When a Scot Loves a Lady (46 page)

“And Cox?”

She turned her face away. “Before meeting you, I was desperate, afraid to tell my parents I was increasing. Only James knew, and he had abandoned me. David said beautiful things to me, that he would protect me and care for me. I was heartbroken. I went with him, but he insisted we not tell anyone, though I begged. That same week you started courting me, admiring me so greatly. I think he saw opportunity. You had a fortune and are to be a duke—”

“
Cornelia
.”

She fell silent, staring at him with wide eyes. He passed his hand across his face.
It could not be
. But it
was
.

“Have you proof of your wedding other than the inscription on the cameo?”

“I kept the receipt of payment from the blacksmith who performed the ceremony. And it has not been very long since then, after all. I think I would recognize the witnesses if they were before me. David has never had any money, so I don't believe he could have bribed them to maintain their silence, even now. He wanted to blackmail you, but I don't know that he thought he would be able to do so for long. I don't think he thought it out clearly at all. He is very impetuous, and always believing that others seek to harm him.”

He crossed the chamber and as gently as his racing pulse allowed, grasped her arms and looked down at her.

“We are not married.
We are not married
,” he repeated for good measure and because his life had abruptly begun again.

She shook her head. “We never were.” Then she whispered, “What will you do with Jamie?”

Amid the euphoria expanding in him, regret sliced.

“Keep him, if you will allow me. Even if you will not. He is my blood. It cannot be helped that he must learn of your marriage, but he needn't know he is not mine. And I will treat him as my son, Cornelia. I could not do otherwise.”

Her head bobbed. She reached up and set a small hand atop his. “Leam, I beg your forgiveness for what I have done to you. What I did. It is as though an enormous weight has lifted from me now, having told you all.”

He released her. “Where is Cox now?”

“I don't know. This morning he came and was very agitated. He said something about returning to Shropshire, but—”

“I am going after him now. He has committed crimes and must be punished for them. The truth will have to be revealed publicly.”

She nodded. Then she looked away, pressing the linen to her lips once more.

“Cornelia, do your parents know of your real marriage?”

She shook her head.

“I can help you.”

“After all I have done to you? No. I deserve whatever I will suffer now.” She lifted her gaze again. “You needn't worry about me. After all, you have another lady to worry about now, I think.”

He could only hope. And pray. And wish upon every star in the heavens.

“Good-bye, Cornelia.”

“Good-bye, Leam. Write to me of my son, if you will, occasionally. I should like to hear of him.”

He departed.

The day had advanced, and his quick breaths turned to smoke in the cold. But the sky without was pale and low, the glow of the lowering sun fighting early spring clouds laden with uncertain rain. Leam mounted his horse and set off. For Shropshire. To chase down a man bent on harm. And to seek out a lady worth more than the stars and sky combined.

H
e found Cox just shy of Bridgnorth in the taproom of a farmers' tavern. It had not been difficult tracking him. At each stop for food and bed, Cox had left his bills unpaid.

Leam crossed the room.

Cox caught sight of him, and his face turned ashen.

It was certainly an exaggeration to claim—as some did later to others not present at the event—that just as the late-winter sun was setting on the Severn nearby, a barbarian of a Scot that none in the place could understand stormed in, threw about chairs until at least five were ruined and another three badly splintered, then proceeded to do more or less the same to a smartly dressed gentleman from Londontown who hadn't been bothering a soul.

That the Scotsman, while standing over his bleeding, broken prey, had the effrontery to demand a magistrate be summoned also received poor press from the locals. But, after the magistrate arrived, heard all, and departed with both strangers, then returned alone some hours later to explain that the brute was in fact heir to a duke, and the pretty fellow a low character by any standards, some were willing to reconsider their opinion on the matter. When in due course it became known that the duke's heir was already an earl, and not only paid the tavern keep for the destruction to his property but also left a pile of guineas to be spent on ale for everyone he had bothered in the dust-up, forgiveness flowed like said ale throughout the pub.

What was the good in being a grand lord, after all, if a fellow couldn't have a right rowdy knock-around with a scoundrel every now and again?

“T
he ass made the noises all the night yesterday. I am—how do you say?—exhausted!
Et toi, belle
Katrine?” The Frenchwoman laid her hand gloved in fingerless black lace on Kitty's knee and tut-tutted. “You must go up to the sleep
tout de suite
.”

Kitty flipped a page in her book and tried to focus. “Not yet. I have a bit more to read, then I will turn in.” And remain awake staring at the ceiling beneath which she had made love to a barbaric Scot, this time with her nerves strained in fear and anticipation.

She should not have done this. It was unpardonably rash. Either Mr. Cox would never arrive and she would waste away waiting for him in a tiny Shropshire inn with a French widow as her only companion, other than a little boy and a pair of the most solicitous innkeepers she had ever met, due to Madame Roche informing them of Kitty's delicate condition. Or Mr. Cox
would
arrive and she would be in serious danger.

Madame Roche stood. “Good night, then,
ma belle
.” Kitty watched her mount the stairs, somewhat bemused as always by the woman. But the widow had begun to call her
ma belle
as she called Emily
ma petite
. During this journey Kitty had apparently become one of her charges. That suited her. She would need friends in the coming months while she determined what to do with her life that was to change rather dramatically.

The front door rattled against its bolts. Kitty's heart leaped. She stood, every nerve stretched. A heavy knock sounded on the panel. Mr. Milch came from the kitchen. He shook his head as he moved toward the foyer.

