After ten minutes, his leg stopped aching quite so fiercely, so he got up to inspect the fine landscape over the fireplace and the excellent collection of Meissen porcelain in a pair of glass-fronted cabinets. That took up perhaps ten minutes, after which he returned to the settee. After an equal amount of time, all spent straining his ears to detect any signs of life in the hall, he decided enough was enough.
Mentally cursing eccentric old ladies and young stubborn ones, he stalked out to the entrance hall. Only the dust motes were stirring, dancing in the bolts of sunlight coming in the narrow windows set high in the wall. Two corridors led off from the central space, one back to the kitchen and the other likely to more drawing rooms and the dining room.
That meant he should head for the spiral staircase at the back of the hall and the family rooms on the upper floors. He just hoped he didn’t have to search the entire bloody house to find Ainsley. God knows what he might stumble into. A mad monk locked in the cellars wouldn’t surprise him in the least.
When he reached the top of the stairs, a long hall ran straight to the back of the house. As he followed it, a thick carpet runner muffled his footsteps. Royal could usually move as quietly as any man raised to hunt and track in the Highlands, but his limp was more pronounced after the long ride. Bad enough to be skulking about like a common criminal, worse to sound like a peg-legged pirate while doing so.
The first door he came to was open, so he stuck his head in.
And almost fell flat on his face.
Sitting on a chaise by the bay window, her slippered feet resting on a stack of pillows and a book propped up on her belly, was an exceedingly pregnant Lady Ainsley Matthews.
***
Ainsley grimaced at another sharp twinge in the vicinity of her tailbone. The pains in her lower back had been worse the last few days. It was certainly discouraging, since both the midwife and the surgeon claimed she had at least another three weeks before the little acrobat in her tummy was ready to make an appearance. Spending that much time in monumental discomfort was a daunting prospect, especially because it also meant another month of ceaseless worry. Her brain—like her body—felt sluggish and thick, refusing to do what she needed it to do.
Come up with an answer to her growing—literally—dilemma.
She sighed and rubbed her enormous stomach both to comfort herself and the baby, who was often kicking like a stubborn donkey. Sometimes she thought the poor mite could even be rebelling at its fate—a monster for a father, and a mother foolish enough to let such man into her life in the first place.
Ainsley knew that if she didn’t exercise a great deal of brains and caution, she and her child would find themselves forever yoked to a man who didn’t possess a shred of decency or compassion in his cold, black heart.
She needed a solution, and she needed it fast.
At least she had Aunt Margaret in her corner. No one else could have protected her as fiercely as the elderly woman who had taken her in without hesitation, throwing herself wholeheartedly into the ruse. So far, they’d pulled it off, too. But for the doctor and the midwife, no one outside this household knew Ainsley was pregnant. Certainly her own family had never guessed, still thinking she’d come north into unwilling exile.
While there had been a potentially permanent solution to her problem, the handsome and immensely irritating Scotsman who’d unknowingly thrown her a lifeline deserved better than the horrific scandal Ainsley would drag in her wake. Royal Kendrick had been through enough without her further torching his life like a Guy Fawkes effigy.
Sighing, she once more propped her book on her stomach and tried to focus on the page. It was quite a dreadful book, but she’d run out of reading material last week and had been forced to raid Aunt Margaret’s library. Sadly, her aunt’s taste tended to run to turgid philosophical tracts and bad translations of Latin poetry.
A quiet footstep sounded in the hall. She felt rather than saw someone pause in the doorway and heard a choked exclamation. Frowning, she glanced up, and what little brain she had left scattered like a flock of frightened starlings. Gazing back at her were the same, green-glass eyes she’d been so vividly recalling only a few moments ago. That riveting gaze was now taking in her gigantic belly with ever growing astonishment.
Royal looked as tall, broad-shouldered, and handsome as ever. Many a susceptible girl had all but swooned when he came into a ballroom, imagining him to be a sensitive and romantic poet, with his brooding manner and extraordinary malachite eyes. His limp only added to the image, as did the dramatic Highland garb he wore to such effect.
The idiotic misses had been wrong, at least about the romantic, sensitive part. Royal was as blunt and bad-tempered as Ainsley.
At the moment, though, it wasn’t his looks or his manners that were stealing her breath. It was the horrifying realization that her secret was finally out.
When her head started to swim, she had to force herself to start taking in slow, deep breaths.
Don’t panic.
Royal was clearly stunned, which meant he hadn’t known about her condition. So, now she just had to persuade him to keep his Scottish mouth shut.
“What are you doing here?” she blurted out.
He shook himself, almost like a retriever coming in from the rain. “I was checking to see if anyone actually lived in this benighted house. I found only the cook and her, er, charming daughter.”
Ainsley couldn’t help scowling. Betty was a very pretty girl, who was also not as big as a house.
“I suppose Betty flirted with you, didn’t she?” Then she mentally winced. Who the blasted man flirted with hardly mattered under the circumstances.
Royal stared at her for another excruciatingly long moment. Then he flashed a smile so warm and charming she went lightheaded again.
