Chapter Twenty-One
She’d forgotten about the Scottish marriage laws.
All these weeks, Ainsley had thought she and Tira were finally safe from discovery, from scandal, and, most importantly, from Cringlewood. She’d convinced herself they’d pulled it off, and that she and Royal would finally have the chance to create the life they both longed for.
How naïve she’d been.
Clutching her candle, Ainsley snuck down the quiet hallway toward Royal’s bedroom. She’d heard him pass by her door five minutes ago, recognizing the quiet but unmistakable hitch in his tread. He’d hesitated outside her door for several long seconds, while she’d waited with bated breath, half wishing he’d barge in and demand an explanation for her odd behavior this afternoon. But he didn’t, of course. Royal never demanded or pushed, though sometimes she thought it might be better if he did. If he forced her to tell him the truth, she imagined that somehow she’d be absolved of the consequences of her own stupid behavior.
“Almost like going to confession,” she muttered. “And I’m not even a Catholic.”
But no one could absolve her of her sins or fix the mess she’d created. She needed to think, and then she needed to act. And she had to do it in a way that didn’t make her husband even more suspicious than he already was.
Sinking into one of the chairs in the corridor, Ainsley put her candle down on the small table next to it. She covered her face and sucked in slow, steady breaths, trying to quell the panic that had threatened to overcome her after reading her mother’s letter.
Royal had known something was wrong, and she’d had to exert every ounce of willpower against the urge to run into his arms and tell him everything. But if he ever found out how foolish she’d been, both with her own safety and with Tira’s, he’d never forgive her. In fact, he just might decide to make use of those liberal Scottish marriage laws to be rid of an exceedingly troublesome wife. So far, she’d brought nothing but trouble to the Kendrick family, and she might bring down a great deal more if she didn’t find a way to protect all
of them, especially Tira, from the potential mayhem thundering their way.
Ainsley knew what she had to do, even though the idea made her cringe with guilt. As far as she could tell, it was the only thing that could potentially protect her from Cringlewood’s threats. Divorce was all but impossible in England, but not in Scotland, as her mother had triumphantly pointed out in her letter.
The fact that Cringlewood still wished to marry her was something Ainsley had never thought remotely possible. Her former fiancé was a proud, arrogant man, and should have been mortally offended to be thrown over in favor of an untitled and relatively impecunious Scotsman. Once she married Royal, it should have been inconceivable for the marquess to want anything to do with her again.
Yet according to her mother, he did. If anything, Leonard was more terrifyingly obsessed than ever, although Ainsley wasn’t sure if he had the leverage needed to fully bend her to his will. Mamma, unfortunately, had been frustratingly vague about what she’d actually told Leonard about Ainsley’s circumstances, and what he intended to do about it.
“My lady, are ye all right?”
She jerked upright, almost knocking over her candle. William stood a few feet away, gazing at her with consternation.
“Do ye wish me to fetch Mr. Royal?” he asked when she gaped at him like a booby.
She mustered a bracing smile. “Indeed no. I’m perfectly fine.”
William looked even more concerned. “Or I can fetch yer maid if ye’d like, my lady.”
Sighing, Ainsley picked up the candle and rose. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.”
The footman flicked a gaze over her figure, his eyes widening with alarm. Even in the dim light of the hallway, she could see the poor fellow blush, no doubt unused to a lady wandering around the hall in a frilly wrapper and nightcap. Ainsley had always thought of herself as a rather dignified person, but her recent behavior would suggest otherwise.
“Are you on your way to Mr. Royal’s room to help him get ready for bed?” she asked, trying to regain control of the situation.
William’s cheeks blazed an even deeper red. “Aye, ma’am. I usually pulls his boots off for him at the end of the night.”
“I’ll help Mr. Royal tonight, William. You may retire.”
He seemed flummoxed. Like all the servants in the household, he was aware that she and Royal did not share a bed.
“Um, but Mr. Royal—”
She shooed him. “Good night, William.”
“Yes, my lady. Good night, my lady.”
The footman scurried off, likely to share a juicy bit of gossip about Mr. Royal’s wife preparing to storm her husband’s bedroom to pull off his boots. It all felt suddenly rather ridiculous.
But it’s what you want, isn’t it?
She did want it, desperately. But not like this. Not when it felt like a lie.
But a necessary lie. You’re protecting him, and Tira, too.
