She swallowed. “In any event, there was no way I could face a London season, and no way I could explain the reasons to my father. So I lied. And years later, here we are.”
“Here we are.”
“See?” She forced a smile. “I told you the truth was stupid. Just another foolish story of Maddie Gracechurch making one mistake and then letting it ruin the next ten years of her life. It’s a pattern, apparently.”
He regarded her, thoughtful. “That pattern isna what I see when I look at you.”
“It isn’t?”
“No.”
In the dim, misty interior of the kirk, her eyes were pools of dark liquid. “Then what do you see?”
He waited a moment before responding. “I see a bug.”
She laughed in surprise. Just as he’d hoped she would.
“No, truly,” he said. “One of those insects that starts out as a grub and then makes itself a case. What’s it called?”
“A cocoon?”
“Right. It makes itself a cocoon and goes into hiding. And when it finally emerges, it’s something entirely different. Something beautiful.”
“Well, sometimes it’s beautiful. A great many insects make themselves cocoons. It’s not all pretty moths and damselflies, you know. If you’re right, and I’ve been hiding in a cocoon, I could emerge to find that I’m an earwig or a termite.”
Logan doubted it. He knew what he’d seen when those velvet drapes had been pushed aside in the dressmaker’s shop, and it hadn’t resembled an earwig. But she needed to discover that for herself.
He said, “There’s only one way to find out.”
“You’re saying I should screw up my courage and go to the ball.”
He nodded. “You have more courage than you give yourself credit for. You’re brave enough to take me on, and that’s not nothing.”
“I suppose that’s true. You are rather formidable.”
“There are trained soldiers who fled at the sight of me. You’ve always held your ground.”
“It must seem unspeakably ridiculous, having to coax me to go to a party when you’ve led troops into battle. How did you manage it without being frightened?”
“Battle, do you mean?”
She nodded.
“I didn’t. I was always frightened. Terrified, every time.”
“Oh.”
“But it helped to know I wasna alone. That there was always someone at my back who wouldna desert me.” He pulled her arm through his, tucking it close. “We’ll be in it together. I’ll be there for you. I sure as hell wouldna be at the Beetle Ball for anyone else.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
As if it were impulse, she kissed his cheek.
And then, as if it were destiny, he bent and kissed her lips.
The embrace was brief and chaste. But sweet. So sweet. And somehow more affecting than any kiss he’d known before. With Madeline, or with anyone.
This day grew more and more perilous. He’d woken from his sleep to find Maddie too close to caring for him. Then her aunt had made it clear there was a second set of hopes he stood at risk of destroying.
Now the worst, most unthinkable revelation of all.
What could be worse than knowing there were two hearts in danger of breaking?
Suspecting there might be three.
Chapter Eighteen
Aside from a small delay due to muddy roads, the journey went much as planned. They reached the coaching inn with plenty of time to dress for the evening.
One of the inn’s serving girls helped Maddie with her gown and hair. The young woman was remarkably talented with curling tongs, Maddie thought, surveying the girl’s work in the looking glass as she considered whether perhaps she ought to hire a proper ladies’ maid.
But even if her hair looked tolerable, there was still . . . the rest of her. Her cheeks were pale. Her stomach was a writhing mass of nerves. She hadn’t been able to eat a thing all day.
And Logan wasn’t helping in the least. While she dithered over her choice of earbobs, he walked the room.
Back and then forth.
And back and then forth.
Worse, he seemed to pick up speed with every pass. Until he was striding with agitation in every step.
She watched him in the mirror. “You’re making me nervous. I do wish you’d stop flouncing.”
That suggestion drew him to a halt. He turned to her. “I’m not flouncing.”
“It looked like flouncing to me.”
“Men canna flounce.”