Page 25 of Kilgannon #1

If I had needed any clarification of my feelings, that night showed me where my heart was.

I could no longer pretend. I could not even entertain the idea of marrying Robert.

And that meant I could no longer give him the impression that I would.

How ungrateful I felt. Robert, in the face of London’s condemnation of me, had championed me.

In his own way he was courageous and cared as little for convention as Alex.

I could not belittle his generosity and steadfastness.

But I could not lie to this good man and pretend that I loved him.

It served me right to have had such arrogance to think that I was that important to Robert.

We left the next morning with the other guests. I had been careful not to be alone with Robert, but he seemed not to notice. As he handed me into our coach he smiled and kissed my hand, then said he’d be at Mountgarden within the week and turned to hand Louisa in behind me before I could answer.

Christmas came and went, and the following day Louisa and Randolph left to visit his sister.

Will and Betty and I had three quiet days, then Robert arrived.

I greeted him with trepidation, but my worries were for naught.

Robert, holding my hand in front of the fire in my father’s office, looked deeply into my eyes and told me he’d promised his mother not to ask me to marry him for six months.

I stared at him open-mouthed while Robert blushed and stumbled through an explanation that made it very clear.

His mother, while fond of me and vaguely approving of our marriage, wanted to be sure that any possibility of my carrying Alex’s child was visibly demonstrated to the world.

By June, Robert hinted, we would all know, and then he and I would talk about the future .

I flushed with anger, and Robert took it as shame. “I have never doubted your story, Mary,” he said earnestly. “But this way there will never be any talk of whether …”

“Of whether any child I might bear is yours?” I said coldly.

Robert nodded, clearly unhappy. “As I thought. Thank you, Robert,” I said, extending my hand, “for your honesty. It is very welcome. But I must tell you, for your own knowledge, that there is no possibility of my bearing any man’s child.

No man has been with me, not my attacker, the man in the Campbell plaid” -—he flinched, both at my tone and my words—“nor,” I went on, “Alex MacGannon. He never touched me.”

“Alex said he kissed you,” Robert said with a spark of anger.

“Yes,” I said, and took my hand back. “He did.” I left the room. Robert left Mountgarden soon after that. Will was furious.

January passed slowly. I stayed in Mountgarden despite everyone’s attempts to lure me back to London.

Randolph even came to argue that I should go and beard the lions of chatter in their own dens.

Staying in the country, he said, made it appear that I had something to hide.

I smiled and thanked him but stayed where I was.

And the Duchess came, full of kindness and news of other people.

And of Alex. He’d been in London again, it seemed, and had visited her.

When she’d mentioned me he said he had nothing to say about Mary Lowell.

I resisted her invitation to return to London and thanked her for the news.

She sighed and patted my hand. That night I folded Alex’s half plaid away in the bottom of a trunk.

Robert did not come to see me. He sent flowers from his greenhouse and occasional tidbits from his estate. I sent his mother my thank-you letter for the Yule parties and received a polite, but distant, note in return.

I stayed in the country through February and into March, wrestling with my anger and my hurt and at last coming to terms with the fact that I’d never see Alex again.

No doubt Alex had married Morag by now. I considered joining a convent and determined to never care for another man.

I would never marry Robert. I’d be a doting aunt to Will and Betty’s children. It would have to be enough.

Louisa, the Duchess, and Becca’s mother visited mid-March, saying as Randolph had, that I needed to be seen in society again to reclaim my position there.

“Show them you have nothing to hide,” the Duchess said.

“And we’ll be with you.” I agreed. So back to London I went, back to the endless dinner parties and balls and theater and talk of politics and gossip.

Randolph patted my shoulder and said I was brave.

I didn’t feel very brave, but I was back.

I was received at first with curiosity and open appraisals of my waistline, and then, much sooner than I had imagined possible, was simply one more of the crowd.

The gossips had moved on. And so had time.

An early spring was upon us, mild and wet, and I filled my days so full that I fell asleep as soon as I climbed into bed each night.