Ainsley marched down the hall. She could spend all night dithering, but there was
only one course of action—to make her marriage a real one. It was the only way she could protect the Kendrick family, whether Royal ultimately approved of her tactics or not.
So make him approve.
Ainsley tapped on his door.
“Enter.”
She slipped inside and put her candle on the chest of drawers.
Royal was comfortably ensconced in a claw-footed armchair by the fireplace, apparently deep in a book. Clad only in breeches and a flowing white shirt, with his long, booted legs propped against the firedogs, he looked more a rugged Highlander than a respectable Glasgow businessman.
“Ah, Will,” he said without glancing up. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten me.”
“I dismissed William for the evening.”
Royal carefully marked his place and put the book aside. Then he glanced over, his gaze tracking from the tips of her feathered mules to the top of her frilly nightcap. By the end of his perusal, his dark eyebrows were all but touching his hairline.
“Is this a social call?” he finally asked. “Or is there a matter you need to discuss that couldn’t wait until morning?”
Ainsley realized she hadn’t thought of a way to open up what was sure to be an awkward discussion. As she searched for an answer that sounded at least somewhat reasonable, her gaze snagged on the decanter on the table next to his chair.
“Cannot a wife visit her husband’s bedroom for a small brandy before bedtime?” she brightly asked.
When Royal’s mouth dropped open, she had to repress the impulse to groan. The poor man must think her entirely demented. One moment she was pushing him away, and the next she was charging into his bedroom like a brazen hussy.
She almost fainted with relief when his glance slid over her once more, and a slow smile replaced his befuddled look.
“Indeed a wife can,” he said, rising to his feet. “But I’m afraid this husband only has whisky to offer. Do you want me to ring for Will to bring brandy?”
“Whisky is fine. Besides, I’ve already shocked the poor fellow enough for one evening. He looked ready to swoon when I ran into him in the hall.”
“I can imagine, especially with you dressed in such delightful dishabille.”
“I’m sure I looked ridiculous, wandering around the halls like Ophelia or one of the Kendrick family ghosts.”
“We don’t have ghosts. And ridiculous is not how I would describe your appearance, my love.”
She blushed at the heat in his gaze, but then remembered why she’d come to his room in the first place.
“Oh? And how would you describe me?” She mentally cringed at her squeaky voice.
Once, she’d been very good at flirtation, but the travails of her life had destroyed the innocent fun of it.
Royal pretended to give the question serious thought, although his mouth twitched with amusement. “Charmingly delectable
would best describe it. I’ve never seen you in a nightcap before. It makes you look . . .”
Ainsley sighed. She hadn’t really thought through her attire, either. A beribboned nightcap and a wrapper with a ridiculous amount of silk, ribbon, and lace was not an ensemble calculated to turn a man’s mind to seduction, especially not a man like Royal. Yards of frilly nonsense would strike him as expensive foolishness.
“Rather like a bag of laundry exploded when I walked by, I expect,” she said.
He closed the distance between them and planted a kiss on the tip of her nose. “You look incredibly sweet. Almost like an angel escaped from heaven, bent on a spot of mischief. With me.”
She had to smile at his nonsense. “Be careful what you wish for, Mr. Kendrick. You just might get it.”
“Then I will be sure to wish very hard, Mrs. Kendrick,” he murmured as he handed her to the chair.
She sank down, happy for the chance to perhaps settle her wayward heartbeat.
When he poured out a measure of whisky for her, Ainsley lifted an eyebrow at the small amount.
He lifted one in return. “Need a spot of liquid courage, do we?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“You hid your nerves very well, but your mother’s letter rattled you.”
Royal poured her an extra splash. After retrieving his own glass, he then propped his broad shoulders against the mantelpiece and commenced studying her with a thoughtful frown.
Ainsley had to admit he appeared rather intimidating as he loomed over her with his brooding demeanor, tall and impossibly brawny. But even if he did look like a Highland brigand, he could never frighten her. She knew his heart, and it held more generosity and love than a woman like her had any right to expect.
She gave him what she hoped was a serene smile before taking a fortifying sip of whisky.
Royal continued to study her, obviously waiting her out. But when it came to keeping secrets, she was equally adept.
Finally, he let out a small sigh. “I don’t wish to pry, love—”
“Oh, of course you do. You’re a terrible busybody. All the Kendricks are.”
