Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty

Sabrina’s parents appeared at the house on Hanover Square barely an hour later, their expressions fairly bursting with secret delight. A subdued Bea ushered them into the morning room, where Sabrina was sitting behind the delicate shield of her aunt’s writing desk. They rushed across the room to her, even her mother’s graceful gait marred by an exuberant bounce.

“Darling!”

“Ah, there’s my wee princess! We’ve missed you so!”

Sabrina turned her cheek to their kisses with cool aplomb as if it had been only hours since they’d parted instead of weeks. They exchanged knowing smiles, convinced her composure was a ruse.

After exchanging pleasantries about Alex and Brian and the spring planting at Cameron, her father cleared his throat and affected a stern expression.

He drew a folded document from his pocket. “I don’t have to tell you why we’ve come, lass. I’ve finally obtained your annulment papers.”

“Does it always take such a dreadfully long time to secure an annulment?” she asked him.

Her parents exchanged another guilty look, both mumbling something about, “constraints” and “extenuating circumstances.”

“At any rate,” her papa said heartily, snapping open the paper with a flourish. “All you have to do is sign above the magistrate’s seal and you’ll be rid of that nasty MacDonnell lad forever.”

He dangled it in front of her nose, obviously expecting her to refuse.

Sabrina snatched the paper from his hand and smoothed it on the desk. Her mother’s mouth fell open. An odd sound escaped Dougal, and Sabrina knew he was one syllable away from betraying himself. Without even bothering to read the document, she dipped a quill into the ink bottle and signed her name below the official seal with none of its usual embellishments. She sprinkled sand across her signature, shook the paper clean with a brisk motion, and handed it back.

“There. It’s done. May we leave now?”

“Leave,” her father repeated stupidly. His hand clenched around the paper as if he were resisting the urge to wad it into a ball. “Leave for where?”

Elizabeth plucked at her handkerchief, her expression bereft.

“Home,” Sabrina said. “Cameron. My bags are packed and in the corridor.”

“Aye, lass, whatever you say,” her father said vaguely. “We shall go now if that’s what you wish.” He turned away from the desk as if he could not bear to look at her, his steps weighted as if he’d aged ten years in ten minutes.

“Papa?” Sabrina held out her arms. “You’ll have to carry me. Don’t you remember? I can’t walk.”

At precisely two o’clock that afternoon, Morgan strode up the steps to the Belmont town house, forced to peer over the towering bouquet of hothouse roses in his hand. It had taken every ounce of his control to keep from coming earlier, but he felt such a momentous occasion required a touch of ceremony.

His eager knock was answered not by the butler, but by a freckled maid with red-rimmed eyes. She was too preoccupied to even comment upon the flowers.

“I’ll fetch His Grace right away, sir.” She dabbed at her nose with her apron as she led him into the entranceway. “I’m sorry. I must be a frightful mess. I once would have done anything to be rid of her. But now that she’s gone…” She dissolved into fresh sniffles.

Morgan didn’t want anyone to suffer today. “There now, lass. There’s no need to carry on so. I’m sure Miss Enid will come home for Christmas and the like. You should be happy for her now that her husband has returned from the dead. That baby of hers needs a father.”

“Oh, I am happy for Miss Enid, sir. I was referring to the young miss.”

“The young miss?” A chill of foreboding seized Morgan. He stopped in his tracks.

The maid kept walking. “Miss Sabrina, sir.”

Morgan dropped the roses. He strode after the maid, catching her by the shoulders and spinning her around. He searched her tear-stained face for a truth he was afraid to learn. “Sabrina? Sabrina’s gone? Where? When? How long?”

The maid trembled in his implacable grip. “Since her mum and dad came to take her back to Scotland.”

Morgan gave her a shake without meaning to. “When? How long? ”

“A few hours. Since about ten this morning.”

Conflicting emotions buffeted Morgan. Bewilderment. Fury. Despair. Was this yet another Cameron betrayal? But whose betrayal? Dougal’s or Sabrina’s?

The maid quailed before his fierce expression. He released her and stormed for the door, crushing the fallen roses beneath his heels.