It was getting harder for Bray not to show any emotion. She was deliberately accusing him of withholding something from little girls. She might as well have put a knife in his back.
“I might very well be a monster, a beast, or a monstrous beast, Miss Prim, but I don’t steal dogs and keep them from children.”
“But you did.”
“I didn’t know I was,” he said again, bringing his face even nearer—so close to hers, their noses almost touched. He didn’t know how he was managing to keep his voice so low.
“How could you have not known?”
Bray didn’t mind being blamed for anything he’d ever done that was wrong. Everyone knew there had been plenty over the years, and he’d readily own up to any of it. But he didn’t like being accused of something he didn’t do. If Lord Wayebury or anyone had asked him about the dog, he would gladly have turned him over to the sisters.
Miss Prim’s sparkling blue eyes searched his with intensity. “You mean you really didn’t think we might want Nathan’s dog?”
No, I didn’t. It never crossed my mind. I would have been happy to send him to you.
Bray watched tears gather in her eyes. Her anger had melted into pain. This had wounded her deeply. He was surprised at how quickly her anger had turned to sorrow. His heart constricted, and he fought to keep his emotions under control.
She was the most infuriating young lady he had ever met, and those girls could screech to the high heavens, but he wouldn’t deliberately cause any of them pain.
What could he say? That he wasn’t used to thinking about siblings or dogs? Hell, he wasn’t used to thinking about anyone but himself. He glanced at the loud merriment as the girls and Saint renewed their friendship. Blast it all, he could see how the girls loved the dog, and Saint was overjoyed at their reunion, too.
“How the hell was I to have known?”
She gasped.
“‘Hell’ is a biblical word, Miss Prim and Proper,” he said quickly, “and I won’t apologize for using it in front of you. Lord Wayebury asked me to take care of the spaniel, just as he asked me to marry you.”
Her intake of breath was more like a gulp. “So, Saint has been a chore to you. Just as your word to my brother to marry me was a chore that you have ignored all these years.”
“Two years.” Bray gritted his teeth. This miss didn’t know when to stop. “You, I ignored, but I took care of the dog.”
“Sister, look, it’s Saint,” Miss Bonnie said, heading their way, clutching the dog, who was really too heavy and too big for her to carry in her arms.
Miss Prim spun away from him and lovingly rubbed her hand down her sister’s warm blond curls. “Yes, I see.”
“Can we keep him? Can we take him home?” Miss Bonnie asked hopefully as the other sisters crowded behind her.
“I can help take care of him,” Miss Lillian offered.
“I’ll walk him in the mornings,” Miss Sybil said.
“I guess that means I will take him for a stroll in the afternoons,” Miss Gwen added.
Bray’s throat felt thick, and damn, but he hated the emotion that had caused it. He wished he’d thought to send them the dog.
“Girls,” Miss Prim said, “he now belongs to—”
“You,” Bray interrupted her. “Of course he’s yours. Take him. He’s been waiting for you. It’s about time you came to London to get him.”
The girls’ peals of laughter and screeching split the air again. Saint barked. Bonnie thrust the spaniel into Louisa’s hands and then swung around and threw her arms around Bray’s waist. He flinched and then cringed inwardly because he knew Miss Prim had seen him flinch. He held his hands and arms out to his side. The little girl’s hug was so unexpected, he froze.
Bray had never felt such small, gentle arms around him before. They were squeezing him with earnestness, but he had no idea what to do. Miss Bonnie placed her warm cheek against his midriff. Suddenly he felt as if she were squeezing his heart, too. Warm, compassionate feelings rose up in him, and he didn’t know what to do about them. He fought the desire to hug Bonnie close and tell her he’d never meant to hurt them, but years of training kept him from acting on the gut-wrenching feelings, and he didn’t touch the child.
If their uncle had truly been looking for the dog, asking about his whereabouts, he would have known Bray had Saint. There were more than a dozen men with them the night of the accident, and it was talked about in all the clubs and written about for months. Hell, it was still talked about. There was no way Lord Wayebury couldn’t have found out where Saint was if he’d tried.
The viscount must simply have lied to the Prim sisters.
Bray didn’t like that.