He flashed a quick grin. “True, but we always have everyone’s best interests at heart, including yours. Especially yours.”
“I do know that, and I’m grateful.”
“But?”
“But . . . nothing. My mother caught me up on our family’s affairs, and that’s all.”
“That’s all?” he echoed, more than slightly incredulous.
She simply shrugged.
“Even Angus could tell you were distressed,” he said, “and he’s about as sensitive as a stag in rut.”
Ainsley practically choked on her drink. “Thank you for putting that appalling image in my brain.”
“Made to underline my point.”
He took the glass from her hand and plunked it down on the table. Then he grasped her chin and tilted it up. Ainsley thought about bristling, but then reminded herself that she was here to seduce, not to argue. And his gaze was so warm and understanding, his smile so tender, that any ire faded away. It was hard to bristle when a man loved you so much and constantly put your needs ahead of his own.
Since he was also as sharp as the point of a javelin, she’d best parcel out at least a bit of the truth or he might get too suspicious.
“Very well,” she admitted. “I was
upset.”
He briefly cupped her cheek before dragging over a padded ottoman from beside the hearth. Placing it in front of her, he settled onto it, wincing a bit as he stretched out his leg.
“Won’t you tell me about it?” he quietly asked.
She nodded. “Her letter was quite cold. I’m not used to that from her. Mamma always doted on me.”
“Both your parents did, as I recall.”
“They did,” she said, feeling a bit wistful. “I was the baby of the family and the only girl. So, it makes sense, I suppose.”
“Not to mention you are beautiful, funny, and sweet.”
She widened her eyes at him. “Royal Lancelot Kendrick, you should not tell such plumpers. I was never
sweet.”
He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. He lingered for a few moments, letting his tongue slip a fraction between her lips. As soon as she started to respond, he pulled back, his gaze smoky with desire.
“One can be tart and sweet at the same time,” he said.
“You make me sound like a cherry pie.”
“An exceedingly apt analogy, pet. But getting back to that letter—”
She slid a slow, teasing tongue over her upper lip, hoping to distract him. “Perhaps you might like another sample, just to check.”
When he gently traced the outline of her lip, Ainsley’s heart gave a hard thump.
“I will make a note so as not to lose my place,” he said. “But first tell me more about your mamma’s letter.”
She sighed. “Oh, very well. As I mentioned, she informed me of my sister-in-law’s pregnancy, but also said that I was not to expect further updates, especially not from my brother. Or from either of my brothers or their families, in fact. According to Mamma, they’re all mortified and disgusted by my selfish behavior.”
“Your brothers sound like a pair of stupid prats, if you ask me.”
“You’re sadly correct in that assessment.”
“Then why does their disapproval trouble you? As far as I’m concerned, they’re beneath your notice.”
“Perhaps, but my sisters-in-law are quite nice, and I do hate the idea of never seeing any of my nieces and nephews again.”
Royal frowned. “Even your family must eventually become reconciled to our marriage. At that point, you can try reestablishing relations.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, forcing a smile. “I have all the family I need. I don’t think I could manage both mine and the Kendricks, to tell you the truth.”
“Of course it matters,” he replied. “I know how much this hurts you, Ainsley, and I’m deeply sorry for it.”
He was right. Her family’s rejection had been a dagger blow to the heart. Even though she’d known it would be the likely outcome, such a comprehensive break was still shocking. Only by acceding to their demands could she possibly return to their good favor. That she could never do, for a hundred reasons starting with the man sitting before her.
“Would you like Nick to write to your parents?” he added. “A letter from the Earl of Arnprior might help, especially if he employs his most imperious, high-stickler manner. Your parents would like that—a message from one snob to another, as it were.”
“God, no! He can’t ever write to them, and neither can you.”
When Royal’s eyebrows shot up, she mentally cursed her blunder. But it would be fatal if any
of the Kendricks communicated with her parents. Then the whole sordid mess would surely come out, and Royal, along with the rest of his family, would likely toss her out onto the street.
“I mean, it’s very nice of you to offer,” she amended, trying to smile, “but I’m convinced it would do no good, and might only make matters worse.”
When his gaze narrowed suspiciously, Ainsley felt heat creeping into her face.
“What aren’t you telling me?” he asked.
“Nothing!”
