Myrtle pinched her husband. “Do not even think about it.” Cassia sent her husband the same dangerous look.
The earl cast an “I-tried-my-best” glance the gentlemen’s ways.
Arran’s father continued, a model drill-master. “The only reason I’m allowing all of you to remain in audience is because you’ll be listening at the keyhole anyway, and hearing things wrong, and making up your own stories, and creating Godknows”—he slashed a hand at the air—“how much. Now, the only ones I want to hear from: you.” Campbell got the point. “You.” Meghan was next. “You.”
Dallin frowned. “Why m—?”
“Being my heir does not give you leave to interrupt my orders, son.”
Dallin’s eyes flared, but he wisely shut his mouth.
“And of course,” the earl’s pinprick stare returned to Arran, “you.”
“Ahem.” The orderly table glanced at the countess. “And what of me, my dear?”
“You were never leaving, my dear.” The earl winked.
Arran’s mother looked like she fell freshly in love with her husband.
Arran’s chest grew strained.
“…I did not love Campbell… It wasn’t love…I…just didn’t realize it until now. Until y—”
“What have you done with Lucy, Arran?”
Hollow inside, he stared vacantly at his father. “I asked her to leave,” he said, his throat uncomfortably thick.
With Fleur no longer a shield between them, Campbell glowered at Arran. “She wasn’t yours to send away, Arran.” Anger tightened the corners of the other man’s mouth.
His gut clenched. Which implied she was Campbell’s, and God, the other man was right. Lucy wasn’t his, but he’d wanted—he wanted her to be. “I know that,” he said hoarsely.
“And why exactly did you do that, lad?” His father persisted with the same gentle authority as when he’d negotiated peace between the boys when Arran broke Campbell’s wood-crafted sword.
Arran dropped his head into his hands and shook his head. This was no child’s impulsive act. It was a grown man’s unforgivable one.
“I—” Don’t know how to tell them.
Not when revealing what he knew would affect how they saw her.
“Go on,” Dallin quietly encouraged Arran. The slight nod he gave indicated he had his full-support.
But did Lucy?
“When Lucy arrived, we took her for Campbell’s betrothed.” Arran paused. He couldn’t.
Askance, Myrtle looked for answers. “She’snot?”
Campbell shook his head in confirmation.
“I don’t understand.” Cassia’s eyes were alight with more than their usual confusion. “She’s a stranger?”
No!A familiar pit formed in Arran’s stomach.
“A stranger?” the earl scoffed. “Not at all. She’s Miss Lucy LeBeau.”
The countess, more tender than her norm with her husband, gently interjected, “I believe what Cassia means, my dear, is that Lucy was a strangerbefore now. Isn’t that right, Cassia?”
Cassia nodded.
