Ainsley had to fight the sudden urge to be sick. “Did she see Tira?”
Victoria gave a grim nod.
“Dammit to hell,” Royal ground out. He took off his hat and handed it to the footman, dismissing him.
As William retreated, he threw Ainsley a worried glance, as if he knew exactly why they were all upset. Had everyone in the blasted household figured out she was Tira’s mother? If so, it was going to make it almost impossible to keep the secret any longer.
“Was Tira awake? Did my mother get a good look at her?”
“Tira was awake, but I’m not sure Lady Aldridge saw very much. Once I realized who she was, I handed Tira over to Kade and bustled them off to the nursery.”
Ainsley pressed her palms over her eyes for a moment, trying to quell her rising panic. “All right. Where is my mother?”
“With Nicholas in the drawing room. I thought it might be a good idea for him to speak with her before you arrived home.”
Royal nodded. “You mean you wanted Nick to intimidate her with his stern Highland laird manner. Not a bad plan.”
“My mother is not easily intimidated, unfortunately.” For her mother to show up like this was a very bad sign. It meant she would try to persuade Ainsley to return to London—or worse.
And if she’d gotten enough of a look at Tira . . .
“I’m so sorry,” Victoria said in an unhappy voice. “If I’d known your mother was coming, I would have taken Tira around to the back of the house.”
“It’s not your fault, Victoria. I had no idea she was coming either. Let me go in and try to find out what she knows.”
“I’ll come with you,” Royal said, starting her toward the drawing room door.
That was a very bad idea, for too many reasons to count. “No,” she said, holding him back. “It’s best if Mamma and I speak alone, at least at first.”
Royal made an impatient sound. “I won’t have her bullying you, or forcing you to do something you don’t want to do.”
She mustered what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “You know by now that no one makes me do something I don’t want to do, not even my mother.”
Or her father, for that matter. But Ainsley was still tremendously grateful that Papa hadn’t come along. He could be incredibly stubborn and tended to yell when frustrated. That would have gone down very poorly with Royal.
“Are you sure, dearest?” Victoria asked. “Nicholas can stay with you, or I can come in, if you like.”
“Thank you, but my mother is no doubt upset and will not appreciate an audience.”
Royal muttered a few curses before escorting her to the door. “All right, but I’m staying right out here. If you need me, just call out.”
“Thank you.” Although she appreciated his protective instincts, Ainsley was terrified of what her mother might say, and even more terrified that Royal would hear it.
You should have told him the truth right away.
Ainsley squashed that panicked thought. The truth wouldn’t change anything, including how she and Royal felt about each other. Or how she felt about Cringlewood.
She squared her shoulders and nodded. Royal opened the door and then stepped back. As she walked by him, he pressed a quick, comforting hand to her shoulder.
His unquestioning support made her wretched with guilt.
Pausing for a moment after closing the door behind her, she worked to settle her tripping heartbeat. Then she adopted her best social smile and crossed the drawing room to join her mother and Lord Arnprior. They were seated opposite each other, the earl cool and imperious in his high-backed wing chair. Mamma looked like she had the fireplace poker up her backside as she perched on the edge of the chaise.
“Ah, Lady Ainsley,” Arnprior said, rising. “Your mother and I have been getting reacquainted while we waited for you.”
Her mother’s expression suggested she’d find a tooth extraction preferable to chatting with the laird—or setting foot in Scotland, for that matter. Her mother loathed the north.
“Thank you, sir.” Ainsley bent to press a kiss to her mother’s cheek. “I’m sorry, Mamma. If I’d known you’d be arriving today, I would not have gone out. Why didn’t you send me a note?”
Her mother allowed the kiss but made no move to touch her or display any sign of affection. “I arrived in the city late last night and did not have time to send a note around.”
Ainsley frowned. “Why didn’t you have your footman deliver a message to Breadie Manor first thing this morning? I didn’t leave the house till after breakfast.”
