She wanted to look away from the intense focus of his eyes, but she couldn’t. “If he keeps going as he is, he’ll have no one’s respect, including his own. And I am ... at a loss.” She broke a piece of bread apart in her hands but couldn’t bring herself to eat it.
Lord Blackthorne leaned closer and lowered his voice. “It costs you much to say that. You are not a woman who easily admits defeat.”
“I never have to,” she said with indignation.
To her surprise, he lightly touched her ungloved hand with his own. “I like that you are a decisive woman, that you don’t wait for things to happen but take charge.”
She could read nothing in his face, not even this “admiration” he professed. He continued to touch her unexpectedly, and it troubled her that he knew how it would affect her. “Most men would not prefer such a woman.”
“Which is why you turned down so many proposals.”
She shook her head. “You think you know me, my lord, but that is only part of it. There are not many men who want a woman to so actively involve herself in her family estates.”
“Which is why we suit,” he said. “I need a woman who’s not afraid of doing things on her own. A wife cannot always be at a soldier’s side.”
“And there’s where we don’t suit. I never promised to be at your side, especially overseas.”
He studied her. “I know. Once I met you, I thought I might change your mind.”
Now it was her turn to lean toward him. “That will never happen, my lord. Understand that.”
He didn’t answer, and she now knew she had another reason for ending this marriage. She was never returning to India, to the place where her family had fallen apart.
The serving maid arrived with their next course of food, and Cecilia noticed that the young woman’s cap was askew and her sleeve torn.
“Is something wrong?” Cecilia asked.
The girl met her eyes with her own full of tears. “I’m sorry, milady. I ... displeased a gentleman. ’Twas me own fault.”
Cecilia didn’t recognize this girl, but a pang of foreboding chilled her. “What happened?” she demanded in a quiet but insistent voice. “I’d like to help.”
“Oh no, milady, you mustn’t,” the girl cried.
The door opened, and Oliver walked in. Cecilia’s stomach seemed to rise into her throat as she prepared herself to handle a terrible confrontation, but the girl actually relaxed when she saw it was Oliver. Cecilia felt Lord Blackthorne watching her, knew that he’d been thinking everything she had. But they were both wrong—of course they were. But she couldn’t stop feeling terribly ill that she’d believed the worst of Oliver. The maid finished refilling their glasses with a trembling hand, then bobbed a curtsy and left.
“Something dreadful happened,” Cecilia said to Oliver.
Her brother drained his glass of wine and refilled it himself. “Rowlandson is still down from London, and his night of drinking isn’t over yet.”
“But it’s the middle of the afternoon!” she cried, looking to Lord Blackthorne as if one of the males in the room had to make sense.
Her husband was studying Oliver, absorbing everything without interfering. “What did that maid have to do with it?” he asked in a voice that portrayed indifference.
But she didn’t believe it. He’d taken on Oliver as his project, and from her father’s letters, she knew that Lord Blackthorne never backed down from a challenge.
Shewas his challenge, too.
Oliver shrugged. “Rowlandson tried for some enjoyment with the maid. She didn’t take kindly to it.”
“Like your sister didn’t take kindly to Fenton?” Lord Blackthorne demanded. “What kind of friends do you have?”
Oliver narrowed his eyes. “My friends are none of your concern, Blackthorne. Remember that you are only in my home because I allow it. Do not cross me.”
She was about to dress down her brother when she felt her husband grip her knee, hard enough to make her round on him. But he wasn’t looking at her, only at her brother. He didn’t want her interference, but Oliver was her responsibility.
“I am not crossing you, Appertan,” her husband said. “But it is my right to keep Cecilia safe, especially after what Fenton did.”
“Rowlandson would never do that,” Oliver said dismissively. “He’s down on his luck and wanted a little fun. When the girl refused, he backed off.”
