“That makes two of us.”
Now was the time. He drew in a sharp breath. “Your Aunt Mildred didn’t just abandon you. She’s unwell. Forgetful to the point of not functioning.”
“And how do you know this?”
He swallowed. “The Scot you’ve seen me with.” He looked over at her. “That is your cousin, Ewan.”
She gasped in a breath as she scrambled to her knees. “He’s in London?”
“He is,” Brandon answered. “He came to attend you girls.” Brandon grimaced. This time, Brandon had truly wanted to protect them, but he’d intercepted Ewan to stop him from seeing the girls. He’d been afraid that Ewan’s presence would propel the ring of criminals to attack the women. They’d not been a threat with no money and no control over the business.
But he’d also robbed them of a protector and what was more…he’d gained a partner in rooting out the thieves. Which was for them, the Carrington sisters, but more for him and restoring his name.
“Why didn’t he come to us?” She leaned forward, her eyes so intent, she’d not miss even a blink or a moment’s hesitation.
“I was afraid he’d alert everyone to your father’s death.”
“You were afraid…” her voice trailed off, but he felt the tension in the room thicken. “It was your choice to leave us unprotected.”
His mouth pressed into a firm line as he sat up straighter. “I needed the thieves to think that we weren’t on to them. That it was business as usual.”
Her hand fluttered up around her face. “When did he arrive in London?”
He gritted his teeth. He knew how bad this sounded. “Five months
ago.”
“Five months?” Her voice trembled. “Five months?” With each word it grew louder. “You allowed us to think that our family had abandoned us completely for the last five months?”
He scrubbed his face. “Try to understand. If they’d known, they might have focused their attack on you sooner. They might have shifted their business practices so that we couldn’t catch them. They might—”
“I understand,” she said her voice sharp and clipped. “I understand perfectly. You made choices on our behalf months ago without consulting or making yourself known to any of us.”
“I didn’t know you then and I needed to restore—"
But her gasp made him stop. “Was this about our safety or your reputation?”
Damn it all to bloody hell, he’d said too much. But he’d be honest now. “Both.” He reached for her, but she moved away. “I know that I took a gamble, and that gamble could have really hurt you.”
“Did hurt us,” she said, her hands clenching into fists. “We grew so desperate that we sent Isabella in men’s clothing to become a dealer at a gaming hell. Eliza had to steal the clothes from a baron’s son and could have been ruined.”
He shuddered. “I’m sorry.”
Her arms had wrapped about her middle and she stood, crossing to the porthole. “You put us in great danger with your choices.”
He didn’t follow her this time. He knew she needed her space, but his chest ached. “You’re right.” He dipped his head. “You said earlier that you sensed something keeping us apart. My father wanted me to be king. He spied for the French with the promise that should they overthrow the throne, I would become the new leader of England. He thought he was doing right by me, but in the end, I’ve suffered greatly for his choices.”
Emily gasped even as she turned back to him. “Brandon.” There it was. That hint of compassion and sympathy creeping into her voice that he’d needed to hear.
“I didn’t mean to,” he whispered, then scrubbed his face. “I told myself that I was helping both of us but when I made that choice to follow the thieves and end this investigation rather than rush to your side and keep that kidnapping from happening. Deep inside, I knew the truth. I behaved just like him.”
His head sunk and he closed his eyes. The truth was out. She’d hate him if she wanted to, but he’d begin their marriage without secrets.
Chapter Twelve
In that moment, all of Emily’s anger evaporated. She’d never been able to be angry with someone who was furious with themselves.
His head was sunk low, and in this moment, she knew exactly what he’d meant when he’d said that she had power.