have this discussion with Stone while they were alone and suddenly that smidgeon of guilt grew to mountainous proportions.
“Of course, I had to pay him off.” Using some of her dowry. She didn’t care about any of that and had the sudden urge to cover both her ears and cry.
“I’m sorry.” This apology was to both of them—for everything.
She could have lost so much more. Thank God she’d come to her senses.
“What do you mean, she remembered?” Her brother turned to frown at Stone.
It was Stone’s turn to ignore a question. “Culpepper’s returning to London? You trust him to honor his word?”
“About as far as I can throw him. But I do trust that Blackheart will make sure the duke proves trustworthy regardless. Culpepper’s also promised to put a stop to any gossip by his servants. Although, one can never count on that.”
“So, he isn’t coming after us—after me.” Tabetha bit her lip. She was not going to be a duchess. Ever. That empty feeling returned and settled on her like a great burden.
Archie chose that moment to sit up straight and glower at the new arrival.
“Culpepper told me the two of you left Gretna ahead of him. And since I knew this couldn’t have been the case, I figured something was up. When we parted ways, he headed south. I’m not sure if he was more upset about the loss of a potential wife or the loss of his cat.”
Stone’s gaze had locked on her again, filled with questions and also a few accusations. “When?” he demanded.
“When what?” Westerley glanced between the two of them. “Good God, Tabetha, what’s happened to your hair? And you’ve dirt on your cheek. Is that soot? You look like a ten-year-old hoyden.”
Tabetha stared back at Stone, ignoring her brother’s unkind assessment of her appearance. “Last night.” She couldn’t very well admit her memory had crashed through like a thunderstorm while they’d been making love—while he’d been moving in and out of her. Nor could she admit that she didn’t want to go back to who she’d been before. Not completely, anyway. And not with her brother glancing back and forth between the two of them.
“You didn’t think to share that with me?”
“You lied to me first.”
“I don’t know what the two of you are going on about, but I’d prefer to discuss it over a hot meal and a pint of ale rather than argue in this heat.” Westerley rubbed the back of his neck. “Ramstail Quarry is just a few miles back. My traveling coaches as well as the rest of my entourage will be putting up there.”
“I agree. Which reminds me… I left Creighton there, at the Pig and Hen. He injured his foot and your er… baby required a repair.”
“I saw that.” Her brother scowled.
Stone was no longer looking at Tabetha, and she remembered all the other times she’d been ignored by her brother and his friends. Obviously, Westerley’s prized curricle was more important than their future.
“If you wouldn’t mind driving my sister a few more miles, I’ll take her off your hands for the remainder of the journey. I have two carriages following.” Westerley turned to Tabetha. “Charley and Bethany insisted on coming along. And Chase of course. Mother sent Emily as well. Two married ladies and your maid ought to provide the requisite decorum to salvage your reputation.”
“Bethany is here?” Bethany would know what she should do.
Westerley nodded. “And Mother’s told her friends you are visiting Aunt Edith. That she had fallen ill, and you’d volunteered to nurse her back to health.”
They had it all figured out. “A hasty recovery then,” Tabetha blurted out sarcastically.
His response was to pin a disapproving gaze on her. She’d drawn that look on several occasions since he’d become her guardian. “Lady Felicity knows. She guessed when I showed up at her father’s house looking for you.” He went right on as though she’d not spoken a word. “Aside from her, however, I believe we can keep this little excursion from the gossips. Which will be important if you’re still in search of a husband.”
Her brother was already remounting his horse at the same time Stone climbed onto their vehicle. Before now, he would have all but lifted her into the gig. This time, he didn’t so much as offer her a hand.
She would not cry. She was not a child.
After a few failed attempts, she managed to get herself settled onto the bench, which had been a place of considerable contentment up