Page 76 of Scandals of an Earl’s Daughter

Chapter Twenty-Five

The bedroom door opened barely an inch. Ivy didn’t wait. She flew from the bed, nearly tripping on her nightgown, and yanked it fully open to find Cillian standing in the doorway. His shirt was crumpled, blood-stained, and torn. The eyepatch was long gone. A bruise bloomed under one eye and a little slash skimmed the top of his nose. Her heart stretched.

She flung her arms about his neck and flattened a kiss to his mouth.

He hissed out a breath and she dropped her hands from him. “Sorry.”

Shaking his head, Cillian peered at her from underneath a mess of dark curls. “No. Do it again.”

Smiling, she looped her arms around him, with more caution this time and kissed him gently.

“Are you well?” His gaze skimmed her face, and he slipped his hands down the curves of her body. “No injuries?”

“My throat is a little sore, but all is well.”

His mouth pressed into a thin line as he eyed her neck. She knew she bore the fingerprints of what happened today, and she should be terrified perhaps over how close she had come to death. Instead, it was as though it had enlivened her. She wanted to grasp every opportunity that came her way. Live every day as though it were her last.

She wanted to love Cillian to the best of her ability.

“I’m sorry this happened.” He made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. “I should have protected you better, should have—”

“No more regrets. You have lived with them for long enough.” Ivy put a finger to his lips. “How is Mr. Marshall?”

“Alive.”

“Goodness.” She didn’t know how to feel about that. The man had performed a heinous act yet when she saw the love in his eyes, she only felt pity. He would have to live with the fact he harmed the woman he loved for the rest of his days.

“The doctor thinks he will survive but his back is broken. He shall not walk for the rest of his days.”

“I pity him.”

“As do I.”

“That is why you stayed so long.”

“We were friends once upon a time. I hate him for what he did to you.”

“And to you!”

His mouth ticked at the corner. “I cannot hate him for that, somehow. Perhaps if I was a different sort of a man people would not have so easily believed I might be responsible.”

“You are the best sort of man. It is their fault for not seeing you for who you really are.”

Cillian lifted a shoulder. “It hardly matters now.”

“No, though I should like to find out what happened to Mary in the end. We can only assume she succumbed to the poisoning.”

“How did you figure that out?”

“There are three things Musgraves are banned from—owning dogs—”

He swung a glance toward the little bed in the corner where Charlie remained curled. “That did not last long.”

“Cursing,” she continued, ignoring his faint smile, “and wearing green dresses.”

“I’ve never even heard of such an issue. I cannot help but wonder why.”

“Many do not believe it possible, and it is true that few deaths have been reported. The companies claim the dye is sealed and that it is merely coincidence that women have died from wearing green dresses.”

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