Unforgivable(66)

“Oh yes?”

“It’s to do with my father.”

Gil went very still. Miles Davenport had not been spoken of by either of them for months, but still, the mere mention of him made Gil’s gut tighten. Words could not do justice to the level of antipathy he felt toward the man.

He glanced at Rose and saw she had noticed his reaction and was dismayed. He was sorry for that, but not so sorry he could hide his feelings.

“Papa is coming back to England,” she said.

Miles Davenport had been obliging enough to leave England mere weeks after Gil’s wedding to Rose, but Gil had always known he’d be back one day.

“When will he arrive?” he asked, and his calm voice was deceptive. Inside, he could feel all the pent-up anger he had against the man beginning to roil.

Rose took a deep breath. “His ship is expected to dock on Monday.”

“The day after tomorrow!”

“Yes.” She studied his left shoulder.

“How long have you known?”

Her cheeks pinkened, and she avoided his gaze. “Not long—I’m not supposed to know at all. It’s meant to be a surprise. Nev told me by mistake.”

“Oh, how lovely!” Gil bit out, his voice tight with fury. “Dear old Uncle Nev, eh?”

Rose looked wounded. “I thought you didn’t mind him visiting anymore?” she said. “You haven’t said anything about his calling on me.”

“Mind? Why should I mind a scoundrel with a reputation like his visiting my house and monopolising my wife?”

“He doesn’t monopolise me!” Rose protested, then added, “Oh, Gil, let’s not argue about Nev. He’s really not important.” She looked miserable, and Gil felt slightly guilty about his schoolboy jealousy, and for making this task that she’d probably dreaded even harder for her.

“Papa’s going to be staying with Nev to begin with—” she continued. She let the unspoken remainder of that sentence hang in the air hopefully. But Gil didn’t pick it up. He didn’t want Miles Davenport in this house. He just didn’t. He knew it would be considered very odd indeed if Miles did not stay with his daughter and her husband when he had no establishment of his own in town, but Gil really couldn’t bear the alternative. Making bland small talk with the man over his dining table. Trying to put on a show of amiability in front of the servants.

“That’s good,” he said firmly. “He’ll get on very well with Grayson. They’re old friends, after all.”

“Perhaps for a short visit, but I really do feel he should come to us for—”

“No, Rose.” His voice, when it emerged, was colder than he’d intended, and Rose stared at him, lips slightly parted, grey eyes troubled.

After a tense moment, she said, “You can’t mean that. He’s my father.”

Distantly, Gil was amazed that she wanted the man to stay here. After all, Gil was not the only one with reason to resent the man. Did it not occur to Rose that her father had acquired a husband for her in the worst way? That he had let her hitch herself to a man who was seething with anger and resentment and then waltzed off on his travels for five years, leaving her to sink or swim? The fact she had swum owed nothing to Miles Davenport. Or to himself, admittedly.

“I do mean it,” he said, more calmly. “It will be much better for your father to stay with Grayson.”

“Better for who? Not for me!”

“Yes. Better for you. And for everyone. If he stays here, we are bound to argue. I will not be able to stay silent about the past if he is here.”

When he saw the hurt expression his comment provoked, he almost asked her to ignore everything he’d just said. Almost.

“You cannot even try,” she whispered.

“You shouldn’t ask it of me,” he replied implacably. “It is not fair. Your father—what he did…”

She stared at him in silence for several beats, looking utterly defeated. “We’re never going to get past this,” she said at last, almost more to herself than to him. “I was stupid. I thought we could overcome it. I thought that eventually, given time, you could put the past aside, if I could.” She looked at him squarely. Her expression was an odd mix of anger and disappointment. “But you can’t, can you?”

Gil met her gaze and shook his head. “I can’t have him living here under my roof.”

“And I can’t not,” she replied flatly. “So where does that leave us?”

How could she not see what her father was? The man was an immoral, unfeeling cad who had shown about as much regard for his daughter as for a brood mare.