Page 76 of The Rules of Matrimony
Ian motioned her to sit but did not take a seat himself. He folded his hands across his chest and, without preamble, said, “My father is a philanderer.”
She raised her brow but said nothing.
He reached back and scratched his head. “It is a common, accepted sin amongst most of theton, but they have not watched my mother suffer for years because of it.”
“I had no idea.”
“I first learned of it while away at school. One the boys at Eton had heard the rumors about my father and thought to harass me about it. I wanted to defend my father, but the clues of his behavior became apparent to my innocent mind in a way I had not seen before. I lost all respect for him that night and could never look at him the same again. You might not deem him a beast for such, but his cold, unfeeling nature does not lend me to think otherwise.”
The cozy room suddenly grew quite chilly. So this was why Ian hated his father. “Oh, Ian. I’m sorry.”
“Now you know why I cannot abide him and why I will not let him say anything against you. You must promise me that you will heed my warning and not visit his room without my presence.”
She nodded without hesitation. As a woman, it was easy for her to have compassion for Lady Kellen. Both genders committed adultery, but when the woman was the victim, she had little right to do anything about it.
Ian sat on the stout sofa table and rested his arms on his legs. “Now, what is it you wanted to speak to me about?”
She’d dreaded this moment all day, but it had to be done. She fingered the thick ribbon of her dress just below her ribcage, pulling out the hidden folded paper she’d concealed there. “I received this just before breakfast. I thought I could come up with a solution on my own, but I admit defeat and must humbly apologize.” She extended it to him. She knew telling him would be impossible, so he would have to read it himself.
“How cryptic.” Ian accepted the paper and unfolded it.
She put her hands together and brought the steepled fingers to her lips. She wasn’t praying, but perhaps she should be. Yes, she definitely should be.
Ian began reading aloud, “My dearest Amie.” He paused and looked up at her. “Are you trying to make me jealous?”
She almost smiled, but this was not an amusing matter. “Can you not tell it’s in a woman’s hand? It’s from my mother.”
Ian grinned. “I could. Perhaps my humor was ill-timed. I can see whatever is contained here has you worried. Forgive me.” He cleared his throat and began again.
“I hope you’ve arrived in London safely. You must find time to rest, as I know you will sacrifice yourself to care for everyone around you. You have never been very good at setting limits on yourself, and your haggard look is not your best.”
“You can skip that paragraph,” Amie said. She’d forgotten about the introduction. “Read further down.”
Ian chuckled and picked up on the next paragraph.
“I do hope Lord Kellen did not die. What terrible timing so soon after the wedding to have to wear black. Bad luck, indeed.”
“Skip that part too,” Amie said quickly. She leaned forward and found the correct starting place and pointed to it. He looked up, their faces much too close. She sat back down and swallowed. “The third paragraph, if you please.”
He nodded.
“You had done such a marvelous job making over my bedchamber that I thought to surprise you and make some improvements to yours.”
“Is this the right part?” he asked.
She brought her fingers back to her mouth. “I’m afraid so.”
He began again in his deep reading voice.
“It was a simpler project than the drawing room and one I was sure you would trust me to do without your help. But when having the furniture moved so the room could be painted, I stumbled across your diary.”
Ian lifted his eyes to meet hers. “Your diary?”
She gave a solemn nod. “Keep reading.”
“Are you sure you want me to?”
“I must insist.”
