Again the Magic by Lisa Kleypas Page B

“She was bedridden for at least three months. Although she recovered in time, she… has never been quite the same.”
    His eyes narrowed. “What happened to her?”
    “I dare not tell you. The only reason I’ve mentioned it is that the illness has left her somewhat… fragile.”
    “In what way?”
    She shook her head decisively. “I cannot say.”
    McKenna sat back on his heels, staring at her. Calculating the most effective way to elicit the information he wanted, he made his voice gentle and coaxing. “You know you can trust me. I won’t tell anyone.”
    “Surely you wouldn’t ask me to break a promise,” Mrs. Faircloth chided.
    “Of course I would,” he said dryly. “I ask people to break promises all the time. And if they don’t, I make them sorry for it.” He rose to his feet in a fluid movement. “What do you mean, Lady Aline was ‘never the same’? She damned well looks the same to me.”
    “Profanity!” The housekeeper clicked her tongue reprovingly.
    Their gazes caught, and McKenna grinned suddenly as he thought of how many times he had received that same look from her in his boyhood. “Don’t tell me, then. I’ll get the truth from Lady Aline herself.”
    “I doubt that. And if I were you, I shouldn’t push her too far.” Mrs. Faircloth stood as well. “What a fine-looking man you have become,” she exclaimed. “Is there a wife waiting for you back in America? A sweetheart?”
    “No, thank God.” His grin faded, however, at her next words.
    “Ah…” Her tone was imbued with what could have been either pity or wonder. “It’s always been her, hasn’t it? That must be why you’ve come back.”
    McKenna scowled. “I’ve come back for business reasons, not the least of which is the likelihood that Westcliff will invest in the foundry. My presence here has nothing to do with Lady Aline — or a past that no one remembers.”
    “You remember it,” she said. “And so does she.”
    “I must go,” he said brusquely. “I have yet to find out if Westcliff will object to my presence here.”
    “I don’t believe that will be the case,” Mrs. Faircloth said at once. “Lord Westcliff is very much a gentleman. I expect he will offer you a gracious welcome, as he does to all his guests.”
    “Then he is remarkably
un
like his father,” McKenna said sardonically.
    “Yes. And I suspect you’ll get on quite well with him, as long as you give him no cause to fear that you might harm Lady Aline. She has suffered quite enough, without you adding to it.”
    “Suffered?” McKenna couldn’t restrain the contempt that curled through his tone. “I’ve seen real suffering, Mrs. Faircloth… people dying for lack of food and medicine… breaking their backs with hard labor… families wretched with poverty. Don’t try to claim that Aline has ever had to lift a finger for her own survival.”
    “That is narrow-minded of you, McKenna,” came her gentle rebuke. “It is true that the earl and his sisters suffer in different ways than we do, but their pain is still real. And it is not Lady Aline’s fault if you’ve had a difficult life, McKenna.”
    “Nor is it mine,” he said softly, while his blood boiled like a cauldron in hell.
    “Good heavens, what a diabolical look,” the housekeeper said softly. “What are you plotting, McKenna?”
    He divested his face of all expression. “Nothing at all.”
    She regarded him with patent disbelief. “If you intend to maltreat Lady Aline in some way, I warn you—”
    “No,” he interrupted gently. “I would never cause her harm, Mrs. Faircloth — you know what she once meant to me.”
    The housekeeper seemed to relax. And, turning away, she missed the dark smile that crossed his hard features.
    McKenna paused before reaching for the doorknob, and glanced back over his shoulder. “Mrs. Faircloth, tell me…”
    “Yes?”
    “Why is she still unmarried?”
    “That is for Lady Aline to explain.”
    “There must be a man,”