Chapter 27

CHAPTER 27

Kate brushed her fingers against the back of her eyes as she strode down the hall to her parents in the morning room.

“I need one hour,” she declared.

“Pardon?” Her mother glanced up from an open book in her lap. She couldn’t remember her mother ever reading anything besides the gossip columns.

“I need one hour to pack, and then we can depart.”

“You’ve accepted the marquess’s pro?—?”

“I didn’t hear a proposal,” she interrupted her father. “No, we will not be marrying, but I will return to London with you, nevertheless.”

She held up her hand as her father’s face grew red, and he began to sputter. Her mother slammed the book shut, exasperated.

“It is a good match. You are making a grave mistake, Katherine. Again.”

“You can convince me in the carriage,” she called out over her shoulder, taking the stairs two at a time.

Nearly six hundred miles with her parents and the rake who ruined her. That was her own personal hell. But to be tossed aside so quickly…

Gabriel had been about to propose only a day earlier. But at the first sign she could leave, he accepted it and pushed her away. As if he had always expected it. Let him wallow. Let him stew and think of what it would be like to not have her in his life. And perhaps he would fight for what he truly wanted.

Always so afraid of others’ judgment.

Ben didn’t budge as she pushed through the door to her room. He remained curled in a ball on her bed, almost as if he were frozen in that position. His poor old bones twisted from the deep cold creeping in, summoning the first biting days of early winter.

What she would do in London once she returned, she wasn’t certain, but she knew she couldn’t remain in Scotland.

“Stay there, Ben.” She wrapped a blanket around the cat once more and scratched the top of his head. He opened one eye before falling asleep. “I knew you’d come around, you grumpy old cat. Tell them you enjoy a saucer of cream now and again.”

She glanced around her room, at the pictures the girls drew for her hanging on the walls, at the books piled beside her bed. Of the life she had made for herself that had so quickly fallen apart in front of her.

Kate tossed the trunk open and began packing her clothes, leaving behind the fine gowns Gabriel had purchased. She didn’t want to have those reminders of him. She didn’t know what she wanted if she were honest.

She was only seething mad.

When she had been tossed aside by the marquess, it was sadness and shame that consumed her. But what just happened with Gabriel? Only anger.

His own fears were preventing her from the life she wished for, even if she stumbled upon it. She loved this village and its people, life at the castle, and the girls…

Lorna and Maisie would be devastated.

And perhaps she was a coward because she didn’t wish to see Elsie. It would be far easier to slip away and send a letter apologizing for her quick departure than to seek everyone out and wish them a proper goodbye. And she didn’t wish to see Gabriel.

Or hear his voice .

Or feel his embrace one last time.

No, London. She would return and seek out Charlotte and Lily, finding comfort in those friendships. Perhaps she could still be who she was to them before she left for Scotland. Before she ventured out on her own and found that she was more than the outgoing, troublesome friend.

That she was capable.

Kate quickly changed into her navy carriage dress, repinned her hair, then slammed the lid to the trunk down, and packed a few items into her bag.

She dragged the trunk to the top of the stairs, then stopped, rushing into her room to remove the girls’ pictures, and packed those as well. Once they reached an inn, she would post a letter to them explaining why it was necessary for her to leave.

Then she ran down the castle stairs to the great hall, nearly plowing into the marquess, who reclined by the fire reading an old newspaper.

“My trunk is packed. Please bring it down so we may leave.”

“Isn’t there someone else available?”

“Here?” She shook her head. “Staff, you mean? No, not beyond Mrs. Malcolm, and I would like my belongings carried down the stairs, not thrown from the turret.”

“Problems of living in a castle,” he said with a shrug.

“Hugh.”

He snickered, then stood and stretched, that mischievous twinkle in his eye as always. Once, she would have nearly fainted at the sight of it directed at her. Once, she would have considered him a man and not someone hiding from the rest of the world.

But perhaps she only knew the truth now after having done so herself. And she didn’t wish to go back. That self-doubt was a numbing isolation she wished on no one.

“Have you considered my proposal, Kate?”

It would be a very long six-hundred-mile journey back to London.

“As you only expected me to accept your offer of marriage and not ask for it, I have not. Nor will I. My answer hasn’t changed from earlier, and I believe that is best for everyone involved.”

“Not for your employer.”

Her breath caught. “I don’t see how that is any of your concern.”

He edged closer, his eyes narrowing in on her. “It is when you won’t accept my offer of marriage.”

“Have you considered that I’m refusing on your own merit alone?”

“I was shot in that duel. I nearly died.”

She nodded, folding her hands in front of her. “So I have heard. My trunk, please, if you would be so kind.”

“Very well, I only ask you to hold your answer until we reach London.”

Kate bit back a quip about his intention of attempting to seduce her or sway her on their journey together. It made no difference. His charm had faded, and all that remained was a wild, pacing animal desperate to secure its future.

That was Hugh Nethercott, the Marquess of Brookhouse now. A lame wolf, cornered, and injured.

