Victorine was visibly shaken. Her hands twisted in her lap. “Dear God! Was he serious?”
Nick’s laugh held no amusement. “Quite.”
Victorine drew in a breath and let it out gently. “Forgive me. It’s such a shock to think of Kenna marrying. And to Rhys Canning of all people.”
“I said he had made an offer, Victorine. I did not say she had accepted it.”
“Then he’s not broached the subject to Kenna?”
Nick took another swallow of scotch and set down the tumbler sharply. “No. He hasn’t. He wants me to speak to her.”
“You? But why?”
“To force her hand. He wants Kenna to have no choice but to accept his proposal.”
“You can’t do that, Nick. She would never forgive you. You know she holds Rhys in abhorrence.”
“I know it,” Nick said heavily. “And Rhys knows it as well, else he would have asked for her hand himself.”
“What prompted him to make the offer now?” Her smooth forehead wrinkled suddenly. “Does he love her, Nick? I mean, truly love her?”
“He loves her, of course. But the way you mean, I don’t know. It never came up and I didn’t ask. He wants to protect her, Victorine. You can understand that, surely. He knows no other way.”
“But to sacrifice himself, his own future with the woman of his choice, to protect Kenna. There must be another way. He has not considered the consequences.”
“When I said as much to him he nearly reached for my throat. I believe he has considered the matter as thoroughly as he wishes to.”
“What did you tell him? Will you speak to Kenna?”
Nick shut his eyes and rubbed his temples in a weary gesture. “I told him I wouldn’t interfere. Kenna has the right to make her own decisions. It’s the way she was raised. That’s when he slammed out of here. I don’t know what I’ll tell him when he returns.”
“But Kenna must be allowed to make up her own mind,” Victorine said earnestly, leaning forward in her chair. “Oh, there was a time when I thought she should marry, but she seems to be content now. She never cared about the things other young women do. Do you remember how she begged us not to put her through a London Season? She said she had no stomach for the marriage mart or marriage. Nick, I know I’ve not spoken of this to you before, but I fear Kenna is not as other women.”
“What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?” Nick asked, lifting his lids and glaring at his stepmother with eyes as cold as blue ice.
“No, no! You must have misunderstood,” she said quickly. “I can see in your face that you have mistaken my meaning. I think she would not suit in the marriage bed. I think she would make Rhys, make any man, a cold wife. She has no understanding of passion nor the least inkling of what would be expected of her. Her husband would never be faithful. Heaven knows, it takes little enough provocation these days for men to seek out a mistress. Do Kenna a kindness and spare her certain humiliation.”
“Let me think on it, Victorine. There is much here to consider. I don’t want my sister humiliated but neither do I wish to see her dead.”
“I never thought you did,” Victorine said with dignity. “And neither do I.” She came to her feet with a certain regal air. “I love Kenna. As much as I do my own daughter, perhaps more, because Yvonne never needed me the way Kenna does. It’s important to feel needed, Nicholas.”
“Victorine.” Nick drew out her name warningly and saw by the flash of pain in her eyes that she understood. “Not now. Leave me and let me think. I will let you know later what I’ve decided.”
Victorine gave Nick a small nod of assent and left him to his own troubled thoughts.
Kenna leaned against the gallery door, catching her breath, as she heard the soft fall of Victorine’s steps along the hallway.
“Lady Kenna?”
Kenna jumped away from the door, suddenly realizing she wasn’t alone in the room. One of the young downstairs maids was running a feather duster over the gilt edges of the gallery’s paintings.
“Are you all right, Lady Kenna?” the girl asked again. “Faith, it looks as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I’m fine.” She groped her memory for a name to put with the dark hair and heart shaped face of the maid. “Jean is it?”
Jean smiled widely. Not many ladies would have bothered to take note of her name and address her by it. “Yes, m’lady, it’s Jean. Will you be wanting anything? A cup of tea? A tisane? Please pardon my impertinence, but you don’t look well, m’lady.”
Kenna touched her brow and felt tiny droplets of perspiration at her hairline. She must look a veritable fright to the girl. “No, really, there’s no need for anything. I’d like to be alone right now. Can you finish your work later?”
