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Impatient, he wandered toward the parapet where she and Allie had been standing for some time, but it appeared he’d missed them.

He needed to speak to his wife. She had seen the look of doubt cross his face, he knew it, and while he could not deny that he’d entertained a moment of doubt, the moment had passed just as quickly. Gillian would not have betrayed him. Although Allie’s arrival came as a surprise, Gillian was worried about her, and he was pleased she’d come to Highgate. Whatever the explanation, he would have it in good time.

Opening the door to his room, he greeted Morgan, who appeared to be lacing the back of his wife’s gown, relief for having found her washing over him.

“I will finish,” he said. Morgan curtsied and scurried from the room.

He took the laces in his hand, explaining before she could even address him.

“Forgive me if I believed the worst for the briefest of moments, Gillian. I know you wouldn’t betray me.”

She didn’t turn, but his declaration must have caught her by surprise. Turning just enough for him to see her profile, she said, “You do not trust me.”

“Despite so much that has passed between us, lass, I’ve known you less than one month. But even so, I do trust you. I know you would not purposefully lie to me.”

And surprisingly, it was true. Gillian was not the type of woman to lie.

If he could only show her how he felt . . . he would lean down, move her hair aside, and kiss her neck. Of course, he’d not stop there.

“Covington is dead,” she said.

Finished, Graeme dropped his hands, which he hadn’t consciously raised, not quite sure what to do with them now. “Dead?”

“Aye. An accident apparently, he rode his horse over a cliff.”

Graeme walked toward the chair closest to him. Standing so close to his wife, knowing he wasn’t to touch her, physically pained him.

“Good.”

Gillian’s jaw dropped. “A man is dead—”

“A despicable man.”

Gillian frowned, two adorable lines appearing at the creases of her mouth. And what a mouth it was. God, if he could not—

“Graeme? Are you listening?”

Indeed, he had not been. “Nay.”

That did not appear to be the right answer.

“I could have lied and said aye,” he said. “But just as I know you are truthful to me, I promise to always be honest with you. So nay, I was not listening. I would apologize, but the thoughts I was having about your mouth—”

Gillian’s frown deepened. “This is serious,” she chided.

“As is my need to feel your lips beneath my own. To coax them open, make love to your—”

“Graeme!”

He was making it worse. Graeme extended and crossed his legs, hoping the activity would help focus his thoughts. “Covington is dead. And Allie no longer betrothed, I assume?”

For a moment, he thought she would punish him by keeping the remainder of the details to herself. But she finally relented.

“She is not. And of course, my father is devastated. They will lose everything, Graeme.”

He’d have said, “As he deserves,” but he held his tongue.

“I am sorry, lass. But you’ve done everything you could to prevent it.” And then something occurred to him. “What was Allie’s plan then?”