Was Xenia attracted to Canning’s steady temperament? She’d described Ethan as “grumpy” and “brooding,” and Canning was neither of those things. Maybe she wanted a fellow who didn’t have moods. Who had full functioning use of his body. Maybe she’d only been settling for Ethan until someone better came along. Maybe that was the real reason she refused to commit to a permanent relationship.
“Speaking of jaded…I hesitate to bring this up, but Blake is in the neighborhood.”
That got Ethan’s attention. “How do you know that?”
“When I paid a visit to Chudleigh Crest today, I bumped into him and his, ahem, new wife.” Parkhurst’s face turned ruddy. “Apparently they’ve taken up residence at a cottage not far from here, waiting for the scandal to die down.”
The hairs tingled on Ethan’s nape. “Do you know when they arrived?”
“They’ve been here a fortnight, I think.”
While Ethan didn’t think Blake was responsible for the Bloody Thom hoax, he couldn’t rule out his former friend, especially now that he knew Blake had been in close proximity.
“Did Blake say anything?” he demanded.
“He wanted to know how you are faring.” Parkhurst had the look of a reluctant messenger. “He said he wanted to…to apologize. For everything.”
“It’s too bloody late for that.”
Fuming at Blake’s audacity, Ethan glanced over at Xenia…and his breath jammed in his throat. Canning wastouchingher, his hand gliding against her cheek. Even from a distance, Ethan could see that she was blushing.
Bloody fucking hell.
His vision turned scarlet, a rush sounding in his ears. He was beside Xenia in the next instant. Planting his hand on Canning’s shoulder, he gave the other a shove.
Canning stumbled back and lost his balance, toppling onto his arse.
Xenia gasped. Gigi stopped mid-passage.
Ethan’s roar shattered the sudden hush.
“Get your hands off her, you bastard. She’smine.”
ChapterTwenty-Seven
“Ilooked everywhere for you,” Xenia said softly.
Although Ethan heard her enter the stall, he didn’t turn at her approach. He was in his shirtsleeves, his coat and cravat tossed over a nearby bale of hay. His hair was damp from the dunking he’d given himself in the trough to sober up. He continued to brush Legato, who gave Xenia a nicker of welcome.
“You’ve found me,” he said tonelessly.
“Everyone was worried?—”
“They needn’t have been.” Self-derision sharpened his words. “By now, they ought to be used to me acting like a lunatic.”
“No one thinks you are a lunatic. Just that you overindulged with the whisky.”
It was a ready excuse, but he felt like a coward taking it. He knew it hadn’t just been the drink. What he didn’t know was if he wanted to share the truth. As far as he was concerned, there’d been enough humiliation for the evening. Trapped between bad options, he chose to remain silent, moving the bristles through Legato’s shining coat.
“You weren’t actually jealous, were you?” she blurted.
One of the things he liked about Xenia was her directness. When it came to their interactions, she called a spade a spade. She would never tread on eggshells around him because of his infirmity or anything else. It was relieving, even though it put him on the spot. If he admitted to jealousy, he would have to provide context and disclose facts about his relationship with Constance that, frankly, he would rather not.
“Mr. Canning wasn’t flirting with me,” Xenia went on. “I ate one of the cakes and got icing on my face. Out of courtesy, he tried to remove it for me. That was what you saw.”
The explanation made Ethan sink lower in his own esteem.
“I acted like an idiot,” he said with disgust. “Let’s leave it at that.”
