“A nonentity.”
She realized she was smiling. Which was odd. She’d never before managed to find any amusement in her disastrous engagement. “Compared to a volatile Celt, perhaps he is.”
“What happened?”
Thank goodness Lyle didn’t follow up on her betraying remark. The last thing she needed was him guessing how much she found about him to admire.
And he hadn’t even kissed her today.
“Ronald and I and our families established a private understanding at Easter, with the official announcement to take place at the Christmas ball. The wedding was set for the next Easter.” Her voice lowered, and Lyle’s grip on her hand tightened. She’d never spoken of these awful events. “But the engagement ended before autumn.”
“Did the numbskull jilt you?”
“He’s not a numbskull.”
“He must be if he had the chance to marry you and he botched it.”
She liked that Lyle was on her side. She wondered if once he heard the rest of the sorry tale, he’d remain so partisan. “I jilted him. There was a lot of local ill will as a result, as I’m sure you can imagine. Ronald’s mother hasn’t spoken to me since—and she was my mother’s best friend.”
“Did you love him?”
She shrugged. She picked up Lyle’s bad habits. “I thought I did. We had a lot in common. I certainly liked him, and I believe he liked me.”
“He must have.”
Guilt rose to choke her. It always did when she thought of how shamefully she’d treated Ronald. This was why she hated revisiting her brief engagement. Unable to sit still any longer, she surged to her feet, breaking Lyle’s hold.
“At least he liked me when I agreed to marry him. Once he decided to make me his wife, he also decided that I needed remodeling.”
“Did he, the devil?”
Staring down into Lyle’s glittering blue eyes, she had the strangest feeling that she didn’t need to tell him the rest. He already guessed what had happened. Somehow that made it easier to relate the string of woes that followed her acceptance of Ronald’s proposal. “I’m a headstrong, stubborn creature.”
Another flash of that fond, wry smile. “You don’t say.”
“Shocking, isn’t it?” This newfound ability to laugh at her broken betrothal was astonishing. “In many ways, my father brought me up as he’d bring up a son. Ronald knew my independent nature, even appreciated it in a childhood chum.”
“But not so much in a bride.”
“No, not so much in a bride,” she said in a subdued tone.
“And you say he’s not a numbskull? He found a lassie with brains and spirit, and tried to turn her into a cipher.”
“It wasn’t quite that bad,” she said, although looking back with more mature eyes, it had been that bad. She twisted her hands together. “And I did try to be what he wanted.”
“But you couldn’t sustain the act.”
She cast Lyle a grateful look. He did understand. “Before we were engaged, we never fought, but afterward, life was one constant quarrel. In his eyes, I could do nothing right.”
“Yet you broke it off, not him.”
“Yes. And nobody could see why. Papa accepted my decision—I have a funny feeling he never approved, although Ronald was frightfully eligible and the catch of the county. Ronald’s family never forgave me. The neighbors might accept my eccentricities with some good grace now, but back then, I was a pariah.”
“The blockhead would have taken you back, if you showed suitable contrition and promised lifelong obedience, I imagine.”
Surprised, she met his eyes. “How did you know?”
“I’m sure the poor bastard couldn’t help wanting your fire, even while it terrified the trousers off him. I bet he and…Frances, is it? I’ll wager every time he kisses Frances, he’s caught between gratitude for such a sweet wee wife, and regret that he lost his chance at claiming all your ardor.”