“You know I don’t flirt,” he said. Then he tilted his head, as if considering. The late afternoon sunlight caught the red in his burnished mahogany hair, making it glow like fire. “Except with you.”
Her heart skipped a beat. She ignored it, since her pulse was often a tad erratic these days.
“I repeat, sir,” she said firmly. “What are you doing here?”
“I should think it obvious. I’ve come to see you.”
He crossed the room to join her, his limp pronounced.
“Eating for two, I see,” he said, inspecting the generous tea service of sandwiches and cakes. “I hope you don’t mind sharing. I thought I would starve to death waiting in vain for your aunt to appear.”
“Ah, so you thought you’d explore on your own. That was brassy of you.”
When he sat down next to her, Ainsley tried to shift over to give him some room. Royal Kendrick was a big man, and given her present state it would be a miracle if the old chaise didn’t collapse under their combined weight.
“You don’t have to move,” he said. “There’s plenty of room for both of us.”
They were all but thigh-to-thigh.
She was reminded that Royal had very nice thighs, indeed. “You’re quite squishing me. You’re ridiculously big.”
“Not as big as you,” he said as he reached for a teacake.
She glared at him. “Thank you for reminding me what an imbecile you are.”
“I’m teasing, lass,” he said after he swallowed the teacake in one gulp. “You’re as lovely as always. But I’m sure you know that.”
When his gaze flickered over her body with evident appreciation, she couldn’t help gaping at him. How could a man find her attractive when her figure resembled the Prince Regent’s rotund bulk?
“Although your present condition does explain a few things,” he added.
Oh, God. Whatever must he think of her? This had to be the most embarrassing moment of her life.
“Royal, I—”
He plucked the book from her lap and lifted an eyebrow. “Spinoza? Really?”
�
�I was trying to lull myself into a doze.”
“That would do it.”
After placing the book on the table, he reached for the teapot and replenished her cup. “Here, have some more tea. I suspect my sudden appearance has given you a shock, although no doubt a welcome one.”
She eyed him, not trusting his cheerful mood. “You’re sure of that, are you?”
“Without a doubt. We always get along so splendidly.”
“Perhaps, when we’re not trying to kill each other.”
“Drink.” He handed her the cup.
After a few sips, which did seem to steady her, she put down her cup and adopted a stern expression. “Mr. Kendrick—”
“Mr. Kendrick? Pet, I think we’re beyond such formalities, especially under the present circumstances.”
“Mr. Kendrick,” she repeated firmly,” I do not want you to take this the wrong way—”
He flashed a roguish grin. “You’re sure of that, are you?”
She contemplated stabbing him with the cake knife.
He took in her glare. “All right, I promise I won’t tease anymore.”
“A promise you will no doubt break within the next ten minutes.”
“Ainsley, it’s just so bloody good to see you that I couldn’t help myself.”
He was studying her with obvious pleasure, which she found rather perplexing. “Royal, what are you doing here? Now is not the most convenient time for visitors.”
“Yes, but I had no way of knowing that.”
“You know very well that you shouldn’t just pop in on people without warning. Nothing in my letters suggested for a moment that you should.”
It had been a mistake to write to him, but she’d been bored, lonely, and afraid of what lay before her. While Royal often drove her into a mental frenzy, he also made her feel safe, as odd as it seemed. Sending those letters had eased her anxiety, as if setting words to page would somehow protect her and the baby from harm.
“Victoria was worried about you, so she suggested I ride up here and see if you were all right.” His shrug was apologetic. “It seemed like a sensible suggestion at the time.”
Her heart stuttered as she pressed a quick hand to her belly. “Do you think Victoria knows about this?”
“No, pet. She simply sensed something was wrong. Nothing specific.”
“Thank God.” Then she mustered a scowl. “Apparently it didn’t occur to you to give me some notice before charging north on your noble steed.”
He weighed his reply. Or perhaps he was simply pondering what to eat next, since he reached across her for a meringue.
“It occurred to me. But you might have told me not to come,” he said before swallowing the tart whole.
“Will you please stop shoveling food into your mouth? It’s like watching a vulture attack a carcass.”
He smiled. “You’re one to talk.”
“I’m allowed, you brute. I’m eating for two.”
“I recall that you liked to eat even before you got in your present condition.”
For some ridiculous reason, his comment stung more than it should have. “If you’re going to be insulting, please leave now.”
He looked startled that she took his banter so seriously. “Ainsley, I like that you don’t pretend to be something you’re not. Society girls pick at their food, and they must spend a good part of their life on the verge of starvation. You’re far too intelligent for that nonsense.”
She managed a weak smile. Really, it was ridiculous to fight about something as inconsequential as her eating habits when her carefully constructed ruse was crumbling to bits.
“And you should have something to eat,” he added, placing some sandwiches on her plate. “You need to keep up your strength.”
He seemed perfectly sincere. Even when they argued, she always knew Royal worried about her more than himself.