“I thought it best to go directly there, instead. I was surprised to discover you had already gone for the day.” Her mother flicked a disapproving glance in Arnprior’s direction. “I didn’t realize you were spending so much time at Kendrick House, my dear,” she said, making it sound like Ainsley was carousing in a pub down in the stews. “It is unfortunate that I had to chase after you.”
“We consider Lady Ainsley one of the family, madam,” the earl said in a matching tone of aristocratic hauteur. “She is welcome here anytime, day or night.”
“How kind,” Mamma intoned. “But need I point out—”
“Where are you staying, Mamma?” Ainsley hastily interrupted. “Next time just send a note, and I’ll come there right away.”
Her mother pressed her lips together for an irritated moment. “I am staying with Lady Montgomery.” She glanced at Arnprior. “Her ladyship is Lord Cringlewood’s cousin on his mother’s side. Our families are exceedingly close.”
Damn and blast. They were clearly all lining up against her.
“Oh, that’s convenient,” Ainsley said lamely.
“Lady Ainsley, would you like me to ring for tea?” Arnprior asked in a kind voice.
“I have already declined refreshments, my lord,” Mamma said. “I only wish to speak to my daughter, alone and uninterrupted.”
Ainsley flushed at her mother’s rude behavior.
That’s what you sound like when you’re in a snit, my girl.
She made a silent vow to be much nicer from now on. In fact, she would make all sorts of vows to reform her behavior if it meant she and Tira could escape this latest crisis unscathed.
Arnprior pointedly ignored her mother. “Ainsley, would you like some tea?”
Her mother tsked her disapproval, although it wasn’t clear whether she objected to his patent disregard of her wishes or to his informal use of Ainsley’s name. No doubt both.
Ainsley gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you, sir, but I’ll just speak with my mother. I know luncheon is about to be served, so please go ahead without me.”
“There’s no rush,” he said. “And I’ll be happy to remain, if you prefer it.”
“I would not prefer it,” Mamma said icily.
Ainsley briefly closed her eyes. Her mother was a high stickler, but she generally had distinguished manners. For her to be acting so out of character with an aristocrat meant she was thoroughly knocked off her pins.
The earl patiently waited for Ainsley to answer his question. Despite how awful this day was turning out to be, she felt enormous gratitude for his kindness. It would seem she had another supporter in the household, after all.
She shook her head. “Thank you, sir, but I’ll be fine.”
“As you wish. But I will be close by if you need me.”
“Along with everyone else,” Ainsley said ruefully.
His smile was brief and charming, and then he gave her mother a genial nod. “My lady, I hope to see you again soon.”
“I very much doubt that will be the case.”
Arnprior threw Ainsley an ironic look before departing the room.
“Really, Mamma, did you have to be so awful? Lord Arnprior was simply trying to be polite.”
“I have the headache,” her mother announced in a blighting tone.
Ainsley mentally sighed. Mamma was prone to headaches whenever she was upset, which always made things worse. This one w
as sure to be a whopper.
“I’m sorry you’re not feeling well. Are you sure you don’t want something to drink? Can I fetch you a headache powder?”
“Oh, Ainsley, stop fussing and do sit down. Staring up at you is making it worse.”
“Sorry.” Ainsley took the seat Arnprior had just vacated.
Her mother seemed to finally pull in her horns by managing a strained smile. “As I’m sure you can imagine, the last few days have been exceedingly stressful. You know how I hate traveling.”
She did look a trifle exhausted, but as lovely and elegant as always. Her mother possessed a slim, straight figure, and had black hair with dramatic white streaks at the temples. Like Ainsley, she had a blue-violet gaze that many considered her best feature, contributing to her fame as a great beauty. Those eyes were striking and unmistakable, a characteristic she now shared with her granddaughter.
Please, God. Don’t let her have seen Tira’s eyes.
“Did Papa travel with you?” Ainsley asked.
“No, I brought only Biddle.”
Biddle was Mamma’s longtime dresser and was devoted to her mistress but less than enamored with Ainsley. Biddle made a point of quietly conveying that whenever possible.
