Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Priscilla watched the color drain from his face and knew there were truth the words.
She’d hoped…
That Eugene was lying? That her husband didn’t have a treasure trove of secrets? Both, she supposed.
Hurt and anger were coursing through her as she stared at him. “Well? Who is she?”
“Miss Angela Mitchell was my fiancée.”
Her hands trembled as she pressed them together to hold them steady. Emotion would not overwhelm her now. “And you didn’t tell me about her because…”
He let out a long breath. “Why didn’t I tell you about the woman who publicly rejected me?”
Priscilla winced, hearing the hurt in his words. But she had a few wounds of her own. “We had an exact conversation about secrets and information.”
“Angela isn’t a secret.” He raked a hand through his hair.
“Then why didn’t I know about her?”
He took two steps toward her. “Because, I’m…” Scrubbing his face he gave her a long look. “I didn’t think it necessary.”
Anger bubbled inside her. “I’ve kept nothing from you. I’ve told you all the details about Eugene, my finances. How do you think it makes me feel that I keep learning these bits about you? What woman wouldn’t wish to know you’d already been engaged?”
“How did you learn about Angela?”
She lifted the paper, holding it out to him. He crossed over to her, taking the paper from her hand and reading the contents.
“Eugene,” he gritted out through his teeth. “I should have known.”
She shook her head. “I would have learned of her eventually.”
“He’s trying to cause trouble.”
“He shouldn’t be able to,” she fired back.
Wyatt reached out a hand, touching her elbow, but she shrugged out of his touch. She wouldn’t be distracted now. “You’re right.”
“Then why not tell me?” She looked away then, picking a spot on the floor to the right to train her gaze. Anything to keep from meeting his eye.
“I’m ashamed that I wasn’t enough.”
Her breath caught as her gaze flew to his, a new pain radiating through her chest. Had this woman been the love of his life? Was that why her loss had hurt too much to talk about? “Ashamed?”
He came around the desk. “She was with me the night I received this,” he said as he pointed at his scar.
A lump of pain formed in her throat. She tried to swallow it down before she spoke again. “Was she harmed?”
He spasmed. “No. But not because of me. I was on the ground being attacked, I couldn’t have protected her any more than I protected myself.”
Priscilla heard the pain in his voice as she tried to understand precisely what pained him so much. “But she was safe.”
“Not from anything I did. She surrendered her jewels without complaint so they didn’t hurt her but—” His features tightened. “I didn’t protect her.”
She stared at him, confusion making her lips part. “How many thieves were there?”
“Six,” he answered automatically.
“How could any man persevere against a gang of six men?”
“A man should protect the women in his life. The children. I failed and—”
She cocked her head, wishing Angela’s loss didn’t hurt him quite so much.
She’d told herself that she was angry because he’d once again hidden the truth, but on a more basic level, she simply hated that another woman occupied his life.
“Did she say it was your failure that made her end the relationship?”
His jaw clenched. “No. She said that I grew distant and—”
There were so many pieces and they nearly came together in her thoughts. His father, Ralph, Angela. If she could just find the thread of them. “Is it possible that she did end it for exactly the reason she gave you?”
His shoulders flexed as he stood straighter. “Yes.”
“In the information you have omitted, you make me feel like an outsider in your life.”
His sharp intake of breath resonated through the room. “I make you feel that way?”
Rather than answer, she asked another question that had plagued her since reading Eugene’s note. She didn’t want to ask it, and the answer shouldn’t matter, but somehow she couldn’t keep the question of her lips. “Did you love her?”
“No.”
The answer simply stated without hesitation made her gaze snap up and her eyes widen. “You didn’t?”
He shook his head, reaching up to touch her cheek. “She was accomplished, kind, with the right connections. I thought she’d make a good viscountess.”
This all sounded very familiar. Hadn’t he chosen her for much the same reasons. “Was she also willing to make an heir for you?” The idea that Angela had been the love of his life hurt, but somehow the knowledge that she wasn’t hurt nearly as much.
What conclusion might she draw other than Wyatt didn’t wish for love.
Which would be fine except for as much as she’d tried to keep her heart out of their relationship, it was in. She’d gone and fallen in love.
“I’m sure she was. It’s implied in every normal match.”
She nodded, wishing she might lay her head on the desk and cry out her…what? Disappointment?
It shouldn’t matter. He’d allowed her to retain control of her money, she’d gotten what she wished. But somewhere along the way she had to confess to herself that she’d wished for even more. She wanted his heart. “I asked you this once before. Is there anything else I should know about you?”
His hand came to her neck. Warm and gentle, his fingers stroked at her skin, evoking feelings she ignored, pulling away.
“I wasn’t keeping her secret from you, Priscilla. I was just afraid that when you heard she’d left, you’d want to do the same. I told you. What I need from you is for you to stay by my side.”
She looked at him, realizing how much he hurt. He might not have loved Angela but her departure had hurt deeply. “The only thing creating distance between us is what you choose not to share.”
He grimaced, bending down. “You really think that?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
From his right hand, he set a file on her desk. How had she not even noticed he’d carried it. “I came to share this with you.” His dark eyes met hers. “Whatever else you might think, I made a promise to slay your dragons and I’ll keep it.” And then he stood, pivoting to walk back toward the door.
She almost called him back. They hadn’t really solved anything, but her pride stung too much to let the words pass her lips. Instead, she waited until he was gone and then opened the file. At the very first page she gasped, tears stinging her eyes.