He made a frustrated sound under his breath. “Ainsley, I truly wish you would trust me. I cannot help you unless you do.”
“Of course I trust you, Royal. With everything, including Tira.”
Well, everything but the whole truth, which made her feel like a vile worm. But complete honesty at this point would only benefit Cringlewood.
He drew back and crossed his arms over his chest. “You certainly have an odd way of showing it.”
That stung. “You
kept your secrets, as I recall. I had to push to get you to share them.”
“And as I recall, share I did.”
She’d walked right into that one.
Better find a way to walk out of it.
“Royal, it’s just that . . .”
“Yes?”
Ainsley could sense him retreating even further, and she hated that. Hated feeling like there were still so many obstacles between them. Maybe it wouldn’t be so awful to tell him part of it. After all, it was a simple statement of fact, and one he’d probably thought about already.
She looked down and began fiddling with her wedding ring. “It’s just that it’s embarrassing to discuss.”
Royal covered her hand with his, stilling her fidgets. “More embarrassing than Angus walking in on us while we were having sex?”
She glanced up with a rueful smile. “We weren’t actually having relations at that precise moment.”
“Close enough.”
“This is a different kind of embarrassing.”
He held her gaze, steadfastly waiting her out. This time it worked.
“It’s the Scottish marriage laws,” she said reluctantly. “They’re quite different from England’s.”
“Yes, everyone knows that, but what does that—” He clamped his mouth shut.
“I know. It’s awful,” she said, taking in his disgusted expression. “I didn’t wish to trouble you with it.”
“They want us to divorce,” he said in a flat tone.
She nodded.
“On what grounds?”
“Divorce on grounds of desertion takes too long, apparently. So, Mother thinks adultery is the most expedient choice.”
Anger sparked in his gaze. “Are they truly mad enough to think I would ever betray you like that?”
She twirled a finger. “It would be the other way around.”
“You’re supposed to betray me?”
“As Mamma so kindly pointed out, under those conditions the process only takes six weeks.” She hated even saying the ugly, hurtful words. “And you would no doubt be so disgusted with me that you would file for divorce without any more prompting.”
“What about the scandal? Do they not realize how it would affect your reputation?”
“I suppose they think the scandal will fade over time,” she said evasively. “My family is rich, after all.”
When he fell silent, Ainsley had to resist the temptation to fidget again.
“And where does Tira enter into this?” he finally asked.
“She doesn’t, at least if Mamma has her way. The Kendricks could keep her, with no one the wiser.”
Ainsley couldn’t bring herself to meet Royal’s gaze. All she could do was stare at their interlaced hands and listen to the thud of her heart.
“Just one more question,” he said.
Ainsley mentally braced herself. She’d already revealed too much. More would surely be fatal.
When she glanced up, her stomach pitched sideways. He looked furious enough to leap onto a horse and ride pell-mell to London to confront her parents in person.
“Yes?” she whispered.
“Does anyone
in your family even know you? Does your mother really think you would divorce me and abandon your daughter? They’re idiots if they think you would ever leave Tira again.”
The sickening twist of tension in her gut started to unspool. While her family might not understand her, Royal did. He always did.
“In all fairness, only Mamma knows about Tira. But, yes, I take your point.”
“And why the hell would you expose yourself to that kind of scandal? I may not be a prime catch on the marriage mart, but my family is respectable and well regarded. Divorce makes no sense at all.”
It made more sense than one would think, when one knew all the particulars.
“Maybe my parents heard about the twins,” she said, trying to make a joke of it.
He simply scowled at her.
Ainsley sighed. “That’s why I didn’t wish to tell you. It’s quite awful.”
“Your whole family is both crazed and
awful.” His expression softened as he studied her. “I understand why you didn’t want to tell me, but I’m glad you did. Thank you.”
The tension unspooled ever more, and she felt like she could breathe again. “You’re welcome. And thank you for understanding.”
He cupped her chin again. “I will always understand, love. Or at least give it my best effort. I promise.”
What had she ever done to deserve him? The guilt was surely going to kill her.
“Thank you,” she managed.
“You’re welcome. But if you had no intention of telling me all this, why did you come to my room in the first place?”
Finally, the perfect opening.
She slipped her hands to his chest, curling her fingers in the soft linen of his shirt. “I came for this, silly man.” Stretching up, she feathered a kiss across his lips. “I came for you.”