“Don’t ask. There have been times, especially when we first met, when I’d have been happy to see the back of him forever. But we always worked it out.”
“But you never suspected he was cheating on you.”
“Nay, never that. I know the man well enough to feel certain that hasn’t happened.”
“I thought I was coming to know Trick, too.”
No wonder Eros, the God of Love, was often portrayed wearing a blindfold. Love was truly blind.
“There could be another explanation, Kendra. Although I remember a time you wouldn’t have cared if he cheated.” Cait sipped from her cup of wine, regarding her over the rim. “Things have been getting better for you, then?”
“Things?”
“You know…in the bedchamber.” Kendra felt her face heat, and Caithren laughed. “I can see that they have.”
She couldn’t stand to think about that now, let alone talk about it—not when she wondered if she’d ever feel that close to Trick again. “How was your visit home?” she asked Cait instead. “Is Cameron doing well? And Clarice and little Mary?”
Cait grinned. “Clarice is with child, too. And Cameron walks around all day with a smile on his face.”
“I can imagine.” Would she ever have children now? It was clear enough Trick would never commit to the sort of marriage she’d dreamed of all her life, but could she learn to live with less? Could she accept only that part of him he was capable of giving? “I’m so happy for them—”
A knock on the door interrupted, and Cait went to answer.
“Are you finished, my lady?” Soft-spoken, her maid entered and began gathering dishes. She refilled their cups with the dregs of a bottle of wine, then smiled, revealing small, child-like teeth. “Would you like another bottle now, milady? I can ask John to fetch one from the cellars.” John Foster was one of Cainewood’s footmen and Dulcie’s latestamour.
“Thank you, that would be nice.” Cait set a decimated tart on the tray. “How is Foster today, Dulcie?”
“Oh, fine, milady. He’s had a half-day off and been into the village to visit with his mother. Would you know, he came back with interesting news.”
Kendra drained her cup. She hoped this Foster fellow would fetch a new bottle soon. She needed more wine if she was going to decide whether to give up on the love of her life. “What news is that?”
“Word has it that the Black Highwayman has been caught and arrested at last. Hauled off to London this very day to be tried.”
“Tried?” Kendra’s cup clunked to the marble-topped dressing table. “When will he be tried?”
Dulcie’s gray eyes filled with confusion. “Monday, your grace. Say…are you all right?”
Seventy-Six
KENDRA WOKE INher old bed at Cainewood with two of her brothers hanging over her. She blinked at the mint-green canopy above their heads, wondering how she’d come to be here.
Had she fainted? She’d never fainted before in her life. Trick would pay for this.
Then she remembered, and an aching hollowness opened in her heart.
Trick wouldn’t pay for this. Trick would be dead.
She struggled to sit, glancing around to make sure no one but family was in the chamber. “Did you hear?” she asked, her vow of silence forgotten.
Her brothers, after all, were not the villains in this tragedy, no matter how much she wanted to blame them. She needed them, and they were here for her, as they’d always been.
“Aye, they’ve heard,” Cait said softly. “I told them.”
Kendra’s stomach felt leaden, and tears threatened to leak from her eyes. “How can this have happened now?” One tear did leak, running hot down her cheek. “He promised he was finished playing that game.”
Though Jason’s eyes were compassionate, his mouth was set in a grim line. “I warned him.”
“He must have gone out and done it anyway. Stubborn fool.” And more fool she, for believing him when he said he’d stop. She sat and swung her feet off the bed. “I must go to him.”