“Now don't you be worrying yourself over this, my lady. We won't be inviting in anybody we don't know.”

She nodded. It was an inn, for pity's sake, yet he had cleared out the whole place for her and her traveling companion so she could wait upon a man who might never show. But she had a cameo portrait of an angelically lovely lady in her pocket to prove that if Mr. Cox had seen the pamphlet he must at least be on his way now.

From where she stood in the center of the sitting room, she heard Mr. Milch snap open the lock on the peek window.

“Well, now, good evening, sir! Welcome back.”

The bolts on the door clanked, Kitty's palms went damp, and the door creaked open. It could not be Mr. Cox. A gust of wind smelling of snow caught up the flames in the hearth. Boots sounded in the foyer, then the new arrival's voice, deep and familiar.

“I trust you are well, Milch?”

Her knees turned to porridge. There was nothing for it but to grasp the back of the chair for support and hope she did not collapse.

“I am, my lord. My good wife too. There's to be snow tonight, by the looks of it.” The door thumped shut.

“Tell me at once if you will, has Lady Katherine returned here of late?”

“She's just within, sir. I'll take your coat now.”

Boot steps, and he came through the door. He halted.

“
Kitty
.” Her name was a mere breath. His shoulders seemed to settle as he scanned her face, then all of her from neck to toe, then her face once more. Mr. Milch crossed the chamber to the kitchen and out, and Kitty drank in the sight of the man she loved.

“Hello, Leam.” She folded her hands in a vain attempt to still their mad trembling. “What brings you to Shropshire?”

Remarkably, he laughed. “I suppose I should say the fishing.” He smiled, and everything inside her fused together into one messy heap of honey. “But instead I shall tell the truth. You brought me, of course.”

“Then did you see Lady Justice's pamphlet, or speak with my servants?”

“Kitty, Cox is apprehended. I left him in a magistrate's jail not thirty miles from here.”

She clutched the sofa harder. “Then he was the one? Oh, I am relieved.”

His gaze seemed quite warm. “How did you discover the business with the cameo?”

“Ned had it on Christmas Eve. He said he'd found it months earlier on the road.”

“And you doubted his word so much that you connected it to Cox, then to me?” His beautiful mouth still hinted at a smile.

“Well, yes. And no. At the time I thought it strange how Mr. Cox had been so friendly with you at first, then decidedly less so later. Also anxious. Then that day at the park—” For the first time in days her throat was thick with tears. Being so near him, alone in this place where she had fallen in love with him, was not conducive to her well-being. “She is very beautiful and I thought I had seen her before. Then I remembered Ned's cameo and realized how I recognized her. When you told me Mr. Cox had lost something valuable and believed you had it, it all seemed to make sense, although I am not certain it should have. But I felt I had to do something and you could not find him, so I sent the letter to Lady Justice hoping that she would print it and he would see it and show himself. Really, I never imagined it would all work out.” But it had given her another excuse to flee.

He shook his head slowly, then took a deep breath and opened his mouth. But she could not allow him to speak and say things she would remember forever, such as he thought her wonderfully clever.

“It was to my advantage to rout him out,” she said quickly, “but I am glad you did because I honestly don't know what I would have done except try to blackmail him if he had come here. But I am not a blackmailer by nature. A snitch, certainly, but—”

“Kitty, I am not leaving here tonight. You cannot talk me gone from this place no matter how you go on.”

“I was merely explaining. And you did ask. Yesterday Ned admitted to me that Hermes found it out by the stable and brought it to him the night of the storm.” Beneath his intimate gaze, the familiar ache of longing wound its way around her so tightly it stole her breath, wonderful and awful at once. “What did Mr. Cox want of her cameo?”

“He kept it to ensure he could extort money from me through her. When he lost it, he became somewhat unglued, it seems. Thus the shooting and threats.”

“That is nonsensical.”

His eyes intensified. “Did you read the inscription on the back?”

“No.” She reached into her pocket for the trinket. It felt like tiny knives every time she touched it. She flipped it over.

Her breaths stuttered.

“I—I do not understand. Did—did he divorce her before she married you?”

“He never divorced her. They are still married, as they were when she and I said our vows.”

Kitty's heart slammed against her lungs.

“Oh, Leam,” she breathed. “I am sorry.”

His eyes widened. “You are
sorry
?”

“Yes,
I
am sorry this time. So very sorry for you, and for your son of course.” And miserable again in a manner she could never have anticipated. Euphorically miserable. She suspected what was to come next. She wanted it more than life, yet she could not bear it. “Here.” She went forward and placed the cameo on the table, then moved away from it. “You must wish at least to have this.”

“I've no wish whatsoever to have it.”

“But—”

“Kitty, marry me.”

For the second time in as many months, her palm met her nose and she could not seem to detach it. “Oh. That was abrupt.”

Through her fingers she saw him swallow jerkily.

“That is not precisely how I hoped you would respond.” His voice was tight. “Is that a no? Do you wish, after all, to remain unwed?”

Kitty's hand slid from her face to her constricted throat. “No,” she whispered. “Not remotely. But—but…”

“But perhaps you have another offer, or simply wish to await one from another quarter.”

“No. I have no such offers or wishes.” She must say it aloud, no matter how painful. “But your feelings for her, Leam—I cannot compete with that. Before, it was imaginable, but now that she is actually still
alive
…” Perhaps it was too painful to say after all.

Incomprehension shifted across his features. Then, abruptly, understanding.