“Better?” he asked, giving her hand a quick squeeze.
She opened her eyes and offered a small smile. “Yes, frightened me, that’s all…He came by earlier—William, I mean—but he didn’t mention what would happen to them.”
“Did he explain the rest?”
“He did. I…I don’t know what to say.” The small smile widened. “They went through a great deal of trouble.”
“They caused a great deal more.”
“So did I.”
He didn’t immediately argue, though it was his first instinct. “That would depend, I think, on whether or not you suspected your uncle capable of something like this.”
He gestured at her bruised cheek which, as the physician had indicated, was rapidly progressing to a black eye. He forced himself to ask the question he had been dreading most.
“Had he hit you before, Mirabelle?”
She hesitated before answering, which was answer enough.
“Not in a very long time,” she finally whispered without meeting his eyes.
“But he had hit you.”
Her nod was barely perceptible. “A few times, when I was a child and hadn’t yet figured out how to evade his temper.”
“Was this before your first visit to Haldon?”
She shook her head, and winced at the resulting pain. “Not all.”
“Yet you said nothing,” he responded and let go of her hand.
She rubbed the heel of it against the counterpane. “It stopped, Whit. Or, at least, I learned how to avoid it. I was already frightened you’d discover my uncle’s shameful behavior. There didn’t seem, to me, to be a good reason to tell anyone.”
“We could have helped you.”
“I know. I regret that.” She closed her eyes on a sigh. “I’m so very sorry, Whit. I wish I had done this all so differently.”
And he wished she wouldn’t apologize. It only served to make him feel worse. “An apology isn’t necessary. You’re not responsible for this.”
“Of course I am,” she argued tiredly “I chose to keep secrets out of pride, and—”
“This was my failure, and I take full responsibility for it.”
“Your failure?” Mirabelle gaped at him, completely bewildered. “What are you talking about? You haven’t failed at anything. You—”
Swearing suddenly, he strode back to the foot of her bed, where he began to pace.
“Whit?”
He stopped abruptly and gestured at her face. “You have marks on you.”
“From my uncle,” she said, confusion warring with exasperation. “Not from you.”
“Yes, your uncle and Mr. Hartsinger. Men from whom I should have protected you. I should have…” He trailed off, dragging a hand through his hair and resuming his agitated walk.
She watched him for a minute before trying to speak. “Whit—”
“How many times?” he suddenly demanded, whirling on her again. “How many times did I tell you I wanted you gone from Haldon, that you weren’t welcome here?”
“You didn’t know. You couldn’t have—”
“It was my business to know. It was my responsibility as head of this house to see to your welfare.”
“And so you did.”
He barked out a humorless laugh. “By taunting you? Insulting you?”
“No,” she said softly but firmly. “By letting me taunt and insult you back.”
He opened his mouth, closed it again. “What the devil are you talking about?”
“You seem to have a distorted memory of our disagreements, Whit,” she sniffed. “I wasn’t a helpless puppy you kicked about and left cowering in the corner.”
“Of course you weren’t.” His voice gentled as he came to her. “I didn’t mean to imply…Sweetheart, you’re the bravest woman I know. The most courageous—”
“For pity’s sake, don’t,” she snapped, swatting at the hand he’d lifted to brush at her hair. “I was a brat, Whit, and well you know it.”
He dropped his arm and eyed her sternly. “You were nothing of the sort.”
“I was everything of the sort. I poked and prodded, teased and insulted. I instigated more than half our fights and participated fully in all of them.”
“That doesn’t change what—”
“And—I thoroughly enjoyed every moment of it.” When he only looked at her, disbelief evident on every feature, she continued. “Have you not stopped to consider why I was so quick to battle with you? Why I never tried to gain the favor of a wealthy and powerful peer?”
“Likely because I wouldn’t let you,” he muttered.
“No. I may have said that myself not so long ago and believed it, but it wouldn’t have been true. I fought with you because I adored it. I fought with you because I could…because you let me.”
“Let you?” he scoffed. “Bloody hell, I hardly gave you a choice.”
“Of course I had a choice,” she huffed. “It would have been easy enough to stop baiting you, easy enough to ignore the barbs you offered. And you would have ceased delivering them after a time—sooner, if I’d thrown in a few tears. But I’d never been the least inclined to cry or—”