Chapter 5 #2
“No, you shouldn’t have. She saw right through them, as did I.”
“You did?”
“Of course I did. You aren’t capable of love.”
He absorbed the blow as if it were physical.
Oh, how wrong she was. Yet to tell her would be to endanger her, and this was the quickest way he could remove her from his home for good.
Blast his damn luck. He put on the most flirtatious, juvenile expression he had and winked.
“I am, ‘the rankest compound of villainous smell that ever-offended nostril.’”
She stared at him for the longest time and his smile wavered. Damn it, woman. Recognize my quote from The Merry Wives of Windsor and leave. I am no better than the dirty laundry a cuckold would hide among.
She sniffed as if she were testing the air for the truth of his statement before she shook her head and turned for the door.
“Your servants will be taking care of you from now on, Astley. I have returned the favor of your saving my life. I won’t, however, save your life again when Ross calls you out for ruining Máira. ”
She didn’t slam the door. She just exited Simon’s life forever, and death itself couldn’t have hurt more.
It shouldn’t hurt. It didn’t hurt. What did she care if that rake had proposed to her sister?
Máira—with child? That was the issue. It wasn’t Simon’s.
She knew that. Oh, for a moment she had frozen with the unthinkable horror of it, but it wasn’t his child.
He’d traveled across the sea with injuries that would render any man impotent.
She didn’t care how masculine and virile he wanted her to believe him to be.
No man was performing under those circumstances.
Not even Simon Clark.
She hurried down the stairs and saw Máira being helped into her coat by Mandal, the butler. “Wait!” She called but her sister ignored her, buttoning up her coat with shaking hands. That was the real sign of her distress. Máira didn’t tremble.
Unable to reach out and hold her sister, Caillen blocked the door and motioned for the servants to leave them at once. The footmen and the butler disappeared. She had no doubt they were listening, but she would not give them a show.
“Please. Let us go into the drawing room and discuss it.”
“There’s nothing to discuss. This is my problem.”
It was like a visceral slap to everything they were as a family of six sisters who’d been as close as ever at one time.
The cold pronouncement of her pregnancy being a problem was unconscionable.
Yet this was London, the ton would give them all the cut direct and their younger sisters would have another despicable brand attached to their name due to Máira’s pregnancy.
Máira immediately closed her eyes, her face scrunching up with pain as tears spilled down her cheeks. “That’s not what I meant. My future is my problem.”
“Please,” Caillen begged. The desire to touch Máira warred with her need to not be touched. “Come into the drawing room.”
Máira blew out a breath and then made her way into the drawing room without another word. She stopped just inside the door. “Are there any poor aristocrats in London?”
Caillen didn’t need to look around the room to understand why her sister asked the question.
Decorated in robin egg blue and white, the oversized room was a bit over the top by Scottish standards, with gold filagree trim and lavish family portraits.
Plush rugs covered the floor and there were so many different seating areas, a person wasn’t quite sure where to sit.
Máira settled on the plush chairs near the marble fireplace, where a fire was burning brightly in the hearth.
“More peers exist on credit than anyone knows. Ross and Astley, however, are not among the poor.”
“I would say not.”
“They are both generous with their funds.”
“I know more than most how generous both men can be,” Máira replied as she removed her coat and sat down in front of the fire. Caillen handed her a handkerchief, and her sister took a moment to compose herself before speaking.
“He’s not the father.”
“It took me a few seconds to figure that out.”
A wobbly smile crossed Máira’s face. “Do all men think women are so stupid as to believe they could perform while on their deathbed?”
“I believe all men hope to die in that manner.” A flash of the past caused a sharp pain and Caillen flinched, rubbing her forehead as she pushed the memory away.
“Are you ill?”
“No, I’m fine, it’s nothing.” She cleared her throat and brought her hands to her lap where she folded them in a display of serenity she did not feel. She did not meet her sister’s gaze. “Who is the father of your child?”
“My husband.”
It was the one thing Máira could say to force Caillen to look up from her neatly folded hands. “Your what?”
“You didn’t know? I was on my honeymoon in France when we rescued Astley.”
“But Astley proposed.”
“Because my husband obtained an annulment.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because he told Ross and Iseabail, he would return me to London with my virtue intact.”
“But he didn’t.”
“We didn’t. It was my choice.”
“Your choice? But why?”
Máira paused to stare at her and she became instantly aware that her younger sister knew more about what truly happened between a man and wife than she did.
Whatever it was, Máira’s experience was vastly different than Caillen’s.
Although, to be honest, she and William had not had any time to… she pushed the thought away.
“What I mean to say, did you know he didn’t plan to stay wed to you?”
“I did.”
“Then why would you risk your good name and reputation?”
Tears welled once more in her sister’s eyes, and Máira dabbed them away. “I love him.”
If there was one emotion she understood, it was the foolish emotion called love, but it wasn’t real.
Members of the ton didn’t expect to love a spouse—ever.
Love for a sibling or a child, that was real.
Love between a man and a woman? That was a fleeting fantasy that would tear a person in two.
“Does he love you?” She asked despite knowing the answer.
“I thought he did, but he didn’t.”
Of course he didn’t. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going home.”
“To Iseabail’s?”
“No, to Urquhart Castle. I asked Ross before he left and he said I could go if I traveled with my maid and outriders.”
“Then what?”
“Then I will have the peace and quiet to decide what I’m going to do.”
“Have you told your husband?”
“No, he is no longer my husband. Besides, he’s returned to the sea. I have no idea how to reach him.”
“But Ross—"
“No, Caillen. I do not wish for Ross to know. You cannot tell him, or Iseabail.”
“Máira—”
“No, Caillen,” she said, her voice more forceful this time. “I must insist on you not telling them. They will try to talk me into marrying Elias again, but I will not marry a man who clearly does not want me as his wife. Swear to me you will let me tell them when I am ready.”
“You’re certain?”
Máira nodded. “I am.”
Caillen believed her. In their short conversation, it was as if her sister had found her strength once more and knew what path she wanted to take. At least for now.
“When will you leave?”
“Tomorrow. I think it’s best others don’t see me get sick too often.”
“Does it happen often?”
“Only when I walk.” A grin spread across Máira’s face and they laughed together.
“That’s what mother said when she was pregnant with Robina.”
Máira’s eyes twinkled and a dimple appeared on her cheek. “It was enough for us to make a pact to never have children. It seems you were the first one to break that pact and owe the forfeit.”
“No, Iseabail broke it long before me. We’ll have to collect from her. From what she experienced and from my easy pregnancy,” Caillen lied with an ease that shocked her, “I guess you are the one who is more like our mother than any of us realized.”
“You have no idea.” Máira stood and put on her coat.
Caillen handed her a decorative vase. “Just in case you need it by the time you get to the carriage.”
“I would give it back to you, but I’m afraid I’ll put it to good use.”