“Don’t thank me yet. The next order of business is more personal. I heard a bit of disturbing news about you yesterday.”
That didn’t bode well. “Sounds ominous. Gossiping about me, were you?”
She raised a brow his way, as painfully beautiful as she’d been in his dreams last night. “I think it’s safe to say we share a mutual disdain for gossip. However, these allegations are dire enough that they deserve an answer.”
“Dire, eh? Yet you helped me with Mr. Macdonell’s information. I’m touched,” he said, hand over his heart.
“I didn’t say I believed the gossip, only that I wanted to hear your defense. One of my suitors claims you tried to kill one of your friends.”
Well, there it was. He sighed, then navigated Ezra around a patch of late-blooming flowers. This was progress of a sort. A month ago, she’d have unilaterally believed the claims. However, with his dirtiest laundry hung before her, he wasn’t sure if the heavy emotion settling in his gut resulted from the accusation or her casual reference to a suitor. “Your, uh, suitor is catching you up on all the news you missed these past few years.”
“You don’t deny it? He’s accusing you of attempted murder.” Lady Charlotte gaped at him as if outraged on his behalf. That weight in his belly lifted a tad.
“Nay. A charge of attempted murder implies forethought and planning. There wasn’ forethought given tae anything back then. Not much thinking, period, if we’re being honest. I ran wild through London.” So much he could say. Explain. Excuse. Best to stick to the facts. A quick glance showed he had her attention as their horses plodded sedately down the path. “Connor planned tae join the army, you see. We grew up together. No’ best friends, but we ran with the same lads in the village. Anyway, before Connor got his uniform, he wanted tae see London. Everyone back home thought it a great lark when I inherited. I was showing off my fancy life, because I tended tae be an insufferable twit. I’m sure you remember.”
“And Connor never made it to the army,” Lady Charlotte said.
Ethan shook his head. “Nay, he didn’. We were drinking, gambling, actin’ the fool. Someone proposed a race. It was an asinine bet, but we were drunk. Rather, I was drunk and the one at fault. The carriage crashed. Connor lost his leg—nearly died on the side of the road beside my horses.”
Lady Charlotte pulled her mount to a stop. “That’s why you cared so much about my coachman’s leg.”
He reined his horse to circle back. “Aye. I’m grateful you had a good doctor.” It was tempting to reach over and brush the curl from her forehead where it covered the red scar at her hairline.
Her brows scrunched together when she was deep in thought, and it was adorable. He hoped she’d considered what he’d said, and heard the truth. “Where is Connor now?”
“Yelling at masons today. The construction isn’ going tae plan on the brewery.”
She cocked her head. “He works for you?”
Ethan shrugged. “He refused money, so I gave him a job. Connor pretty much runs Woodrest.”
Her smile rivaled the sun melting the last of the surrounding fog. “Woodrest is your estate, right? Everything turned out all right, then.”
Ethan went cold. No, it wasn’t all right. He’d robbed a friend of his career in the army, in addition to a limb, for God’s sake. Having free run of a rambling manor house was hardly a worthwhile trade-off. Yet things could have been so much worse. He cleared his throat, tamping down the emotions. It would ruin the morning if he went down that conversational path. “At least people can only accuse me of attempted murder. I’m curious—who is your chatty suitor?”
“Mr. James Montague, son of the Earl of Danby. Our fathers are friends.”
He’d heard of the man—none of it flattering. Ethan tried to keep his expression benign but probably just looked bilious.
If her father had a connection to the Earl of Danby, one could assume that he’d look upon their match with favor. The stab of jealousy wasn’t unexpected. Ethan wasn’t good enough for his daughter, but somehow Montague—with a reputation that was nothing short of infamous—passed muster for the earl.
On top of that injustice, most women found the man appealing. Montague might be a scoundrel, but he was a handsome scoundrel. They would make a beautiful pair, with Lady Charlotte’s dark beauty acting as the perfect foil for her golden partner. Even Cal looked—well, normal—in comparison to Montague. When had the other man earned the title of suitor? Without thinking, Ethan blurted, “You can’t add Montague tae your husband list.”
That he’d mishandled the situation became clear when she stiffened and shot him a glare. “Of all the presumptuous, rude…” She gaped as if struggling for words.
Damn. Trying to lighten the mood, he said, “Is ‘rude’ the best you can come up with? You disappoint me, Lady Charlotte.”
Teasing banter wouldn’t soothe her ire. “What makes you think you have a voice in my ‘husband list,’ as you call it? For all you know, Mr. Montague already made an offer and has been accepted by my father.”
“Has he?” Please, no.
“You miss the point, my lord. That’s none of your business.”
That wasn’t a no. “You’re right, it’s not. I only say something because Montague is not a man you want tae saddle yourself with for life. I don’ want tae dirty your ears with details—” This ride had been going so well, and now the morning was shot to hell.
Her short laugh couldn’t be mistaken for amusement. “This from the likes of you? Might I remind you of our conversation not three minutes ago?
