“She did not plan it.”
“How would you know?” There was a pause and a clank—Robert assumed Miss Hale had returned her attention to her breakfast. Then, she said, “Oh, in all the excitement I nearly forgot to tell you, I found my bracelet.”
“Did you?” Hale didn’t sound like he cared very much.
“Yes! I stepped on it! It was peeking out from beneath the desk…it must have fallen and gotten pushed back there. Can you imagine? I suppose I should tell Uncle. Maybe the other things weren’t stolen, either.” She laughed slightly. “I feel a bit guilty now for suggesting it.”
Robert didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“I would feel guiltier about the letter,” Hale said flatly.
Robert stepped into the room, and the two went quiet. A strange sense of foreboding gripped him. “What letter?”
“Mr. Townsend! Good morning!”
Miss Hale seemed pleased enough to see him. Mr. Hale was staring at him like he’d committed the worst sort of betrayal.
Miss Hale played with the handle of her teacup. “Well, I was having trouble sleeping last night, after all the excitement, you see, so I wrote to a friend about Miss Worthington’s predicament.”
“A friend who will no doubt gossip to others about the matter,” Mr. Hale added.
“I don’t understand. Why not simply discard the letter?”
“Well,” Miss Hale said again, drawing out the word until it became multiple syllables. “The post runner was by, about an hour ago.”
Robert felt the blood drain from his face. If he’d had any hope of keeping the matter silent and possibly avoiding marriage, it was gone with the night.
“I know I acted impulsively,” she said hurriedly. “After I gave him the letter, I regretted it, but it was too late at that point. I’m sorry, Mr. Townsend.”
She sounded sincere enough.
It didn’t matter, he supposed, whether she’d done it out of some sense of malice toward her cousin or if she was telling him the truth and it had simply been an impulsive moment. It compounded the problem, certainly, but Robert had created the problem in the first place. He sank into the nearest chair, staring at nothing.
“Are you quite all right? Here—” He heard the sound of tea pouring. “Oh, Mr. Cameron! Have you already been outside this morning?”
Robert’s head jerked up, and his heart clenched. Ian was standing in the doorway, looking windswept, copper hair tousled and cheeks flushed the slightest pink. He was wearing his kilt today. The attire of the Highlands suited him, Robert thought numbly, but it made him look untouchable, and remote, and so, so far away.
Robert had the strangest, panicked urge to grasp the green-and-brown plaid and hold on tight.
“Aye.”
“You missed all of the excitement last night,” Miss Hale said mysteriously.
“Catherine!” her brother protested.
Ian went to the hearth to pour himself some coffee. He made a vague noise of interest.
“We may be hearing wedding bells at Llynmore soon.”
Ian still didn’t turn around.
Finally, Miss Hale couldn’t contain the news any longer. Robert watched the scene unfold like a carriage wreck. And just like watching a carriage wreck, there was nothing he could do to stop it. “Miss Worthington might soon be Mrs. Townsend.”
No one else would have noticed, but Robert did. Robert knew him too well. Ian stilled. “Aye?”
Miss Hale drew in a breath, but her brother beat her to it. “Mr. Townsend took advantage of her, and that is all there is to the matter.”
Miss Hale frowned at her brother and then took back the conversation by saying, with relish, “They were caught in her bedchamber, in flagrante delicto!”
Robert felt like he wasn’t even in the room at this point. He didn’t mind it. Maybe he would just fade into nothing, disappear like a wisp of smoke.
Ian turned, and his face was so unreadable that icy fear prickled along Robert’s spine. “Is that true?” he asked Robert directly, his voice even.
“Not…not exactly.”
“No?” Miss Hale asked. “Then what happened?”
“Catherine, I think you have said enough.”
She started to protest, but then she paused and looked at her brother. Hale still had the vaguely sick expression he’d worn the night before. Her face softened.
“Very well. I’m done with my breakfast anyway. Gentlemen.” She nodded at Ian and Robert.
And then, somehow, they were alone. They were less than ten feet from each other, and they’d never felt farther apart.
…
Ian took a drink of coffee. He barely tasted it. Maybe it burned his tongue; he wouldn’t have been able to tell, either way.
He felt curiously numb.
“I was putting the things back,” Robert said abruptly. His voice was shaking. Ian watched as his hand curled into a fist on the table, knuckles turning white. “I was putting them back, into the armoire, and everything went wrong. She woke up. And threw a vase at me. Then she fainted. I couldn’t just let her fall on the floor or hit her head. And Worthington, he—”
Robert was in pain, and Ian couldn’t take anymore. “I believe you,” he cut in.
“You do.”
“Aye.” He could see it very clearly. Robert would have decided to take care of it on his own because of his damnable need to be useful. When Miss Worthington woke, when she fell, he would have been too much of a gentleman to leave her there. Ian could see it clearly. And it still didn’t shake loose the painful shards that seemed to be lodged in his chest.
Robert’s shoulders eased. He looked relieved until Ian said, “You’ll marry her, then?”
“I don’t want to,” he said. “But Miss Hale already posted a letter to a friend. There will be gossip. Everyone thinks I’ve ruined her.”
“Then you’ll marry her?” he repeated. Ian’s voice sounded distant, even to himself, like he was speaking through glass.
Ian knew Robert wouldn’t want to marry her. He also knew that Robert could never simply leave someone in distress, especially if he thought it was his fault.
And some insidious part of him wondered—couldn’t help but wonder—if it wouldn’t come as a relief to Robert, maybe not now, but someday. A forced marriage to Miss Worthington, the choice being taken out of his hands. Life would be…not easy—life was never easy—but it would certainly be easier than this. Easier than him. Easier than forever looking over his shoulder and forever keeping secrets from the people who loved him.
“It’s not that simple.”
“It is that simple.”
“I don’t want to,” Robert said again, sounding helpless.
“Ye already said that.” He set the empty cup down on the table, gaze sliding to Robert’s face and then away. He wanted to reach out and touch him, but he knew it was useless, at this point. “It probably would have happened anyway.”
Robert stared at him blankly. “What do you mean?”
“Marriage. This was never going to be indefinite, was it?” Ian wasn’t saying it to hurt Robert. He was saying it to help him. The pieces were set around them, and Robert was torn in two directions. So Ian would push him in the right one.
Sometimes one had to be cruel to be kind.
Robert drew in a sharp breath. “But I don’t have any feelings for Miss Worthington,” he said.
“You like her, don’t ye? It wouldna be…” Here, he paused, the first outward sign that he wasn’t as composed as he wanted to appear. He hoped Robert didn’t pick up on it. “If I married, it would be a lie, but it wouldna be a lie for you,” he finished.
And it was true, wasn’t it? They weren’t the same. Marriage wasn’t a possibility for Ian, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t still be one for Robert.
“Why are you acting like you don’t care?”
Care? If anything, he cared too much. His chest felt like a bleeding wound, and he would have liked to blame Robert for it. He would have liked to hate him for it. But hating Robert had never been an option for Ian. Lord knew he’d tried.
It took everything in him to lift his shoulder casually, to stare down at Robert coolly. “You’ll be happier this way.”