“I am not alone. I have you and Aunt Caroline, and I know that both of you love me.”
“That is nae what I meant and ye ken that well enough. If ye cared for the lad enough tae allow him tae kiss ye, then I ken that ye care for him verra much indeed. Ye would nae let him come anywhere near ye if ye did nae hold him in high affection.”
Cleo frowned at the cook from across her bowl of pottage. “Be that as it may, it does not change the facts, or how I feel on the matter. I will not be changing my mind. I have written Arthur a letter asking his forgiveness for my behavior and asking that we remain friends.”
“And ye think he will be contented with that?”
“The Earl of Dustshore has agreed to such an arrangement without complaint. I see no reason why Arthur cannot do the same.”
“Oh, ye dinnae, do ye?” Mrs. McGrath shook her head. “If ye believe that the Earl o’ Dustshore is without ulterior motive in winning yer affections, then ye are nae as intelligent as I believed ye tae be.”
Cleo’s frown turned into a glare of disapproval. “How can you speak such?”
“I can speak o’ such things because I was nae born in tae this world just this verra morning. I have been around long enough tae ken when a lad has designs upon a lass, and I am here tae tell ye that those lads both have more than friendship in mind for ye. They will nae settle for anything less than yer hand in marriage if I have my guess, and I am seldom wrong in such matters.”
“How did this happen? How did I go from not knowing a single nobleman to having two of them vying for my hand if you and Aunt Caroline are as right as you think you are?”
“Aye, in this we are both right and ye ken it whether ye wish tae admit it or nae.”
Cleo shook her head in disgust with herself, with her situation, and with the world at large. “I will hear no more of this. It has been a long ride from London to Oxfordshire and I need to rest. I have no notion as to what I am going to do next in the search for Father’s killer, but if I am going to get through this I am going to need to sleep.”
“Aye, lass, I can see that.” Mrs. McGrath’s raised brow hinting that Cleo’s attitude was less than desirable.
“I am sorry for my foul mood. It is not you that I am upset with. Please forgive me?”
“Aye, lamb, always.”
Cleo arose and kissed Mrs. McGrath on the forehead, then climbed the stairs to her room. She was not certain why the mention of the earls, especially Arthur, had made her so instantly cross, but she admonished herself to put a stop to it immediately. To speak to Mrs. McGrath in such a fashion was unacceptable. Crawling beneath the covers, Cleo prayed to God for strength and forgiveness. It was the first time that she had prayed since her father’s death and it had been brought on by habit in reaction to her own guilt.
Rolling onto her side, Cleo pulled the covers up over her ears and closed her eyes. Her thoughts immediately turned to Arthur MacDonald and how she had not received a reply to her letter asking for his forgiveness. She hoped that he would forgive her for her treatment of him and that he would accept her offer of friendship. She did not wish to face the search for her father’s killer alone and Arthur had been her only ally other than Mrs. McGrath.
Please come and speak with me, Arthur. I need you. As much as I hate to admit needing anyone, I truly do need you to get through this.
Chapter 18
Arthur MacDonald had returned to his London townhouse upon leaving the Dustshore’s dinner party. He had been unable to ascertain anything of note to aid in the search for Henry’s killer, but he had seen a gentling of attitude toward him from Cleo, and that had made the evening worth it. It was clear from the way that Dustshore treated her, that he intended to court the lass.
Arthur, having been rejected by Cleo after sharing such a passionate kiss that had nearly consumed him with the fire of it, had not wished to remain in London and watch Dustshore’s attempts at conquest. Come the morning, he had packed his bags and left the city. When he returned to Oxfordshire, instead of staying with Jacob as he usually would have, he rode on to his own estate, camping in the woods when night fell and continued on in the morning.
By the time that he reached home, he was past ready for life to return to its normal rhythms, but he knew that such could not be so until poor Henry’s soul had been avenged. The thought of Henry brought pain to his chest and he paused in his stride to catch his breath. In the matter of less than a month, he had lost his dearest friend in all the world, fallen in love with his friend’s daughter, and had his heart broken by her in short order. He had not experienced such an emotional upheaval since his grandfaither had died, leaving him the earldom, and seldom ever before that.
That is what ye get for falling in love with a lass that does nae love ye back. I kenned better and yet I allowed my emotions tae get the better o’ me anyway. Even so, I cannae say that I regret the kiss. I will ne’er regret that kiss.
Arthur resumed walking and entered the house. He was greeted by his butler who began doting on him excessively immediately upon having taken in his disheveled state. “Forgive me, My Lord, but you look as if you have been sleeping upon the ground.”
“That is because I have been.”
“My Lord?”
“Dinnae fash, Mr. Dacre. All will be well with a wee bath and a bit o’ supper. Aye?”
“Of course, My Lord. I will see to it right away. Your valet awaits you in your bedchamber ready to see that you are properly cared for. I will have one of the footmen to bring you up a tray and instruct the household to remain silent so that you might rest in relative peace.”
“I thank ye, Mr. Dacre.” Turning from his butler, Arthur climbed the stairs to his bedchamber and found his valet awaiting him just as Dacre had predicted.
“It is good to have you home, My Lord.”
“Thank ye, Travers. it is good tae be home.”
