Lady Guinevere and the Rogue with a Brogue - Julie Johnstone Page 0,111
Asher.
“Habit from years with no servants,” Asher supplied as he stared at Beckford and Kilgore on his threshold.
“I was just coming to see ye,” Asher said to Beckford. Then to Kilgore, he said, “What are ye doing here?”
“He insisted,” Beckford said with a shrug.
“I am striving to atone,” Kilgore supplied, which immediately reminded Asher of his father’s words, so he nodded and stepped back to allow them entrance.
He told them the pertinent information he had discovered, leaving out the parts that were personal. “I’m going to go to my country house to see if they are there, but—”
“I have an idea as to where Talbot might have taken your wife,” Kilgore said, his smile hard. “I lost Grimsthorne, my country home in Lincolnshire, to Talbot. I would wager he’s gone there.”
It made perfect sense. Pierce would not think that Kilgore would be helping Asher. He stared at the man and made a choice to forgive, one he should have made with his father. “Let’s go get my wife.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“What do you think?” Talbot asked, sweeping his hand to indicate the Chinese drawing room.
Guinevere was thinking that she didn’t care, but she suspected Talbot would not welcome that answer. The journey here had been long, and Talbot had spoken nonstop of his home, claiming that he knew she would love it. He’d knocked on her bedchamber door a dozen times in the last day, and she had forced herself out of bed this afternoon, knowing she could not put him off any longer. It was unfair to him, though she honestly did not see why he cared what she thought about his home, but she would strive to be enthusiastic. She owed him that. He was doing her an immense favor by allowing her to take time here to plan.
The problem was she had gone over the situation in her mind in every possible way, and she could not see how she would obtain a divorce without it casting a horrible shadow on her sisters’ futures. Nor in her stupid heart of hearts was she quite ready to let go of Asher, but she had accepted that it would take time. She felt as if she were near death, but that, she supposed, was half-true. Part of her had died. The part that had hoped for extraordinary love with him. What she was left with was a shell of her former self, yet she needed to somehow go on.
Talbot chattered on about the home, telling her where different pieces came from, and she continued to think of her problems while nodding politely every now and then. She had made up her mind that when she returned to London, she would offer Asher the choice to live apart. Just thinking on it made her ache, but she could not live with him knowing he was taking other women to his bed. It was intolerable. Maybe, in time, she would not care, but now… Well, now she had not yet managed to kill her love for him.
It occurred to her suddenly that Talbot was no longer speaking. She glanced toward him to find him closer than he had previously been—within arm’s length—and scrutinizing her.
“What is it?” she inquired.
“I asked if you liked this room. I had it redecorated recently with you in mind.”
She nearly tripped over the rug under her feet. She frowned. “I beg your pardon?” She could not have heard him correctly, but when he stepped closer, an uneasy feeling rose in her. She stepped back only to come up against something. She glanced behind her shoulder and gaped at the ornate walnut and parcel-gilt chair.
“That was a gift from King George to my father,” Talbot said, stepping even closer. “Sit in it.”
“I—” She swallowed. “No, thank you.”
“Sit,” he commanded, his tone hard and his look even harder.
Her heart quickened, and she sat, clutching the arms of the chair.
Talbot came to stand directly in front of her and leaned down. “Don’t be frightened.”
The words served to worsen the fluttering in her chest. “Why would I be frightened?” she managed.
“I know I’ve surprised you.”
That was a vast understatement, but she merely nodded.
“I planned this in my head—exactly what I would say.”
Oh, dear heavens. She had missed some glaring sign from this man at some point. She felt both angry and sad at once, and then suspicious that she had been a fool to accept what he’d told her about Asher. The suspicion gave the anger a leg up against the sadness.