Lady Guinevere and the Rogue with a Brogue - Julie Johnstone Page 0,94

a loud, hard rhythm in her ears, “but a marriage cannot prosper with secrets.” The minute the words left her mouth, she thought of the secret she was keeping from Asher. She was a hypocrite. Guilt snaked through her stomach and coiled into a hard ball. She had to tell him—and she would.

“I suppose you are correct,” Talbot said, his tone heavy with reluctance. “What I meant by considering was, well—This is deuced hard to say.” He gave her a pleading look. “I fear it may hurt you.”

“Please just tell me,” she murmured, her body now trembling. She threaded her hands together in her lap so that Talbot would not take notice.

“Very well,” he said, sounding defeated. “I was referring to my father’s will and Carrington’s other marriage proposal.”

A tumble of confused thoughts and feelings assailed her at once, and all she could do for a moment was sit there.

Finally, Talbot broke the silence. “Perhaps you ought to speak directly to Carrington about this.”

She somehow found the strength to shake her head. If Asher had intended to tell her, why had he not done so before the wedding? “Please continue.”

Talbot’s gaze darted to the door, as if ensuring they were still alone. “My father’s will stipulated that Carrington had to wed one of three women my father had selected before his death in order to inherit all the unentailed property and family fortune. If he failed to meet the stipulation, I was to inherit it in his stead.”

“No,” she said, the hardness of her voice startling her. “That cannot be.” She was horribly hot, and her blood had joined her heart to roar in her ears. “Asher would not relent to such a thing.”

When Talbot reached out, took her hand, and squeezed it, she felt she would lose the little bit of food that was in her stomach. “I’m sorry.” He paused, swallowing, his eyes glinting into hers with pity that made her want to scream. “I’m certain seeing the two of you now that he wed you for more than the inheritance.”

She was certain of nothing. She was going to be sick. She sucked in a long breath, then reached a trembling hand for her hot chocolate and drank a long swallow, allowing the liquid to push the horrid feeling lodged in her throat down a bit. “Who—” God above, she could not believe she was asking this. “Who, besides me, was on your father’s list?” She didn’t know why Asher’s father had created such a demand, except that he clearly had wanted to control Asher until the bitter end. Good heaven! That’s what Asher must have been referring to last night, and when she had asked him what he meant, he had not answered her. Her stomach clenched.

Talbot hesitated but finally said, “Lady Henrietta Burgh and Lady Constantine Colgate.”

Her mind immediately started racing. Lady Henrietta had scandalously eloped right before Asher had returned to London. He would have been told this, she was sure. But Lady Constantine… Guinevere heard herself groan, and she compulsively pressed a hand over her mouth to hold in anymore horrid, wounded animal sounds. Her throat ached with a ferocious need to cry as memories fell. Asher unexplainably showing up in the library the night she had intended to rescue Lady Constantine from ruination. Asher and Lady Constantine seeming friendly. Lady Constantine inexplicably aiding Asher in stealing a moment alone with Guinevere at the house party. Asher’s sudden attention to Guinevere.

A raw, primitive grief threatened to overwhelm her, but she fought it. She didn’t want to accept that the love she thought was within her grasp was not. That the man she loved was a liar, an opportunist. Was just like all the other men who had not wanted her at all.

“Was I—” She paused, struggling to ask the embarrassing question. “I wish to know, do you know, well, did Carrington ask Lady Constantine to wed him before he asked me?”

It occurred to her then quite painfully that Asher had not initially asked her. He had compromised her. Never mind that she had been a willing participant. He had followed her on the hunt, he had kissed her, and she had been compromised.

“I do not know, Guinevere,” Talbot said, using her familiar name. She did not have the heart to protest. Her heart was breaking.

“You do not know, or you will not say?” She had to choke out the words. The room was spinning a bit, and she blinked several times to bring it