After the Wedding (The Worth Saga #2)(36)

She turned to look at him. Her eyebrows rose in something that could have been encouragement. He decided to take it as such.

“Too trusting,” he told her. “That’s what my brother Grayson tells me, and maybe he’s right. When we were children, he convinced me once that chocolate was made with mud.”

That won a tentative smile. “You didn’t believe that, did you?”

“I’m not that gullible.” He turned to her as much as he could without losing sight of the road. “Um. Not any longer, at least. I learned my lesson. But here’s the thing about being too trusting—I don’t know what to look for when people are lying to me, and that means I don’t know how to evaluate my own lies.”

“Your eyes,” she told him. “They give it all away.”

“My eyes?”

“Yes. You look up and to the right. As if you’re so disgusted with yourself that you can’t help but roll your eyes at your own words.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “I do not!”

“You do. You really do.”

“You see?” Adrian bit back a smile. “I told you that you were a tiger.”

“Oh, am I?”

“You see, tigers are patient. Some predators, if they are discovered, give up and go on to new prey. Tigers pretend to give up and then circle back and try again and again and again. You could have let Mrs. Martin throw us out. You saved everything.”

She made a face. “Where are you getting these tiger facts?”

“Did you see my eyes go up and to the right?” he countered.

“Well, no. But—”

“Then it’s true.”

“I don’t think it works like that.” But she was biting back a smile for now.

They lapsed into silence once more, the only sound that of the carriage wheels rattling over rutted roads. This quiet felt slightly more comfortable than the preceding one. Still, Adrian waited another mile before speaking again.

“You know, tigress. I keep expecting you to tell me that I’m not trusting enough.”

“Why would I say such a thing?”

“I’ve told you to leave matters to me twice, and twice you’ve had to rescue yourself from the tangle my lies made,” he said simply. “I should have trusted you more, not less. I will endeavor to do so in the future.”

She looked down. A blush painted her cheeks—small, but completely crimson. Her eyes squeezed shut. “Mr. Hunter.” She sounded pained. “I hate to be the one to bring this to your attention, but…you are wrong. You should trust me less.”

“Why?”

“You keep talking about an annulment.” Miss Winters wrapped her arms about herself. “I don’t know much about those. But isn’t a physical examination of the woman a part of it? To see if she’s…?”

There was no Mrs. Martin present to fill in the indelicate word the moment required.

“Yes,” Adrian said. “Technically, there is.”

“‘If you have to put the word technically in front of the truth…’” Miss Winters quoted at him. “You should be angrier. I’m telling you, I won’t pass that examination.”

“You do know they can’t actually tell, right?”

She looked over at him. “But—”

“Some women have a hymen until they lose their virginity. Some do not. Some have theirs torn by intercourse; others don’t. Sometimes tears repair themselves; sometimes they don’t.”

She stared at him.

“I’m serious,” he said. “You’ve seen me when I lie. Do I look like I’m lying to you? I told you, I served as my uncle’s amanuensis for a while. He talked to a doctor about this very thing in my presence. They don’t actually know if anyone’s a virgin. They just guess. And if we both swear we haven’t had intercourse, if we have witnesses to our character—”

Her face fell once more. Ah. Right.

“In any event,” he said, “it won’t matter. Have you been worrying about that?”

“I’ve scarcely had time to worry about anything, to be honest. It’s all happened so fast.” She bit her lip and looked away to the passing fields. “Talking to Mrs. Martin about what happened was hard enough. I don’t want to have to think of it again, not now. Everything’s over and done with. Can we focus instead on what lies ahead?”

“Of course.”

She inhaled, and it was as if the breath gave her sustenance. She turned to him with a smile.

“Well, then. I have an excellent memory—it is one of my few talents. We now know that Mrs. Martin donated money to the parish for a purpose. She does not believe that purpose was fulfilled.”

“That’s not wrongdoing.”

“No.” She tapped her lip with a single gloved finger, thinking. “But if they absconded with the money altogether it would be, yes? Maybe…we could prove that there are no funds available for the purposes Mrs. Martin intended.”

“How?” he started to ask, and then realized. “Of course. We need to have someone apply for assistance—a woman who has been…ah, harmed by a man? We could find someone to pretend—”

She made a disbelieving noise. “Mr. Hunter.” There was a tone of amusement in her voice. “Haven’t we learned that lesson already? Enough with the pretending.”