He grew irritated at her martyrdom and seized both wrists. Taking her left hand, he gripped her palm so that the wedding ring pressed into her skin. “I don’t understand why you’re so angry with me. What did I ever do to you? Besides marry you, if that indeed happened.”

“You promised to look after my brother when you left for London. But Daniel’s creditors killed him while you were away.” Tears burned in her eyes, and she added, “He bled to death.”

Emily tried to break free of his grasp, but he refused to let go. “Do you truly believe I would let a man die if I had the power to stop it?”

“I don’t know,” she murmured. Even so, doubts clouded her face.

Stephen moved closer, hoping to unravel the truth. But when his hand slipped around her waist, he saw the genuine grief in her eyes. Beneath the bombazine, the heat of her skin warmed his palm. His fingers touched one of the tiny buttons upon her gown, toying with it. “I don’t have any memory of what happened, Emily. I need to know.”

“There were…men who brought Daniel’s body to me.” Her voice was broken as he rested his hand upon her back. “At his home, not at Falkirk.”

He wondered why she hadn’t been staying here. “And who were these men?” His hand moved up her spine, tracing the dozens of tiny buttons until he reached one at the nape of her neck. With the flick of a thumb, he revealed a bit of skin. He wanted to gauge her reaction.

“I—I don’t know,” she stammered. “I thought they were your solicitors or from your father. They were looking for you.”

“Why?”

Her hand clamped over his when he grazed her skin. “Please don’t touch me.”

He ignored her, loosening another button. “Why not? You said we are married, did you not?” He was trying to determine whether there had been anything at all between them. More and more, he was starting to believe she had lied about their union.

“Because you don’t really want me. You only want answers I don’t have.”

A sudden flash of memory took hold. Emily stood before the fireplace in his bedchamber at Falkirk, her hair hanging down. Her fingers moved to unbutton his frockcoat, and her face was flushed with desire.

He dropped his hand away from her when the fleeting vision faded. Where had it come from? Was it real? Had they been lovers? Frustration clawed at his mind when the emptiness returned.

He leaned in close, so his face nearly touched hers. “Tell me why I married you.” With her so near, he could smell the fragrance of vanilla. Her clear eyes were confused, her cheeks pale.