The Untamed MacKenzie
Page 53

“Thank you.” A grim light entered Fellows’ eyes then, as the police detective returned, and he outlined his plan to her.
***
Louisa entered the family’s box a different woman than when she’d left it. She’d spent a while in the horse stall putting herself to rights, Lloyd having to pick bits of hay out of every piece of Louisa’s clothing and her hair. He’d laughed as he’d done it—she loved his laugh, the deep, warm one that held none of his self-deprecation or bitterness.
Louisa had left the stable yard alone, pretending she’d done nothing but linger to pet the horses. She made her way back to the Mackenzie box, nodding and smiling at ladies who still watched her with contempt.
Ainsley and Isabella had already returned to the box, both of them giving Louisa sharp looks when she entered.
Gil greeted her warmly. “Louisa, my sweet, I was worried about you. Where did you disappear to?”
Louisa shrugged, hoping her warm face and the new softness in her body didn’t betray her. “Chatting to people is all. And looking at horses. I love horses, you know.”
“Well, it’s good to have you back to myself,” Gil said.
He smiled his warm smile, full of friendliness, no less sincere than when she’d left him an hour ago. Louisa had felt slightly guilty to receive his kind attentions then; now he only irritated her. What a difference an hour made!
Gil sat next to her and again moved close without being too obvious. But now the movement seemed possessive and arrogant, as though Gil implied he knew exactly how to behave and Louisa did not.
“I long to travel,” Louisa said to him. “To lands far away. Don’t you?”
Gil raised his brows at the non sequitur. “Yes, I enjoy travel. But there’s something to be said for good old England, isn’t there?”
“That’s true, but I very much enjoy my journeys to Scotland. Such wild land there, some of it quite rough. But beautiful, I think. Land untouched by any but God.”
“Yes, Scotland can be lovely,” Gil agreed, obviously wondering why on earth she’d brought it up.
“But I’ve never been abroad. I wasn’t able to have a Grand Tour. Perhaps we could go together, Gil. I’d especially love to see the Italian cities: Florence, Venice, Rome. Shall we go to Rome?”
Gil stared at her as though she’d lost her senses. “I suppose. Rome is a bit crowded. Hot in the summer. Loud.”
“Is it? But there is so much history there, and art. And I thought you partial to the city.”
“Well, yes, it can be beautiful,” Gil said, still bewildered. “But really, I think we ought to stay in northern climes. For instance, Paris in the summer is heavenly.”
“I think I’d prefer Rome. I hear some of the outlying towns are very pretty. Perhaps you can introduce me to your acquaintance there.”
Gil looked at her in confusion for a few moments longer, then Louisa saw him realize that she knew. His brows came down, lower, lower, in puzzlement, worry, anger.
“Louisa.”
Louisa patted his arm. “Do not worry, Gil. I wouldn’t make any sort of trouble for you. But it is a bit unfair to her, isn’t it? Oh, and to me. Marrying me under false pretenses, I mean.”
The last statement brought the other conversations in the box to a halt. Heads turned. Gilbert suddenly found himself under the scrutiny of four pairs of Mackenzie eyes, and the equally stony stares of the Mackenzie wives.
Gil’s face lost color. “It isn’t . . . the marriage wasn’t legal.”
“I have been told that it was legal without doubt,” Louisa said. “From a very good source. I am certain she insisted on it, wise lady. I think you’d better confess your sins, Gil. To your parents, to your friends, to me. Is bringing your true wife to England such a difficulty?”
“Louisa.” Gil tried frantically to lower his voice, but too late. “It was nothing. A youthful indiscretion is all. Long ago.”
Daniel broke in. “Ah, those youthful indiscretions. Always come back to haunt one, don’t they?”
Mac laughed. “You’re too young to have youthful indiscretions haunting you, Danny.”
“Don’t be so certain,” Ainsley said. “You’d be amazed what comes to light about our Daniel. But you were speaking of your indiscretions, Gil. Do not let us interrupt.”
Gilbert kept his gaze on Louisa. “You must believe me, Louisa. I was very young. It was mad and brief, and over.”
Louisa’s anger had climbed down a long way since she’d first learned Gilbert’s guilty secret. Wild happiness had erased most of her outrage. Now she could pity him, but the anger was still there. Gil had cold-bloodedly decided he’d lie to Louisa, and to his true wife, to deceive everyone. It was base and mean.
“I would believe you, Gil,” Louisa said. “But four children? Four little ones hardly indicates that you’ve left the affair far in the past.”
Gil dropped the innocent look. “Bloody hell.”
“A wife and four children, Mr. Franklin?” Hart’s eagle gaze skewered him.
“Indeed,” Louisa said. “They live in a village near Rome. Gil married her . . . about six years ago, was it, Gil? I imagine you realized your father would kick up a fuss if he discovered you’d married an Italian farmer’s daughter, so you decided to take an English wife of noble birth to keep him happy.”
Gil seized her hands. “No, Louisa. I asked you to marry me because I want to marry you. I will divorce her. I am having difficulty, I will admit—she’s Catholic and won’t hear of it. But I promise, I’ll get out of it. I have my best solicitors on it.”