Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

" I looked everywhere for you," Xenia said softly.

Although Ethan heard her enter the stall, he didn't turn at her approach. He was in his shirtsleeves, his coat and cravat tossed over a nearby bale of hay. His hair was damp from the dunking he'd given himself in the trough to sober up. He continued to brush Legato, who gave Xenia a nicker of welcome.

"You've found me," he said tonelessly.

"Everyone was worried?—"

"They needn't have been." Self-derision sharpened his words. "By now, they ought to be used to me acting like a lunatic."

"No one thinks you are a lunatic. Just that you overindulged with the whisky."

It was a ready excuse, but he felt like a coward taking it. He knew it hadn't just been the drink. What he didn't know was if he wanted to share the truth. As far as he was concerned, there'd been enough humiliation for the evening. Trapped between bad options, he chose to remain silent, moving the bristles through Legato's shining coat.

"You weren't actually jealous, were you?" she blurted.

One of the things he liked about Xenia was her directness. When it came to their interactions, she called a spade a spade. She would never tread on eggshells around him because of his infirmity or anything else. It was relieving, even though it put him on the spot. If he admitted to jealousy, he would have to provide context and disclose facts about his relationship with Constance that, frankly, he would rather not.

"Mr. Canning wasn't flirting with me," Xenia went on. "I ate one of the cakes and got icing on my face. Out of courtesy, he tried to remove it for me. That was what you saw."

The explanation made Ethan sink lower in his own esteem.

"I acted like an idiot," he said with disgust. "Let's leave it at that."

"Perhaps it wasn't your finest moment," she said candidly. "But we've all been guilty of misunderstandings at some time or another. After you left, Mr. Canning was horrified that you had arrived at the conclusion that he and I…that there was anything going on. We were merely discussing his novel. He was stuck, and I had some ideas. You know, because of all my novel reading."

"I know nothing was going on," Ethan bit out. "It was…it was just me. Being an idiot. I will apologize to Canning in the morning. Now, you should get some rest. You must be tired after the debacle of the evening."

"I am not leaving until I know why you are angry." She stood her ground, her hands clenched by her fluffy green skirts. "Did you not want me there this evening? If so, you should have told me."

"Of course I wanted you there." He gave up on grooming Legato, irritably tossing the brush into a box.

"I understand, you know." She lifted her chin. "What happens in private is one thing, in public another altogether. We may be lovers, but that doesn't change the fact that I am your servant and not from your class. I do not belong amongst your family and friends. Perhaps seeing me there tonight brought home that fact."

"Christ, Xenia." He stared at her, dumbfounded by the conclusion she'd arrived at. "You think that I'm in a devil of a mood because you did not fit in this evening?"

"It was not my idea to be an interloper, you know," she shot back. "It was your sister's. She said she wanted female company this eve and gave me this dress which, by the by, I'm certain was actually from you. Her maid dressed me and ruined my hair?—"

"Your hair isn't ruined. It's bloody perfect," he said in exasperation. "I hope to God you never dye it again. In fact, I insist upon it."

"You don't have a right to tell me what to do with my hair." She was working herself into a fine rage. "Not when you cannot be honest. Just admit it, Ethan: you don't want anyone knowing about us. Maybe seeing me in that dress made you realize that fine feathers do not make the bird and that I'll never belong in your world. Something I knew from the start, which is why I never asked for commitments or promises?—"

"Christ, I am not angry at you," he exploded. "I am angry at my own bloody self ."

"Why?" she retorted. "Because you stooped to dally with your housekeeper?"

There were so many things wrong with her statement that he didn't know where to start. His temper snapped.

"No, I'm furious because I didn't know that my ex-fiancée was sleeping with my best friend," he said savagely. "And because I was foolish enough to propose to her in the first place."

When Xenia lost her temper, which wasn't often, she typically took awhile to wind down. Not this time. Ethan's admission was like a pile of ashes dumped on her anger.

"Uh…" was all she could think to say.

"You want to know about the woman I was engaged to," he said curtly.

Right. Yes. She most certainly did. While he'd mentioned being engaged before this, he'd obviously glossed over a few details. He'd said the relationship ended because they "did not suit," which was a far cry from "my betrothed did the mattress jig with my best friend."

"Who…when?" Xenia managed.

"Her name is Constance. She was a widow, and I met her shortly after I was injured. We were engaged for two years, and things ended a few weeks before my arrival in Chuddums."

He was with this woman for two years? And their relationship barely just ended?

"I was never in love with Constance, but I thought we suited," he went on. "She was well-bred and accommodating. She didn't seem to care that I lost my ability to perform as a virtuoso and my short-lived fame along with it. When I had my moods, she was patient and kind."

Xenia's insides plummeted. Constance seemed like the perfect lady. The opposite of Xenia, who'd accused Ethan of being grumpy, got herself hired on false pretenses, and pestered him about ghosts, curses, and making music again.

"I don't understand," she said in a small voice. "Why would such a perfect lady commit infidelity?—"

"She only sounds perfect." Ethan raked a hand through his hair. "Like I said, I was foolish enough not to see the truth…but Gigi did. She never liked Constance, and recently, she told me why. She said Constance needed to be seen as a paragon, and I was the perfect foil: a damaged rake who she could reform with her virtue."

"You are not damaged," Xenia said fiercely.

"You didn't know me then." His violet-blue eyes were tormented. "After my injury, I was a bloody wreck. I was so angry —at Owen, at the loss of my music and my life as I knew it. Constance did seem like an angel at first. She buffered me from the people and things that triggered my rage and encouraged me to withdraw when I wasn't fit for company. What I didn't realize until Gigi pointed it out was that Constance was, in fact, also reinforcing my worst tendencies."

