“No.” He shook his head. “No, damn it. I did not kill anyone.”
“I didn’t think so.”
His heart came to a standstill. He had to stop and process the words for a few moments. They were simple and softly spoken.
She could have no idea how much they meant to him.
“You didn’t think so?”
“No.”
“Ivy?” He put a hand to her knitting, and she finally looked at him properly. He saw no lie or hesitation in her gaze. “You didn’t think so?”
“I have been your wife for some time now and whilst I cannot claim to know everything about you, I do not think you capable of killing someone.”
“I’m not,” he said with more aggression than he intended.
“So will you at least explain what is happening? Why is that man telling me you did, and why does he hate you so?”
Cillian adjusted his eye patch. It had been so long since he’d talked about this. What was the point when no one believe him?
“I deserve the truth, Cillian.”
He nodded and took a deep breath. “We knew each other. Many years ago. Mere acquaintances really. His father was friends with my uncle.”
She remained silent, waiting. His heart pounded so fiercely he could feel his pulse in his fingertips.
“But we were also both friends with Mary. She came to Bath when we were nineteen.” He shook his head and smiled. “She was the first woman to even look at me let alone talk to me.”
“That cannot be.”
“When my mother and I came from Ireland after the death of my father, we relied upon my uncle’s charity. We lived in a small house on this very estate. But whether it was because of us being Irish or...well...” He gestured to himself, “this...people did not take to us. Most especially me.”
“But you hadn’t suffered your injury yet.”
“Trust me, Ivy, I wasn’t much better looking when I was younger. Too make matters worse, I didn’t much understand how to be around people, especially English people. That’s why it always surprised me, Mary even wanted to talk to me let alone liked me.”
“You’re a handsome man,” she said softly. “I can see why she’d like you.”
“She also liked Marshall.” He shrugged. “Maybe even loved him but before long, everything changed.”
“How so?”
“He became possessive and angry. He hated that Mary and I even spent time together.”
His mouth dried as he considered his next words. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d spoken about Mary aloud. After running away to join the military, he had tried to put it all to the back of his mind.
“Mary was a sweet soul. In a way, you remind me of her.” He smiled slightly. “She never judged anyone, not even me, and I was not always the best of company.”
“What happened to her?”
He bunched his fists and pressed a breath through his nostrils. “Marshall killed her.”
She ceased knitting entirely. “But he loved her!”
“I was out of town when she vanished. Marshall was quick to ensure the blame was put at my feet, but I knew the truth. He couldn’t stand our friendship and killed her in a fit of rage.”
“He said you killed her.”