In fact, no one had ever worried about her quite like he did, not even her own family. When he abandoned her after that horrible incident in London, she’d felt astonishingly bereft. Yes, she’d behaved badly by not telling him about Cringlewood, but he’d never given her the chance to explain. When she tried, sending him an apologetic note two days after that disastrous dinner party, he and Lord Arnprior had already departed for Scotland.
Ainsley had done her best to forget Royal Kendrick after that, knowing that her future did not lie with an impecunious younger son from the Highlands. Only when they met again in Glasgow this past Christmas, had they been able to reestablish a tentative sort of friendship.
She took a bite of cucumber sandwich, mostly to please him. The baby now took up so much room she felt like her stomach was crowding into her throat.
Royal studied her. “How are you, sweetheart? Really?”
She forced a wobbly smile, resisting the foolish urge to start bawling. “I’m perfectly well.”
He lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “Try again.”
She put down her plate with a sigh. “All right. If you must know, I feel perfectly wretched.”
And she wasn’t just talking about her aching back, or her swollen feet, or how hard it was to get a decent night’s sleep. Her life was a disaster, and she had no idea how to repair the damage.
“I take it that the Marquess of Cringlewood is responsible for your present condition.”
She blinked in dismay that he would take so blunt a tack. Then again, blunt was Royal Kendrick’s middle name.
“I wouldn’t have expected anything else,” he added as she stewed in silence. “I’m just a bit surprised that it happened in the first place.”
Meaning no decent girl would allow something like this to happen. Or, if she did, she would have the good sense to marry the man responsible.
“You aren’t the only one,” she muttered.
He frowned. “What do you mean by that?”
She grimaced. “I cannot imagine what you must think of me.”
Even though he’d done a very good job of hiding it, he had to be disgusted with her. It made her sick to her stomach to know she’d lost his good opinion.
And it wasn’t even your fault.
But how could she tell him that? Men always blamed women, even good men like Royal Kendrick. Ainsley wouldn’t hold it against him if he did, because her own stupidity had walked her right into the situation in the first place. No one had forced her to go off with Leonard that afternoon, nor had she tried to stop him—at least not at first.
By the time she had, it had been too late to do anything but try to manage the stunning and terrible consequences. Because everyone, from her father on down, would have held her responsible, as unfair as that was. They would have said that she was the guardian of her virtue, not the man she was supposed to marry. Some might even say she was lucky Leonard still wanted to marry her, given that she was no longer a virgin.
Well, they could say whatever they wanted, because Ainsley would never let any man treat her like that again, even if it meant spending the rest of her life in a dreary hole in Scotland. She would join a convent before she allowed Leonard to touch her or get anywhere near her child.
She jumped a bit as Royal’s long fingers wrapped around hers in a comforting hold. She gripped him rather desperately, feeling like a lost child as she stared into his warm gaze.
Apparently, he wasn’t disgusted with her, after all. She sniffled, horrified to find herself blinking back tears.
“Och, tears from Lady Ainsley?” he gently teased. “Does she have a heart, after all?”
“You’re a lout,” she said, trying to scowl. As usual, he understood she hated feeling vulnerable. “And my tears have nothing to do with you. Breeding tends to make one feel mawkish.”
“I’m not judging you, lass, especially not for wanting to avoid marriage with Cringlewood, which I presume is the reason you’re hiding in this backwater. The man’s an intolerable ass.
Why you let him come near you in the first place is the bloody mystery.”
Annoyed, she tried to yank her hand away. “It wasn’t really my choice.”
When his fingers tightened, she mentally cursed at her slip.
“Are you saying he forced himself on you?” he asked in a voice that had gone soft and rather terrifying.
Damn, damn, damn.
“That’s not what I meant,” she said, finally able to extract her hand. The last thing she need was a knight errant. Knowing Royal, he would ride straight to London and challenge Leonard to a duel. Then the cat would be truly out of the bag.
“What did you mean?”
“I…nothing.”
His incredulous gaze dropped to her belly. “Nothing?”
She bit her lip in frustration. Pregnancy had turned her brain to mush. “It was a misunderstanding. Between his lordship and me.”
“That is one hell of a misunderstanding.”
“Don’t you think I know that? I’m the one with the cannonball in my stomach.”
Royal shook his head, clearly perturbed. “If the marquess finds out about this…”
“I’ll be forced to marry him. Which is why he can never find out.”
He made a visible effort to collect himself. “Ainsley, I don’t wish to offend you—”
“Too late, I’m afraid,” she interrupted.
“And you know I’ll support you in any way I can,” he continued. “But Cringlewood is the father of your child. When he does find out you kept this from him—”
She jabbed a finger into his cravat. “You don’t know a blasted thing about it, Royal Kendrick. I do not want that man anywhere near me, or my child. He’s utterly selfish and mean-spirited, and would make my life a misery. I refuse to marry him.”
Troubled, he searched her face. Ainsley’s heart all but lodged in her throat, praying he would accept her vague explanation.
He wrapped his hand around her finger. “I would never betray you, lass. I promise. Word of a Kendrick.”
A Hero's Guide to Love Page 14