"What tendencies?"

"Instead of sorting things out with Owen and my family, I avoided them. Instead of accepting my physical limitations and looking for different ways to pursue my passion, I wallowed in self-pity and rage and gave up music altogether. Instead of managing my moods, I would lock myself in my study and brood for days. I am not blaming Constance: I, alone, am responsible for my behavior. However, being with her did not bring out the best in me, and I am only now realizing it."

"But if she was getting what she wanted from the relationship," Xenia said slowly, "why did she betray you?"

"I tortured myself for weeks asking that exact question." He braced his hip with his good hand, his gaze studiously on the hay-strewn floor. "At first, I thought it was because I did not satisfy her...physically, I mean."

Xenia snorted. "That seems unlikely."

She said the words without thinking, but she was rewarded by Ethan's searching glance, an easing of the lines around his eyes. It astounded her that this dashingly virile fellow could harbor any concerns about his sexual appeal or abilities. Yet that was the insidiousness of self-doubt. Until Ethan had come into her life, she hadn't realized the extent to which she struggled with her own self-worth.

"I am glad you think so," he said with a trace of a smile. "But things between Constance and I were nothing like what you and I have. She and I only went to bed a few times, and at the risk of sounding ungentlemanly, the occasions were less than memorable. A few days before our wedding, she left a letter telling me she was eloping with Armand Blake, my close friend."

"Odds bodkins," Xenia murmured.

She suddenly recalled his request during his first visit to the Nunnery: I want something real. After being betrayed so horribly by the woman he'd intended to make his wife, no wonder his fantasy had involved genuine emotion. Genuine passion and connection.

"Odds bodkins, indeed." Ethan's mouth curved wryly. "I think I see now why she broke off our engagement. Not because of bedroom matters, but because I was changing. I was slowly but surely coming back to myself. My moods were far from perfect, but they were improving. Except for Owen, I started seeing more of my family again…and I didn't need her as much. I recall now that we even fought about it. She called me ungrateful—said I didn't value the sacrifices she'd made. I even felt guilty about it."

"You weren't the guilty party," Xenia said crisply. "Did Constance marry your friend?"

"Yes. Since he's the biggest rake of our group, she will have her hands full."

She tilted her head. "You don't sound too distraught about it."

"First of all, I was never distraught over their betrayal," he said. "I was furious. There's a difference."

The fact that he can split hairs has to be a good sign.

"Second, and more importantly, I realize now that everything worked out the way it should have."

Ethan came closer, close enough that he could touch her. He didn't, however. He looked steadily into her eyes, as if he wanted her to see he wasn't hiding anything.

"If Constance hadn't jilted me, I wouldn't have come to Bottoms House. And I wouldn't have met you. The woman who reminded me that life is worth living—who showed me the difference between merely existing and being happy."

Her heart thumped in a giddy rhythm. "Nonetheless, I am sorry you went through what you did. Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?"

"I was embarrassed." Ruddy color washed over his cheekbones, making his irises appear even more vivid. "Being jilted is not something a fellow takes pride in. I did not want you to think less of me."

"I understand, you know. I felt the same way when I told you about my infatuation with Tony."

He cupped her cheek. "I would never think less of you because someone was foolish enough to let you go."

"Likewise."

They smiled at each other, and he was pulling her into his arms when she stopped him.

"Don't forget we need to figure out an explanation," she said. "To tell the others."

"I will make an apology to Canning and everyone else in the morning."

"Yes, but how will you explain what you said?"

He lifted his brows. "Which part?"

"The part where you said I'm yours."

"I will tell them it's true."

"You can't…" She bit her lip. "We agreed to keep our relationship a secret."

" You want to keep it a secret. I want us to discuss our future together."

"Our future ?" Her jaw slackened. "I thought I made it very clear that I cannot commit?—"

"Gigi likes you," he said solemnly. "She thinks my family would like you too, and she's usually right about these things."

"You spoke to your sister about me? About us ?"

The very idea made her start to wheeze.

"Take a deep breath, pet."

"I can't. We can't…"

She couldn't fight the surge of panic, the sense of impending doom. If Ethan had talked about her with his sister, the future he was referring to could only mean one thing. A permanent, marriage sort of thing. That he thought her worthy of such an honor made her feel a bit weepy…but she could never accept.

I will always find you—and you won't like it when I do.

Mama had proved those words time and again. But this time, Xenia had more to lose than her freedom. She couldn't let what had happened to her papa and Mr. Trelawney happen to Ethan.

"Tell me what is going on in that head of yours," he said keenly.

She wanted to—had never been so tempted to disclose her secrets. With Ethan, she felt safer than she ever had in her whole life. Yet telling him about her past would be the ultimate act of selfishness. She knew the sort of man he was, knew that he would insist on trying to defend her against her mother…like her father had tried to. And Mr. Trelawney.

Look how they had ended up.

I love Ethan.

The realization constricted Xenia's chest. This was no infatuation. She'd fallen completely and incontrovertibly in love, and she would never, ever allow Ethan's blood to be shed because of her.

"Xenia? What is it? Tell me."

He was looking too closely, seeing too much. She needed to buy time to think. To figure out if and how she could be with the man she loved without endangering him.

"I…I want you, Ethan," she whispered.

It was a truth, if not the main one burning in her heart. From the flare in his eyes, she'd succeeded in diverting him. To distract him further, she rose on tiptoe and pressed her mouth ardently to his.