“Thank God,” her mother added in a bitter tone when Ainsley didn’t respond. “Your father is quite distraught over this business, so I felt it best he remain in London given his weak heart. I see now that I was right to insist on that.”
Ainsley struggled not to overreact. “It truly wasn’t necessary for you to come all this way, Mamma. You could have just replied to my letter.”
“You would not have listened. I had no choice but to come here to talk you out of making an inexplicably stupid and selfish decision. Before it is too late, I might add. Leonard’s patience will not last forever.”
“I don’t give a hang about Leonard’s bloody patience, Mamma. He raped me. Do you actually understand that?”
Her mother flinched. “I beg you to refrain from using such extreme language. It’s neither appropriate nor accurate.”
“Not when it describes exactly what happened?”
Mamma waved a hand. “It was an unfortunate misunderstanding, and for your sake I’m sorry for that. But there is no cause to exaggerate, nor is it helpful in the present situation.”
“There was no misunderstanding. I’m not going to marry Cringlewood and that’s the end of it.”
When her mother studied her with a narrowed, intent gaze, the hairs lifted on the back of Ainsley’s neck.
“Even though Leonard is the father of your child?” Mamma asked.
“I . . . I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she managed.
“I am not stupid, child. I saw her. That baby looks exactly like you did.”
Ainsley rose and stumbled over to sit beside her mother, grabbing her gloved hand. “You can’t tell anyone, Mamma. You can’t .”
“Of course I cannot tell anyone. It’s too late to even acknowledge her.” Mamma dragged her hand free, as if repelled by her own daughter’s touch. “I should have known when you didn’t put up more of a fight about having to spend the winter with that wretched aunt of yours. I should have known something was wrong.”
Ainsley forced herself to ignore the hurt of her mother’s rejection. Right now, all that mattered was keeping Tira safe. “No one suspects, though? Not Papa, or anyone else?”
“No, thank God. Your father already feels entirely betrayed by your actions. If he knew about this, it would kill him.”
“I’ve done nothing to betray him or anyone else,” Ainsley retorted. “I’m only doing what is right for me and for my daughter. My actions are entirely appropriate under the circumstances.”
Her mother’s mouth twisted with disapproval. “Appropriate? There is nothing appropriate about allowing your fiancé to get you with child and then refusing to marry him. That is the exact opposite of appropriate.”
“I did not allow him to do anything. Cringlewood forced himself on me. He’s a pig.”
“Leonard is a peer of the realm and a distinguished man,” her mother flashed. “Yes, he behaved in a manner unbecoming a gentleman, but that does not entitle you to act like a trollop in return.”
For several moments, Ainsley felt paralyzed. But she finally stiffened her spine and found her voice. “If that’s all you have to say, Mamma, I would ask you to leave now. I refuse to be insulted by you, or anyone else.”
Her mother pressed her fingertips hard to her temples before folding her hands in her lap. “I apologize for that uncharitable remark, Ainsley. My fatigue is getting the better of me, but I am simply trying to understand. How could you have done such a foolish thing, especially after discovering you were with child? You should have made the effort to reconcile with Leonard right away. Yes, it might have been awkward, but he would have no wish to embarrass you. Nor would he desire his child to be born a . . .”
“Bastard.”
“There is no need to be crude, my dear. You know I do not approve of such language.”
“My language is the least of our concerns, Mamma.”
Her mother mustered what she probably thought was an encouraging smile. “You’re right, of course. And I’m sure we can find a solution to this problem, if you will only be sensible.”
“What do you mean by sensible?” she asked, although she already had a fairly good idea.
“You must return to London with me and speak honestly with Leonard. I know he’ll be very sorry to hear how dismayed you were by that unfortunate incident, and he will wish to make amends. I’m sure he’ll be more than willing to start afresh.”
“Oh, that would be big of him.”
“Leonard loves you,” her mother insisted. “He always has.”
