While he rummaged through the desk—finding the writing implements, but no evidence—he composed the note to Kendra in his head. Yet another half-truth. The web their relationship hung suspended on was becoming more and more tangled.
He had the note written by the time Garrick stomped into the room, bleary-eyed and hastily dressed.
“What’s this about a debt, Amberley?”
“I seem to remember you showing up unexpectedly at my home, right in time for supper.” Folding the paper, Trick plastered on a smile. “I just happened to be riding by this morning and noticed it was time for breakfast.”
“What?”
“And you brought friends as well, did you not? This is my friend, um, Harold”—he slanted Pendregast a quick glance—“Gaunt. Sir Harold Gaunt.”
“Pleased to meet you, Lord Garrick,” Pendregast said.
Garrick gave him a curt nod before turning back to Trick. “The friends I brought were your friends, too.”
“And so they were.” Trick shrugged and held up the note. “Can I trouble you to have one of your staff run this to Amberley House? It’s rather urgent.” He licked his lips. “What are you serving this morning?”
SEVENTY-ONE
WHEN COMPTON met Kendra at Amberley House’s door with his silver tray in hand, her stomach knotted.
Received an urgent message from my shipping company’s manager, the note read. Following the weekend, must go to London for a day. Be back Monday evening or Tuesday. Will explain later. My love, T.
Her legs felt leaden as she trudged up the stairs. London. Without her again. Did he truly even own a shipping company? Or had he made that up as an excuse to run off to his mistress?
Arriving in her bedchamber, she leaned against the door and drew a calming breath. Surely her imagination was running wild. As usual, she was jumping to conclusions.
My love, T. She traced the words with a finger. He’d asked her to trust him. She had to believe him.
But three long, empty days yawned ahead, and she didn’t have to stay at home pining for him, either. She was no Clytie. If he could spend his weekend in the “traditional” way, playing cards with the men, she could keep her tradition with her sisters-in-law.
In fact, Caithren was probably waiting for her, and no doubt Amy and Jewel would be at Cainewood, too. While the men did whatever it was men did at house parties, they could have a party of their own.
Decision made, she packed a bag and headed for the stables. In no time at all she was barreling toward Cainewood, trying to enjoy the wind in her hair as she coaxed Pandora to go even faster. The miles sped by, the landscape becoming comfortingly familiar.
Amy and Cait would help her put everything into perspective. Surely their marriages had gone through precarious times as well, yet they were both happy.
She thundered over the wooden drawbridge, slid off Pandora, and ran toward Cainewood’s double front doors.
A startled butler opened one of them. “Lady Kendra! I mean…welcome, your grace. What brings you here to Cainewood?”
“I wish to visit with Lady Cainewood. And—” Words failed her when she glimpsed her twin over the man’s shoulder, pacing the upstairs landing with a contemplative look on his face and a beaker filled with bluish fluid in his hands. “Ford?” she called, stepping inside. “Why aren’t you at the house party?”
“Kendra?” He blinked, looked down at her, then disappeared for a moment. Reappearing at the top of the stairs empty-handed, he ran down and caught her in a hug.
“What party?” he asked, pulling back. “Am I missing a party? Criminy. Are there pretty ladies there, too?”
She frowned. “The card weekend, or whatever it is you men call it. Why aren’t you with the others?”
“We’ve had no card weekends since your wedding. They were always at Amberley—didn’t you know that?” With a hand on her arm, he drew her down the corridor toward the drawing room. “What made you think there was a house party this weekend?”
Once in the chamber, she dropped onto a coral-colored chair. Familiar, but not nearly as comforting as she’d hoped. “Trick. He told me he was leaving to play cards with the men, and he’d be back at the end of the weekend. Then he sent a note saying Monday or Tuesday.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “Are you sure there’s no party?”
“As sure as I can be. I’m sure Jason isn’t playing cards, or Colin that I know of, either.”
You’ll have to trust me. Once you promised you’d trust me. Has that changed?
A lump rose in her throat as she hid her face in her hands. “I’m a fool then, aren’t I? Over and over I believe what he tells me, but he always turns out to be hiding something.”
“Perhaps he has a good reason.” Ford sat in the adjacent chair and reached to pull her hands from her face, his brows knitted in sympathy. “I cannot imagine—”
“No.” She leapt to her feet. Overwhelming sadness turned to bitter anger instead. “There’s no good reason to deceive your spouse.”
Trick had said there were things he couldn’t tell her, and she’d accepted that, if rather reluctantly. But that wasn’t the same as telling her an outright lie.
He’d lied to her from the beginning, before they were even married, starting by withholding the fact that he was a duke. Whatever had made her believe he’d change now? He’d implied that he needed to play the highwayman for the sake of the children, then claimed he owned a prosperous shipping firm. Which one of those facts was true?
My love, T. Another lie. Someone who loved his wife wouldn’t treat her like this. Wouldn’t say he was going one place and end up another.
“He’s in London with his mistress.” She gritted her teeth, pacing the patterned black-and-coral carpet. “That’s why he was in
