The Many Sins Of Lord Cameron (MacKenzies & McBrides #3)(69)
Author: Jennifer Ashley

At that endeavor, Cameron knew he’d already far surpassed his own father.

Ainsley found the house emptier without Daniel, but Cameron now stayed all night every night with her, which meant that Ainsley got very little sleep. He’d wake her in the morning with loving, and they’d separate, sandy-eyed to their morning activities.

Cameron was unhappy about the loss of Jasmine, Ainsley could see, although he told her adamantly when she brought it up that it didn’t matter. He had plenty of other horses that would do well, and Chance’s Daughter would probably win the five top races of the year.

Ainsley wished Cameron could make his peace with Lord Pierson—or rather, that Lord Pierson wouldn’t be such a pompous fool. Jasmine was the suffering for their quarrel, and Ainsley’s heart went out to her.

But Ainsley had ideas for solving the problem. Legally of course. She wrote to her brother Steven, hoping to recruit him, but Steven replied that he couldn’t get leave from his regiment. Sinclair was too busy with his practice, Elliot was out of reach in India, of course, and Patrick . . .

Hmm, perhaps Patrick would do very nicely.

Before Ainsley could put any plans in motion, however, a telegram came to jolt her out of the new and pleasant hum of her life.

Chapter 26

Cameron walked in while Ainsley was packing. Her upstairs rooms were a mess of boxes and bags, the maids hurrying in and out with articles of clothing. Ainsley had known she’d have to confront Cameron sooner or later, but she’d rather hoped his training would keep him out of doors a little longer.

She took the telegram from her pocket and thrust it at him. “Before you ask, this is what it’s all about.”

Cameron’s eyes flickered as he read the words. Mr. Brown is gone. Come to me at once.

“Brown?” Cameron rumbled. “He’s dead?”

“Apparently.” Ainsley stopped a maid. “No, not the blue. I need the gray and the black. The queen will expect me in mourning.”

Cameron held the telegram between two fingers. “Why does she want you? She must have other ladies who can hold her hand.”

“She confided deeply in me about John Brown, how fond she was of him. He saved her life, really. I understand what she’s feeling.”

“What I mean, Ainsley, is why the devil are you going?”

“It won’t be for long,” Ainsley said. “A few weeks, maybe a month.”

“No.” The word burst out of Cameron, and Ainsley looked at him in surprise. “A month is far too long.”

“It will give me a chance to finish a few things I left hanging. To make a clean end of them.”

“What things?”

“Things from my old life. I packed and left rather abruptly, as you know, once I’d made up my mind to.”

Cameron slapped his hand to her open trunk lid, and the thing clattered shut. The maid looked startled then discreetly faded out the door.

“The queen has a houseful of servants and ladies at her beck and call,” Cameron said. “Why should you go?”

Ainsley had seen Victoria grieve before, how ill she made herself with it. The queen was a robust woman, but she did not handle loss very well. She loved hard and she grieved hard, rather like Cameron in that respect.

“I had another telegram, from one of her ladies,” Ainsley said. “The queen can’t walk, is unable even to rise from her chair. If I can ease some of that, if I can help her again, take my leave of her as friends, then I can return here and begin my life.”

“Begin your life? What the devil have you been living these past five months?”

“Please, Cam, this is important. She needs me.”

“Damn it all, I need you!”

Ainsley watched him in silence. Cameron held himself rigidly, fists clenched in dusty gloves.

“Cam,” Ainsley said. “I’ll come back.”

“Will you?” The words were bitter.

“Of course. We’re married.”

“Is that all?”

“That’s rather a lot, to me.”

Cameron knew she didn’t understand. Her gray eyes were still, hands halted in the act of folding a shawl. The shawl complemented her, silver and satiny, dripping down her arms the same way her hair slid over Cameron’s body when they made love.

Ainsley was leaving—Cameron losing her. The very thought made him break into a cold sweat.

“By the time I return, Daniel will have come home for his short holiday,” Ainsley said. “We’ll be a family again.”

A family. Again. She sounded so certain, as though everything were simple. Cameron and Daniel had only ever been tense satellites circling each other, and they had both known it. Until Ainsley. Daniel had tried at every turn to shove Ainsley into Cameron’s life, had turned up to winter with them, to make sure his father and Ainsley stuck it out. Now Daniel had gone, believing that everything was well.

“You won’t come back,” Cameron said.

“Yes, I will. I’ve just said.”

“You’ll intend to. But the queen will get her clutches into you, drag you back into her world, where she is the sun and the moon. She doesn’t like the Mackenzies, and she’ll do whatever she can to get you away from us.”

Ainsley looked puzzled. “The queen takes your advice on horses. You even turned up at Balmoral to speak to her about it.”

“Because she wants her horses to win. That doesn’t mean she likes or even respects me. Victoria knew my mother, thought her a fool for putting up with my father. She pitied my mother and despised her at the same time. She thinks Mackenzie sons are cut from the same cloth as the father, and she’s not far from wrong.”

“She is wrong. I know that. Isabella told me about your father. He sounds horrible.”

“But he’s here.” Cameron pressed his chest. “He’s in here. The bully who beat us, who killed my mother, who locked Ian away in an asylum—he’s in here with me. He’s in all of us. You might have noticed that my family is not exactly sane.”

She gave him her little smile. “Eccentric, certainly.”

“Stark, raving mad. I ease the madness with the horses, but between seasons, I barely keep it contained. Until this year, with you. Instead of drinking and sexing until I couldn’t remember which day was which, I strolled in parks and went to museums and to gardens, for God’s sake. I watched you and Daniel discuss the virtues of pastries and play draughts together on rainy evenings. My friends in Monte Carlo told me I’d gone domestic, and I laughed, because I didn’t care.”