Page 49 of Once a Scoundrel

“I suppose we could hold out hope about my parents.” She took the lamb from Jeremy and rubbed it against his belly until he laughed. “Of course, it’s too soon to hear back from India.”

Thatcaught his attention. Stephen wheeled to face her. “You wrote to your parents?”

The smile on her face faded, and she placed the lamb in Jeremy’s lap. “So much time has passed, so much has happened...I decided that the moment was right to try to make amends.”

His chest tightened with sympathy for her. The estranged relationship with her parents over Daniel and Jeremy had devastated her, and because she’d been forced to leave India before she was showing with child, she hadn’t been able to heal the breech between them. He was glad that she had reached a point where she felt secure enough to contact them, but he prayed her hopefulness wouldn’t be dashed.

“Then I hope you hear from them soon,” he told her quietly.

“No matter if I don’t, because I’ve decided that I’m going to keep writing to them regardless of what reply I receive. Or don’t.” She smiled up at him. “Siege warfare.”

He quirked a brow. “Oh?”

“I’m going to wear them down until they accept me again, flaws and all.” She placed a kiss on the top of Jeremy’s head. “Child and all.”

Her plotting earned a grudging admiration from him and a smile. The army was looking in the wrong place for strategy experts. They should have been prowling for recruits over tea services in dressmakers’ shops.

“Which, I suppose, is the exact same thing you’ve planned for the Llewellyns, to wear them down until they give in.” She cast him a dubious glance. “If they refuse us today, are we encamping in their rose garden?”

His lips pressed together tightly. “I’m glad you find this amusing.”

“I don’t,” she answered quietly. “Not at all.”

“Everything will work out,” he assured her. If he said it often enough, perhaps he would believe it.

“And you?” she asked softly, a touch of concern in her voice. “Will everything be all right with you?”

“Of course it will.” Ithadto. Because living without Faith...impossible. “I’m fine.”

With a soft sigh, she shook her head. “I know you, Stephen, and you are the furthest thing from fine. You haven’t been yourself since Lady Faith departed Elmhurst Park.”

His heart jumped into his throat at her mention of Faith. “It’s nothing for you to be concerned with,” he answered and turned away to pace again, hoping she would let the subject drop. The last person he wanted to discuss right then was Faith. Not when his future with her depended upon how the next few minutes went with the Llewellyns.

“It concernsyou, so of course it concerns me because I care about you,” she returned. “She means a great deal to you, I can see it.”

“Of course she does. As does all her family,” he prevaricated. “We’re friends.”

“Oh, you’re so much more than that,” she lowered her voice knowingly although no one could have overheard them.

His gut clenched at the reminder of spending the night in Faith’s arms. Which was the very last thing he wanted to think about today. “I don’t know what—”

“Youloveher.” She smiled gently as she proved her point by commenting, “Only a man in love would be in such distress.”

“I’m not in distress,” he dissembled, running a frustrated hand through his hair. What he felt was a great deal worse.

Clearly, she didn’t believe him, based on her frowning look of disapproval. The same one she gave Polly whenever the young maid tried to sneak into the village to visit the blacksmith’s son. “I saw how you two looked at each other.”

“You were delusional with fever.”

His attempt at teasing only deepened her frown. “You mustn’t waste your chance to be with her because of Jeremy and me. Because you feel guilty about Daniel’s death.”

Halting in his steps, he turned to keep his back toward her so she couldn’t see his face. They’d never had this conversation before, about the reasons why he’d pledged his help to her nearly two years ago. They both knew, but neither had voiced it openly. Until now. Fresh guilt and grief clawed at his gut.

Her gaze softened. “You were so very kind to help us when you didn’t have to—”

“I did,” he ground out, resting a hand on the fireplace mantel.

“No. Daniel’s death was not your fault.”