“He’s got an awful way of showing it.”
Mamma sat back with a sigh. “I suppose I should have expected you to be like this. It’s my fault, really. Mine and your father’s.”
“What does that mean?” Ainsley said, startled by her mother’s sudden shift.
“I’m afraid we allowed you far too much freedom when it came to decisions about your future. We simply spoiled you, child. It’s no wonder you don’t understand the consequences of your actions.”
“I understand enough to realize I don’t deserve a lifetime of mistreatment at Cringlewood’s hands.”
“That incident was a misunderstanding,” her mother stubbornly repeated. “If you would just talk to him, everything would be fine.”
“You seriously think he would also be fine about Tira?”
Her mother frowned. “What sort of name is that?”
“It’s a fine Scottish name.”
Her mother mulled that over for a few moments before answering. “You obviously cannot acknowledge the child as your own, so it doesn’t matter. Perhaps it’s best at this point not to tell Leonard about her at all. It will cause too many complications for everyone.”
“You can be sure I will not be telling him or anyone else in our family about Tira,” Ainsley said tartly.
Her mother rewarded her with a smile. “Excellent, my love. I’m so glad you’re finally coming to your senses.”
Ainsley had never thought her mother lacked a firm grip on reality until now. Still, for Tira’s sake, she had to make one last effort to get through to her. “Mamma, would you have married Papa if he had hurt you in that way? Because I truly cannot understand why you would wish me to marry a man who thought he was doing nothing wrong in forcing himself on me.”
“Do you truly believe I always desired your father’s marital attentions? There was many a night when I heartily wished the man would find his pleasures elsewhere than in my bed. In fact, I sometimes prayed for exactly that.” She flashed a bitter smile. “My prayers, unfortunately, were rarely answered.”
Ainsley blinked, stunned by that sad, ugly glimpse into her mother’s life. True, her parents had never been particularly affectionate, but Mamma and Papa had always seemed cont
ent with each other, presenting a united front to the rest of the family.
“Then why didn’t you just tell Papa that?” she asked.
Her mother stiffened. “I took vows on my wedding day to honor and obey my husband. That is what a decent and respectful woman does, something you should realize by now.”
Ainsley thought of the solemn promise Royal had made her only this morning—a vow to love and protect her and their daughter above all else. Even at the low tide of their friendship, when they could do nothing but snipe at each other, he’d always tried to protect her, even from herself. And he’d done it not for personal gain, but because he was a good, kind man.
It truly was as simple as that.
“I’m so sorry you had to suffer in that way, Mamma,” she finally said.
Her mother shrugged. “We all have unpleasant burdens to bear, my dear. I am serene in the knowledge that I have always done my duty to your father and to our family. I expect the same from you. Give up this foolishness and come home. Be what you were intended to be—Marchioness of Cringlewood and a great lady.”
Ainsley now realized her mother could never understand. Given what she’d just revealed, Mamma would naturally see her daughter’s defiance as a rejection of all the sacrifices she’d made for her family. Indeed, it would be a rejection of everything she believed in most dearly.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but no,” she said quietly.
“Then you will have betrayed all of us,” Mamma snapped. “And for what? For a penniless younger son from a Scottish family no one cares about?”
“As it happens, I care about the Kendricks a great deal. And it’s ridiculous to dismiss them as nobodies.”
“You will have nothing if you do this, Ainsley. Your father will cut you off without a shilling.” Mamma suddenly gave her a canny look. “Does Mr. Kendrick know that?”
“Of course he does, and he doesn’t care.”
Mamma stared for a few seconds but then pressed a hand to her eyes, suddenly looking quite ill.
“Are you all right?” Ainsley asked, touching her arm.
“Ainsley, the marquess is threatening to bring legal action against you,” she said as she lowered her hand. “For breach of promise of marriage. If he follows through, the scandal will be utterly appalling. God knows what it will do to your father, given the weak state of his heart.”
The Highlander Who Protected Me (Clan Kendrick #1) Page 21