And she wouldn’t be swayed. She could have a kind heart without sacrificing her own.

Her mother bickered with her father in the front hall. Kate approached, adjusting her bonnet and pulling on her gloves.

“Are we ready to leave?”

Her father tapped his top hat over his thigh, assessing her. “I don’t understand why you will not marry the marquess. He is a good match.”

Lawd, this was all exhausting. She was leaving Scotland as asked, and still it wasn’t enough.

“As my father,” she said, dropping her voice low, “I hope that you wish me a happy marriage. I am beginning to suspect you need me to marry the marquess as much as he needs to marry me. I am only asking everyone to consider what I would like. And as I don’t wish to marry?—”

Her mother gasped. “Ever? ”

“At the present moment?” Kate asked, spinning to address her mother. “No.”

“With his title and our fortune, it would serve both families well.”

Her heart cracked a little further, recognizing no matter the outcome, standing by her own wishes would be deemed selfish. She couldn’t win this because there was never a question as to whether it would happen. Her parents and the marquess had deemed it so, and Kate, ever the good daughter, would agree.

Even if it took six hundred miles to convince her otherwise.

Hugh grumbled as he dragged her trunk down the stairs to rejoin them. “Is everyone ready to depart?”

Kate glanced behind her, taking in one last look.

It had been a grand adventure.

Hugh and her father sat opposite her on the bench in the carriage, both glaring and possessing a bitter disposition. Kate pretended not to notice and peered out the window, but she didn’t like seeing the castle fade behind her. It was too quick of a goodbye.

Upon leaving, Mrs. Malcolm had told her that Elsie and the girls were out for a walk, and though Kate was glad to have missed the awkward goodbye that would have ensued, she regretted leaving as she had.

“What a dismal place,” her mother said.

“I never travel past Edinburgh on principle,” her father grumbled.

The marquess only grinned at her, as if she had been bested. Bold, considering she wouldn’t marry him.

“I am thinking a spring wedding,” her mother continued.

“Yes,” her father agreed. “Spring would work. First, we must introduce you two together, perhaps at a ball. Maybe the duchess can help there. Someone should reach out to the gossip rags and share the story of how you were reunited. That would be best.”

Kate bit her lip, fighting back tears as the castle disappeared behind the forest line. The carriage rumbled forward, pulling her farther and farther away from the small slice of independence she had fought for, then allowed to slip away.

She had vowed never to be at the whim of a man again. After all, women didn’t owe men anything, even if they thought otherwise.

“I don’t wish to speak of a wedding yet,” Kate said, her voice trailing off and crumbling much like her heart. She should be stronger. She was the one who left, after all. Perhaps she hadn’t fought enough. Gabriel had so neatly dismissed her, and she had promptly listened.

“You must speak of the wedding,” her mother insisted. “There must be a plan when we return to London. If our families are to salvage our reputations and find a place in society once again, then it is of great importance that you and the marquess are united.”

“London will believe a redemption story, no doubt,” she said, not hiding the bitter note in her voice.

“I am changed, Miss Bancroft,” the marquess insisted.

How he could say so without denying the fact that he wore a smirk on his face, and he reclined into the corner of the carriage like a lazy panther waiting to pounce, was beyond her. She didn’t believe him. And the hope that London would be a fool’s errand.

“You will be happier in London, dear,” her father said. “I don’t see how you managed these past few months.”

“I managed very well,” she said.

“No doubt,” the marquess said slyly.

Kate did not care for carriage rides, especially long carriage rides, and now especially with smug marquesses. She doubted her mother would appreciate fisticuffs in such an enclosed space.

She drummed her gloved fingers over the top of her knee. “It would be best if everyone would remain silent. It is going to be a very long six hundred miles back to London.”

The others agreed, and a moment or two passed before the silence was too much to bear.

“I enjoyed my time here,” she said.

But that didn’t sound right either. It wasn’t as if she enjoyed every moment of her time in Scotland. But she had found something here that she had lacked her entire life. She had found a place to belong. And just as neatly as she had discovered it, she was leaving. Which was to say, messy. She arrived in Scotland lost and more than a little hopeless. It hadn’t been an easy adjustment, for she fled the castle at the first sign of trouble because she was too good of a daughter, and Gabriel was too caught up in his own fears.

The carriage rumbled through the sleepy village. Mrs. Stewart was out sweeping her stoop, and the soft glow from the inn washed across the quiet street.

She would miss that most of all. What could have been.

“Don’t mope,” her mother chastised.

“It’s not a quality men like to see in their women,” father commented. “Don’t you agree, my lord?”

“I suppose it depends. Some moping might be appropriate from time to time,” he answered judiciously.

“We will need to visit the modiste when we return for a wedding gown.”

Her father whacked his knee as if struck by genius. “Perhaps a special license. Instead of a spring wedding, it might be best to hurry along the nuptials.”

“That may encourage rumors, dear, as Kate has been away from Town for some time.”

She was sitting right there, and they talked as if she were nothing but a pawn piece. Had they ever seen her and truly loved her, or had she always been a means to an end?

