The Madness of Lord Ian Mackenzie(107)

A muscle moved in Hart’s jaw. “Damn you, Ian. No, I didn’t love her. Yes, I cared for her. But yes, I used her, and before you remind me, yes, I used my wife, and both of them paid the ultimate price. What do you think that’s doing to me?”

“I don’t know.” Ian studied his brother, for the first time seeing him as something other than the stern, strong edifice of Hart Mackenzie. Hart the man looked out of his ambercolored eyes, and Hart the man was twisted in anguish. Ian put a hand on Hart’s shoulder. “I think you should have made Eleanor marry you all those years ago. Your life would have been ten times better.”

“My wise little brother. Eleanor jilted me, if you remember. Forcefully.”

Ian shrugged. “You should have insisted. It would have been better for both of you.”

“The Queen of England I can handle, Gladstone I can tolerate, and the House of Lords I can make to dance to my tunes.” Hart shook his head. “But not Lady Eleanor Ramsay.”

Ian shrugged again and pulled his hand away. His thoughts moved from Hart and his troubles to Beth waiting for him in the warm lounge. “I have a train to catch.” “Wait.” Hart put himself in front of Ian. They were the same height, looking straight into each other’s faces, though Ian had to move his gaze to Hart’s cheekbone. “One more thing. Beth, too, was completely right about me. I use you shamelessly. But with one difference.” Hart put his hands on Ian’s shoulders. “I love you, if I can be unmanly and say so. I didn’t take you out of the asylum just so you could help me with my politics. I did it because I wanted you free from that hell and given the chance to live a normal life.” “I know,” Ian said. “I don’t help you because you command me to.”

He saw Hart’s eyes grow moist, and suddenly his brother pulled him into a bear hug. The crowd milling around them turned their heads, smiled, or raised eyebrows. Ian held Hart close, fists pressing into his brother’s back. The two released each other, but Hart kept his hands on lan’s arms.

“Take Beth home and be happy. It’s over.” Ian glanced over as Curry opened the door to the waiting room, and Beth came out. She looked at Ian and smiled. “Maybe it’s over for you. For me, it’s just beginning.” Hart looked surprised, and then he nodded in understanding as Beth came to Ian, her hands outstretched, a warm smile on her face. Beth turned and planted a kiss on a startled Hart’s cheek, then took lan’s arm and let him walk her to the train.

In the train compartment, Curry fussed about making sure they’d have everything for the long ride north, until Ian sent him off. Rain and gathering dusk darkened the sky. Beth sank to the cushions and watched Ian yank the curtains closed against the gloom.

The train’s whistle hooted, the steam hissed, and the train jerked forward. Ian braced himself against the polished wall as the train rolled away from the station.

Beth leaned against the cushions, exhausted. “I could wish Curry had found a book or something for me,” she said. “Or we could have stopped for my needlework.” “Why?”

“For when you go a-roaming, up and down the train. I must keep myself occupied somehow.”

“I’m not going to roam the train.” Ian snapped closed the lock on the door. “You are here.”

“You mean you will stay alone with me? Without a chaperone?” Despite their bit of play in her bedchamber the day Fellows’s secret had been revealed, Ian had again kept his distance.

“I have a question to ask you.”

Beth stretched one arm across the back of the seat, hoping she looked provocative. “And what is that, husband?” Ian leaned down, his body hemming her in. His large fists rested on the seat back behind her. “Do I love you?” Her heart banged in her chest. “What a question.” “When you were ill, when Mrs. Palmer hurt you, I knew I’d die if you died. There would be nothing inside me, just a hole where you used to be.”

“Exactly how I would have felt if Inspector Fellows had let you go to the gallows or back to the asylum,” Beth said softly.

“I never understood before. It’s like fear and hope, both warm and cold. All mixed together.”

“I know.”

He cupped his hands around her face. “But I don’t want to hurt you. I never, ever want to hurt you.”

“Ian, you aren’t your father. From what you and your brothers have told me, you’re nothing like him. You left Sally rather than hurt her. You protected Hart from Fellows, and you thought you were protecting Lily. Everything you’ve done is to try to help people, not harm them.”