He had done as he’d promised. She clutched the file to her chest and rose from the table, racing from the room.
* * *
Wyatt stood in front of the bag in the carriage house, cursing himself for being such a fool.
He’d told Priscilla most of the truth. The part he’d left out?
How he feared he was unlovable.
To do so would be to admit that he wanted her love. That he wished for so much more than this marriage of convenience.
“What happened?” Ralph asked as he strode into the training room. “I just saw Priscilla crying as she raced down the hall.”
“I’m failing yet another person,” he muttered as he swung at the bag.
Ralph let out a grunt. “I’d disagree with you but Priscilla looked damned upset.”
He shook his head. “She found out about Angela from Eugene, of all people.”
Ralph took a swing at the bag as well, his fist coming within a hair’s breadth of Wyatt’s face. Wyatt looked at Ralph to tell him what he thought of such behavior but Ralph’s look of fury stopped him short.
“What did I tell you about being honest with her?”
“I didn’t lie,” he held up his hands.
“You didn’t tell the truth either.”
He closed his eyes. “What do I do?”
Ralph hit the bag again. “You do what I said. Go in there and tell her the entire truth.”
The truth? Did he admit that he’d fallen in love? Risk her admitting she didn’t feel the same?
Did he tell her about how no one had ever really cared for him? Except Ralph of course, but then again, Wyatt paid him.
That wasn’t fair. “Why do you still like me? After everything we’ve been through, why do you hang around still? You could make your own way.”
Ralph stood silently staring at the bag. “You’re my brother.”
“No one else knows that. They wouldn’t condemn you for leaving.”
Ralph shook his head, indignation marking every line of his face. “You think I care what anyone else thinks? I’ve been protecting you since you were little.”
“So that’s it? You don’t think me capable?”
Ralph snorted. “You’re plenty capable. Just like I’m capable. You still keep me in your house because you want to protect me too.”
Wyatt supposed that was true. “Of course I do. You’re my family. But Priscilla is not bound to me by blood. She doesn’t have to love me.”
“But she likely does. And no woman who cares about a man likes to find out that another woman preceded her. Likely lives in your heart.”
Angela did not live in his heart. But for the first time, he considered the possibility that Priscilla had been jealous. Did you love her? she’d asked.
He reached out, grasping the rope that held up the bag. “You really think so?”
“There’s only one way to find out,” Ralph said, hitting the bag again, despite the fact that Wyatt leaned against it. “Go talk to her and be honest.”
Wyatt frowned. “Maybe.”
This time, Ralph didn’t hit the bag, he hit Wyatt. Hard. The fleshy biceps of his arm burned as he let out a grunt of pain, he looked at his brother. “What the—”
“Honestly. Don’t be so thick.”
Wyatt shook his head. “I believe you. And I’ll consider your words. I will. But Priscilla has another problem and it’s more pressing than our feelings for one another.”
"What is it?” Ralph straightened, his chest expanding.
“Eugene.” As quickly as he could, he told Ralph about all he’d learned about Eugene’s false claim to the title.
Ralph’s brows rose higher with each new piece of information. “He faked being the heir?” Ralph grinned. “Didn’t know the man had such a spine.”
“I gave all the evidence to Priscilla. But I could go collect Eugene myself and put him in jail.”
Ralph’s grin slipped. “Do you think Priscilla will forget to be angry with you if you do?”
“No. I know I need to do everything you said. But first, I might resurrect the Bushy Hero for just one night.”
“What for?”
“I don’t want Priscilla anywhere near Eugene’s arrest. The Bushy Hero might have to deliver the man and the evidence to the New Police.”
Ralph frowned. “It’s been one thing to deliver cutpurses with men’s and women’s jewels on them. The police have been reasonably permissive about our own transgressions in breaking the law. But to deliver a file like this…”
Wyatt grimaced. Ralph was correct. “I could bring the file to the police as myself. That would ensure that Eugene was prosecuted.”
“But doesn’t allow you to haul him in while breaking a few bones first.”
Wyatt nodded. It was true. He’d like nothing more than to give Eugene a few more hard hits.
“The old me would have utilized the non-violent method and the Bushy Hero would pummel him into pulp.” But somehow, Wyatt wasn’t either of those men anymore.
He was the man who wanted Priscilla’s heart.
The man who wished to open himself up to love and perhaps receive a woman’s love in return.
A great deal of his anger had melted away.
“And what does Priscilla’s husband wish to do?” Ralph asked.
Wyatt smiled. “How would you feel about donning the cape and mask, just this once?”
Ralph laughed, a booming sound that echoed through the space. “For the chance to pound Eugene? I’d wear pink skirts.”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” Wyatt chuckled.
Ralph slapped him on the back. “And you’re to make amends with your wife. I want a little niece or nephew.”
“You and your talk of an heir,” Wyatt grumbled.
Ralph shook his head. “You know I’ve never cared about the viscountcy. But I do care about you. And a family is the right choice for you.”
So Ralph had been acting out of love all along. Wyatt loved his brother too. Should he be playing matchmaker as well?
It only seemed fair. “You’re a good brother, Ralph. I’ll return the favor. I promise.”
Ralph snorted. “If you mean with a cash reward, I accept. If you mean to settle me with some lady, save your effort.”
Wyatt grinned. He’d give Ralph his full and undivided attention when it came to matching his brother with the proper woman. But first, he’d have to make up with his wife.