she cried out. “They’ve all left. We have nothing. Nothing, do you understand?”
She was wrong, for there were a few tenants who had stayed at Ashton. But he realized this was about her fear and loss of pride. Moira had taken his sisters to another ball tonight, and it was likely that they were ashamed of their poverty in the face of all the wealthy families. She wanted someone to blame for their misfortune, and Iain was the likely scapegoat.
He took a moment to gather command of his own temper. “I understand that you blame me for the famine and the rotting potatoes. You think that if Michael were alive and I were dead, everything would be different. But you’re wrong.” He knew that arguing with her was a mistake, one he might regret. His position was tenuous, and if she renounced him publicly, telling everyone he was not the earl, it would cause more trouble.
“You can curse me all you like,” he told her. “But the truth is, I would lay down my life to save Ashton. I’m the only man who would.”
Her posture remained ramrod straight, her hatred palpable. “Then go back, if that’s what you’re wanting. Try to save it, if you believe you can. But you’ll fail.” A sudden gleam came into her eyes, and she added, “You might as well be gone by morning, for there’s nothing left for you here. Lady Rose is not going to wed you. Her grandmother won’t allow it.”
She doesn’t want to wed a bastard like you.
Of course she wouldn’t. The broken look of shock in her eyes was still branded upon his mind. She’d been devastated to learn that he wasn’t a true earl—only a poor substitute for his brother. He’d wanted to talk to her again, but he didn’t know what to say.
A numb feeling settled in his stomach, but he faced his mother. “The decision is hers to make.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. If she married you, her family would cut her off without a cent. She would grow to despise you.” His mother shook her head. “No, they will find someone else for her. It will be a swift wedding, you can be sure. Especially after the gossip you caused.”
The idea of Rose marrying any other man was unthinkable. He’d sooner disrupt the wedding and steal the bride away.
“Now that she knows you’re a bastard, she doesn’t want you,” Moira continued. “Let her go. Let her wed a man who can bring her happiness, if you truly care about her.”
He did care, more than he’d realized. But he wasn’t about to run away from Rose. He’d sent her a note this morning, asking her if they could meet and talk about what had happened.
“I cannot leave London yet.” Not only because of Rose, but also because he and Cain Sinclair had begun working together. The businessman had asked him to help interview a few Irishwomen who were talented seamstresses. They spoke Irish Gaelic, and their English was limited.
And though Sinclair could have hired any number of men to translate, it gave Iain a means of repaying the Scot for the supplies and food he was donating to Ashton.
“You
don’t belong here,” Moira insisted. “You should go. Leave Ashton behind and make a new life for yourself somewhere else.”
That was what she wanted, he knew. But he refused to walk away. “I made a promise to Michael. And that promise, I’ll be keeping.” Over the past week, he’d begun gathering the supplies Sinclair had ordered. He planned to sail back to Ireland with livestock, grain, and other necessities.
“The estate isn’t truly yours. Not by birthright.”
“Why do you care?” he demanded. “If I restore it and give you, Sybil, and Colleen a place to live—why does it matter whether or not I was born from the earl? Do you really want a distant cousin to come and claim the title, someone who won’t listen to a word you say?”
“You don’t listen, either,” she pointed out. But it did seem that she was considering his argument.
Iain softened his tone and offered, “There is no reason why you could not continue living here in London. The three of you can stay as long as you want.” She seemed to think about it, and he added, “You need not return to Ashton until I have rebuilt it. There’s no cause to face bad memories.”
Moira’s face turned cold. “I suppose it’s fitting that the estate should fail. It’s been cursed ever since Aidan died.”
It was clear that she believed the superstition. And before she turned her face aside, he caught a glimpse of her tears. God help him, he hated seeing a woman cry, even one who despised him.
“I will take responsibility for Ashton,” Iain offered. “Just as I’ve done over the past year.” It was his home, the only one he’d ever known. And whether or not he was the earl, he would never stand aside and let it crumble.
Moira remained silent, but he knew better than to take that for her assent. The tension stretched between them, and he voiced another question that had troubled him. “Was it true, what you said? That my father was killed by the man who . . . attacked you?”
The color fled her face, but she nodded. “They both died that night.” She leaned against the wall, lowering her head.
Moira’s earlier words haunted him—that she’d wanted to rid herself of him before he was born. And yet, he dared to suggest another possibility. “Is there any chance at all that the earl fathered me?”
Good Earls Don't Lie Page 29