“I don’t wish to marry the marquess.” Kate cleared her throat, determined to force out the uncertainty. “Are you implying some may think I went away to have a child?”

“It is said the marquess has several already out of wedlock.”

Hugh scoffed, scratching his cheek and avoiding Kate’s commiserating stare. “I believe the current rumor is three illegitimate children. That’s fewer than several.”

“Mother, the importance there is the word rumored. It doesn’t mean something is true. You do know I came to Scotland to fill a governess position that my father’s cousin wrote to me about? ”

“Yes, but a governess? Our family is well beyond means to ever consider such a fate for you. It was you who did that to yourself.”

“It wasn’t an imposition. I enjoyed my time…”

Her mother flipped through a small notebook, perhaps one of addresses. “You are not maternal, dear. No offense.” The utter disinterest in her voice was enough to make Kate want to scream. “You will need an army of nannies and nursemaids when you do have children.”

“Stop the carriage!”

Her mother reached out and grabbed her hand, clutching her fingers tight. “Do not scream, Katherine. My nerves.”

Her father bristled. “We will not be stopping.”

But Kate pressed her face against the window, certain she saw something off to the side of the road as the village faded from view.

“Father, please. I see something. Stop the?—”

The driver cried out to the horses, and the carriage slowly came to a stop. Kate reached for the door, but her father swatted her hand away.

“Whatever it is, the driver will see to it. Ladies must remain inside the carriage.”

But something didn’t sit well with her. It appeared as if someone was slumped against the gnarled oak tree almost barren of its leaves.

“Katherine, sit back,” her mother snapped. “Let your father handle it.”

Her father? The same man who suddenly seemed interested in his boots.

For most of her life, she had done as she was told and behaved, more often than not at least, as she should. She reached for the door and sprang out of the carriage, not looking back, even as she felt the marquess tug at her skirts. Especially not as she saw the body on the ground wearing the familiar MacInnes tartan shawl.

Her fingers went cold, and a sour taste filled her mouth. She swallowed, ripping her skirts free from the marquess.

“Elsie!” she screamed, sprinting through the long grass. The ground was uneven, and she stumbled, pushing up to her feet once more, her eyes fixed on her fallen friend .

Something was wrong, very wrong.

“Elsie, wake up. Wake up, now.”

Kate grabbed Elsie’s shoulders and turned her, noticing the bloody gash at the side of her head and the rag tied to her mouth.

“Help,” she screamed at the marquess. Kate scanned the forest, certain she saw something move.

“Don’t move her, Kate. Leave her still.”

“Don’t—”

The small toes of a worn boot poked up through the grass, then a smaller boot smudged with blue paint. The girls! Kate crawled over to discover Lorna and Maisie tied up as well, crying and gagged but unharmed as far as she could tell.

“All right, girls,” she said, trying to speak as calmly as she could. Her heart hammered in her chest. She reached for the ties and removed both from the girls as the marquess remained with Elsie, speaking to her softly, but she was still unconscious.

“Who did this to you?”

The girls clung to her, warm salty tears racing down her throat as she sobbed. “You’re well, you’re well. Everything will be fine. Let’s return to Dunsmuir.”

“Och, now I told ye no’ so long ago, English, ye’re to help me. And did ye?”

Duncan McQuarrie moved through the trees and stood in the tall grass, his hand at his waist, revealing the knife strapped there.

“And didna I say ye’re never to say nae to me?”

“Let them go, you odious devil.” She gripped the girls tighter, pulling their heads against her chest to protect them.

“I thought about burning down the inn for good, ye see. But that isna goin’ to stop Gabriel now. He canna open a legitimate distillery. So when yer parents arrived last evening, I kent he’d be distracted. I posted a man at the castle, who told me Miss MacInnes was out for a walk with her nieces. And then yer carriage left. It was too good to pass up.”

“Leave Elsie and the girls alone. They haven’t done anything.”

The marquess stood .

“Ye’re goin’ to stop movin’ now.” Duncan unsheathed the blade and pointed it toward Hugh. “Or I’ll run ye through with my blade here. I dinna like the English. No loss to me.”

“You don’t need to threaten the woman or the children, sir.”

Duncan scoffed. “Last chance, lass.”

She spun and pushed the girls away. “You don’t scare me. And you don’t scare Gabriel.”

“Take them!” Duncan sneered.

She spun around, shielding the girls as the marquess threw a punch at one of the men barreling at him from the forest’s edge.

And then a hand reached around her wrist and tightened in a crushing grip, hauling her forward. She stumbled, tripping over a stone in the field. Kate looked over her shoulder, her heart drumming in her ears as she willed her body to move faster.

He wouldn’t touch those girls.

No more harm would come to Elsie.

She sent her elbow back into the face of one of Duncan’s men, hearing the satisfying crunch of bone until a boot plowed into her hip, and she collided hard onto the ground. She clawed at the earth as she was dragged backward.

“Nae one tells me nae, lass. He’ll stop if I kill ye.”