Page 64 of This Laird of Mine

Claire shook her head and drew a stilted breath. “No. I hurt him too badly. He will never trust me again. Besides, he can’t miss something he never loved.”

“He loved you,” Penelope said, her voice choked with sorrow. She stepped toward Claire and, ignoring the palette and the odorous cloth, wrapped her in a supportive hug.

“Not enough.” Claire turned out of Penelope’s arms, grateful for once that the mention of his name did not bring an agony of pain. She’d grown numb over the last month. That numbness helped her now as she moved to her paints and refilled her palette with white and brown, and just a hint of red, yellow, and green, to create the flesh tones she needed.

The two words echoed in her mind as she blended the paint.

Not enough.

The following morning, Fin entered the drawing room, where Jules was standing, staring at empty space. “Milord,” Fin interrupted.

Jules turned toward the door, expecting to have to reassure his worried steward, when he saw an unexpected sight. “Peter Kirkwood?”

“Good morning, milord,” the older man said, making a small bow before coming into the room.

Jules frowned as anticipation edged with worry. “What brings you to Kildare Manor?” Jules waved him toward a seat on the settee.

“A startling discovery I felt you should know,” he replied, settling into the cushions. His voice was quiet and even, but there was an undercurrent to his words.

Jules remained standing as the unknown tightened his chest and made it hard to breathe. “Is it Claire?” he blurted out, needing to put words to the fear that was always there, taunting him. Had leaving her alone with David been the appropriate action?

“Nay, milord. I have uncovered new information about your father’s last days.”

The revelation startled Jules. “Go on.”

Kirkwood leaned forward. “I could not leave things the way we did in Edinburgh. I decided to take things upon myself to dig deeper, to understand your father’s motives for bribing Grayson to do something that was so beyond his character.”

Jules raised a brow. “What did you discover?”

“In Grayson’s notes, I discovered that your father did not pay the ransom to release you from gaol, but that he paid the warden to keep you incarcerated.”

Jules strode across the chamber, no longer able to stand still. He paced back and forth. “He kept me in? Why? Did he hate me that much?”

He had not realized he had spoken aloud until Kirkwood answered. “I think it is quite the opposite. I went to the warden and spoke with him. He said your father was worried the last time he went to the gaol to make a payment. He had no idea you had been released the week before. The news brought him to his knees, the warden said. When he asked Lord Kildare what was wrong, he said he could not let her get to you. Do his words mean anything to you?’

“Yes, they mean everything.” What Agatha had told him was true.

“There’s more.” Kirkwood interrupted. “From the financial trail your father left behind, it appears that he sold everything in the manor a few weeks after that encounter, and that was the money he used to pay Grayson to arrange your marriage to a Miss Claire Elliot.”

Jules stopped his pacing as a realization he could no longer avoid crashed over him. His father had cared, at least in the end, what happened to him. “It still doesn’t make sense as to why he did what he did.”

“From what I could discover, he seemed determined to find you a bride. I talked with several carriage drivers who said they escorted your father around town as he sought out women with the name Claire who were single, available, and somewhat down on their own luck.”

“He chose my bride?” Jules echoed his previous sentiment, still not quite believing the words.

Kirkwood nodded. “It appears your father’s last act upon this earth was to make certain his younger son would have a future, and if I might add my own sentiment, a reason to live.”

A reason to live.

Jules smiled. He wasn’t certain if it was because of the proof of a father’s love, or knowing that his father had chosen a woman for him based entirely upon her name, or both.

Claire had given him a reason to live. She had helped him settle into his role as laird. Such a thing would have been unbearable without her. She was his life, his heart, his soul. And he suddenly wondered why he’d felt it necessary to keep her at arm’s length, because without her he was barely alive.

At Jules’s continued silence, Kirkwood rose. “I hope the information is reassuring, if not somewhat inspiring.”

Jules nodded. “Inspiring, yes.”

The older man nodded. “I will continue to investigate and let you know if I discover anything further.”