She stiffened, her mind going to the worst. “What are you saying?”
Pippa could not imagine anything he could want from her. It had been made more than apparent to her, as a guest at his townhome and now as his wife settled in at Wylde Park, that Roland was not lacking in funds. She suspected quite the opposite, in fact. Merely more of George’s lies being revealed.
However, what reason could the Duke of Northwich possibly have for wanting to marry the woman who had jilted him? Who had believed the worst of him?
“Iwantedto marry you, Pippa.” He was solemn as he regarded her, his fingers tightening on hers. “It would be dishonest of me to suggest otherwise for the sake of my already tattered pride. I have always wanted to marry you, from the moment you charmed me at my Auntie Mil’s house party five years ago, on. Even when you belonged to another, I never stopped wanting you.”
Tears stung her eyes. She had to blink to force them from blurring her vision, to keep them from slipping down her cheeks. “Roland.”
It was all she could manage. His name. Her heart was aching at the intensity in his gaze, the open, rawness of his expression. Because she had wanted to marry him, too. Until…
George’s lies.
And the distance between them.
When they had parted in Oxfordshire, he had been soon off to New York, to visit his aunt with his mother.
“I am sorry.” She owed him much more than an apology. She had been so foolish and young. And she had chosen the wrong man. She had hurt Roland with her decision, with her actions. Unwittingly, she had placed herself, and later her daughter, at the mercy of a dangerous man, who had also connected himself with other dangerous people.
“Why?” Roland drew her against him, then settled his hands on her waist much as he had done last night. “Please tell me you are not apologizing for what happened yesterday.”
For what happened. Such a vague and clever way to refer to what had been so profound and changing.
She shook her head. “No. Although I shall if you wish it of me.”
“Never.” His grip on her waist tightened, and he lowered his forehead to hers.
The gesture felt more intimate than a kiss. Their breaths merged, lips separated by scarcely any distance, their eyes meeting and holding.
“Thank heavens.” She struggled to find the words to lend proper meaning to all the emotions within her. “I wanted to marry you as well, you know. My heart was set upon it.”
Following that country house party, she had returned to her family’s estate in Suffolk, where her brother and his wife had set up their nursery. And George had been a sudden, unexpected guest there. Now, she wondered what mischief he must have made to force the invitation.
Her brother had claimed George a trusted acquaintance.
He had clearly lied.
What leverage had George had over Worthington? She needed to know. And how strange to think—all this distance and time between them. Worthington likely had no notion she had remarried, and certainly not that she had faced any trouble.
“We need not speak of it,” Roland said, lifting his head, his hands gliding over the small of her back in slow, comforting circles. “We are beginning a new chapter in our lives. The past cannot haunt us any longer.”
How she wished that were true.
“It can,” she said, thinking of whomever had attacked her. “We have come to Yorkshire, but what will happen when we return to London? What shall become of us if Scotland Yard cannot discover who aided George in his nefarious schemes? If they never find the answers we seek, what if we are forever forced to live with this black cloud hanging over us? Have you considered that?”
She was sure he had not.
What man would want to take on the terrible, daunting weight that George had left behind for her? It was dangerous. Terrible. Likely Roland had not considered the full ramifications of his actions. Five years ago, she would not have come to him with so much anguish and danger, with the memories of all the lies she had believed to haunt her. Five years ago, she would have been innocent and naïve, capable of loving and believing in love and the goodness of those around her.
Now?
Heavens!She hated to think too hard, for fear of what unwanted conclusions those ruminations would bring.
“Regardless of what comes to pass, Pippa,” he said, his expression solemn, his voice low and deep and reassuring, “I want you to know that you can trust me. You can rely upon me. I have great faith in Chief Inspector Stone. He will bring these miscreants to justice. And until he does, I will make certain you and Char-char may live your lives without fear.”
Char-char.
Was it wrong of her to love the way he had taken on her daughter’s self-proclaimed sobriquet? If so, she was not certain she cared. A new sensation rose, firm and strong and unrelenting within her. She did not dare name or claim it yet.