But I could not control my dreams. In them I walked through the streets of London with Alex, laughing outside Westminster Abbey, or danced with him in my aunt’s ballroom while her guests smiled at us.

Far more disturbing, I dreamed that I rolled on a bed with a blond man, caught in his arms, feeling my hair slip across my naked shoulders as I leaned down to caress his thigh.

And my nightmares, which had started after the attack and slowly left me, came back with a vengeance.

In them, I was on the floor of a coach and the two men were attacking me. And Alex never came.

As March continued I faced my future. I’d braved London and survived, but it meant nothing to me.

I’d seen Robert at several parties and had been, to his relief, cheerful and welcoming.

But I’d refused to see him otherwise, and Louisa had not invited him to her house.

The Duchess, as considerate as ever, arranged evenings one after the other for me, always consulting me on the guest list. Meg married a man thirty years her senior and I danced with Robert at her wedding, setting tongues wagging again.

And Janice was now engaged to a minor lord in Hampshire.

Everyone’s life was changing except mine.

On the first day of April Robert arrived at Louisa’s house with a bouquet of flowers and an invitation to his house in Kent for Easter week.

And a note from his mother, sweetly written, asking us all to please join them.

I had, it seemed, been deemed still acceptable.

I held Robert’s flowers before me, pretending to smell them, and considered.

What were my choices? No other man had approached me, and Robert was attentive again.

I’d be a fool to send him away. I could stay single and grow old alone, dependent on the charity of my family, or I could have a polite, if passionless, marriage.

I didn’t love Robert and I suspected I never would, but perhaps we could find a way to make some sort of life together.

Certainly his wealth would help. I smiled at Robert and extended my hand. And watched his eyes light up.

Louisa and Randolph, and Will and Betty, had accompanied me to Robert’s estate.

Neither Randolph nor Louisa was especially pleased that Robert was courting me again.

Both still harbored resentment for him and for his mother, but no one would have suspected it when they greeted Robert and his mother at her door like old friends.

Which, I reflected, they were. Will was the one who was icy, thawing only when I reminded him that Robert, for all his faults, was a good man.

Just not the man I wanted. Will pressed his lips together and nodded.

There was more, I knew, that he wanted to say, but he said nothing now.

We stayed the week, keeping busy with riding and games and huge dinners every night.

On the third day I wandered through Robert’s garden with the other guests and paused beside an unexpected display.

Bursting with pink blossoms, one lone rosebush demanded attention and I leaned over it, breathing in its fragrance with delight.

As though he were behind me I heard Alex’s voice say, Mary, ye smell like roses.

I turned, but no tall blond man greeted me, and I shook my head to clear the memory.

Alex was of the past, I told myself, and asked Robert’s guest to repeat what she’d just said.

On the last day of our visit Will and I, with several other guests, were returning from riding when we saw two familiar figures on horseback outside Robert’s main door, a horse with an empty saddle next to them. Angus and Matthew, visibly angry, watched us.

“It’s Kilgannon’s cousins,” Will said.

“Where is Alex?” I asked, as though he might know. Will shrugged and we rode forward to meet them. The Scots were tight-lipped and pale. Angus responded when I greeted them. “Angus, where’s Alex?” I asked, my horse dancing away from his. “Why are you here?”

Angus’s tone was cool. “Yer Campbell willna admit us. He says ye dinna wish to speak to Alex.”

“That’s absurd! I did not even know he was here!”

“We sent a message to ye yesterday that we were arriving today. Matthew brought it.”

I looked from Angus to Matthew. “Who did you give it to?”

“The butler, Mary,” said Matthew, obviously unhappy.

“I never received it. I will discover what happened.” I looked from one to the other of them. “But where is Alex?”

Angus gave me a tight smile. “Alex climbed the garden wall.”

“He climbed the wall? He’s in the garden?”

“Or somewhere. He said he’d look until he found you.

” I didn’t wait for more. I threw myself from the horse and ran for the door.

“Mary,” Angus called after me, and I turned.

“Be careful, lass, Alex is verra angry.” I stopped and faced Angus.

The rest of our riding party were reaching the Scots and watching us. Will was dismounting.