“Only, whoever saw us thought I was Abigail. It’s a dratted thing, all of us looking so much alike.”
He sucked in his breath. “Your sister is going to be ruined?”
“No.” Emily finally locked her eyes onto his, unwavering. “She’s not. I can’t have that. She didn’t do a thing wrong.”
His chest swelled. This was why he cared so much for her. She loved with her whole heart and gave so freely of herself. There wasn’t a kinder woman in the world. She made him feel things he’d thought he’d never experience in his life.
He should have raced to her side when he’d heard that plot. He should have sent Ewan to them and had him sweep them away to Scotland where they would have been safe and warm and fed. Regret lanced through him. “You’re a good sister and a wonderful person.”
She shook her head and her eyes looked away from his again, toward the window. “She has the same shares as me. If you marry her…”
He blinked. Just one drop of his lids. Outwardly, he didn’t move otherwise. But inwardly, his stomach dropped.
She was handing him off to her sister. Like a bag of grain. Here he was falling headlong into love and she thought to just change out the bride the way one might change clothes.
He shook his head. Why should she want him? If Emily knew the half of it…
What did it say about him that the kindest person he’d ever met didn’t see merit in him? “No.” The single word popped out of his mouth. But he didn’t regret it. Wouldn’t take it back. “My offer was for you.”
“I agree,” Bash added behind him. “For once.”
Brandon straightened up, his back so stiff, he thought he might break to even move. He was going to marry the woman he admired and cared for and be absolutely miserable while doing it.
“I’ll have the contracts drawn up today.” Bash came around his desk. “We’ll go to see our king tomorrow.”
Brandon gave a nod.
“And Abigail?” Emily asked. “What about her?”
Bash’s shoulders drooped and he rubbed his eyes. The man looked…tired. “I’m working on it, Em.”
Em. He loved the name. He hated it on the other man’s lips. Not that he was jealous of Bash. Well, perhaps he was. Jealous of the way these women turned to him for guidance and support. Well, not all the women. Just Emily. He wanted to be her pillar. Her port in the storm. You should have stopped and warned her. That nagging voice in his head whispered.
No wonder she didn’t want him, didn’t trust him.
“Working on it?” Emily repeated, taking a step toward him. “How? I’m worried. What if no one will have her?”
Bash dropped his hands. “Emily. Abigail is a beautiful heiress. The problem is not whether a man will have her. They’ll be crawling out of the woodwork. It’s a question of finding a man I can trust. With her and her shares. And your sister will be fine. I’ll see to it. If you want to worry for someone, worry for Avery. She’s got no dowry thanks to her father and the girl is so painfully shy.”
Her breath caught and she looked at Brandon again, her eyes unreadable.
“I’m not marrying her either.” Brandon shook his head. “I’m only interested in saving one Carrington.”
Her eyes widened and her lips parted. “But why?”
Why? Because he was a fool, obviously. “Because you’re the one I actually am obligated to attend.” Why had he said that? His hand came to his stomach as he pulled his shoulders straight again. The truth would reveal too much.
Her mouth pinched and she looked away again. “I’m glad we’ve straightened everything out.”
He didn’t answer. He knew they’d not worked out a thing. Last night in the dark of that room he’d felt…hope. Her soft curves had been like a call. But this morning? A chasm stood between them.
Chapter Seven
Brandon sat in the gilded hall of the palace, his hands clasped. The only outward indication of his nerves.
He’d finished his interview with their king; Bash and Menace were still speaking with their sovereign leader, but Brandon had been dismissed.
By all accounts the discussion had gone well. He’d presented the king with a list of names and addresses along with the method he’d used to obtain them so that the king could systematically arrest all the offenders.
For his service, he’d been offered an invitation to a ball held at the palace the very next day. Which meant society would welcome him back with open arms. There was no need to hide his identity any longer.
Still, he didn’t feel the elation he’d expected for such a win.
The goal he’d been working toward for the past five years was finally his. He’d restored his family’s standings. He could rebuild his fortune and fully establish his seat once again.
Excitement, however, was not his primary emotion. Rather, sick dread continued to pool in his gut.
He’d cleared his family name. He’d outed the thieves or nearly, and most importantly, he’d made a match with the woman of his dreams. Or had he?
Emily had been ready to hand him over to her sister without a backward glance.
He straightened. Her affection had become more important to him than the fight to restore his name. He shook his head. Felled by a woman.
But then a small smile touched his lips. When she gave him that soft smile, she soothed the scars on his heart. But how did he convince her that he was worth more than the occasional smile. That he deserved all her affection?
Did he?
He knew he didn’t and that was the crux of the problem. How did they have a future after what he’d done in the past?
He stood and began pacing the hall, his footsteps muffled by the thick
