Chapter Fourteen

W hy, indeed? Malcolm couldn’t explain his actions to himself, how was he supposed to explain them to Lizzie as she looked up at him with her big brown eyes and naught but expectation shining bright within their depths.

Och, how his best friends would laugh at him now and the predicament he found himself in.

He feared that after they got to Tolton Hall this evening and he uncovered the truth, finally, that he would have to give up his investigative work forever. For most certainly he had failed on this mission. He’d kenned it before they even left Twynholm, he just didn’t want to admit it to himself.

Lizzie had caught his attention from the first moment their eyes had met from across the hall, and he had been unable to shake the grip she had on him since.

Hell, he’d get down on his damned knee right now and propose to the lass if he could.

But he couldn’t. Right now she was infatuated with him. But she didn’t ken him. Didn’t ken his past. What he’d done. The life he lived before. The number of lasses he’d bedded and then left in the morning so as not to give them any inclination that he had any interest that went further than the hours they’d shared the night before. He’d ruined so many lasses and it never bothered him.

Until Lizzie. The mere thought of taking her innocence for a night of heaven and then walking away, seemed like the worst thing he could do. The thought actually made him sick. And that was why he was wondering what the hell was the matter with him.

“My lord?” Lizzie placed a small hand on his arm, bringing him back to the present, and without thinking, he placed his hand on hers, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles in a gentle caress.

He kenned Mary was watching them. That she could see what they were doing, and he cared naught.

And that was why, right there, in the middle of the street, for anyone to see, he tugged on Lizzie’s hand, pulling her close, and captured her mouth to his.

For the briefest of moments, she stiffened in surprise, but then melted into his arms.

The kiss was deep. Passionate. And if they weren’t in the middle of the street, he would find himself in much the same predicament that he had last night. Thankfully, the bustle of the streets around them kept his actions in check from going any further. But he also kenned, just kissing her in such a public place was putting her reputation at risk.

He broke the kiss, and Lizzie sighed as she looked at him with hooded eyes and flushed cheeks.

“I have been wanting to do that since ye opened your door, Lass.”

She bit her bottom lip and then burst out in laughter. It was contagious, and he soon followed suit. Soon, they were both laughing maniacally in the street and people passing by were giving them odd looks and a wide clearance.

Mary rushed forth. “Sir!” She called. “Miss!” She had her skirts in her fists as she ran towards them. “What are ye doing?” She questioned when she stopped in front of them, her chest heaving. “My lord, pardon me for saying, but that was most improper. And in front of e’eryone no less. Are ye trying to ruin her reputation?”

Beside him, Lizzie giggled. “Mary, cease. We are fine.”

“Ye arena. No’ at all. Your parents—”

“Willna ken,” Lizzie interjected, her voice authoritative. “Unless I want them to, and at this time I am uncertain of that. ’Twas just a kiss. Is that no’ right, my lord?” she asked, looking at him innocently, batting her long lashes.

He cleared his throat and straightened. “No disrespect was meant, Mary. I assure ye.”

Did the lass really mean it was just a kiss? Or was she saying that for Mary’s sake? Once again, he questioned his sleuthing skills, because he couldn’t deduce whether Lizzie was being genuine or not. Lord help him.

“The hour grows late. Let us continue our journey and we’ll make it to Tolton Hall by late afternoon.”

Lizzie’s demeanor changed at the mention of her home. “Are ye no’ excited to go home, Lass?” He bent and whispered close to her ear, the temptation to dare nip her lobe with his teeth strong.

She shrugged her shoulders as they walked toward the carriage. “I am. I do miss my parents, but no’ the wrath I will face once they find out what I have done. Also, I’ll be happy to prove to ye that those jewels ye are keeping from me are mine once and for all.”

He nodded and helped her into the carriage. Then Mary, and he followed behind, settling into the bench across from them.

Lizzie stuck out a foot and nudged his boot discreetly.

He raised a brow in question, and she just laughed as the carriage lurched forward and they were on their way.

*

It was almost suppertime when the carriage rocked to a halt in front of the steps of Tolton Hall. It was a beautiful building that looked out to the North Sea. He imagined if they went out the back door of the estate, their feet would meet pebbly sand and hear the rush of the waves as they crashed to shore.

A woman rushed out the front door, and from the resemblance to Lizzie, Malcolm expected the woman was her mama.

“You’re back,” she exclaimed happily when Lizzie exited the carriage, pulling her into a warm embrace. “Did ye have a nice visit?”

“Mama, please,” Lizzie begged, embarrassment tinging her cheeks bright pink.

The woman gave a kind smile to Mary as she stepped from the carriage, and then her eyes widened when Malcolm exited.

“Och, who do we have here?” Her hand fluttered to the pendant she wore and she started fidgeting with the gem, her eyes darting to Lizzie.

“Mama, this is Lord Kennedy, Earl of Cassilis. Sir, this is my mama, Lydia, Baroness Barclay.”

Malcolm stepped forward and bowed. “’Tis verra nice to make your acquaintance. I have heard much about ye.”

Lydia’s brows drew together as she gave her daughter a questioning look. But Lizzie just ignored her.

“Well, I am sure ye have had a long journey. Please, come inside.” She snaked her hand into the crook of Lizzie’s elbow. “I am curious to ken what is happening.”

Inside, Malcolm was ushered to the salon and offered refreshments. He took a seat and waited for the inevitable arrival of Mr. Barclay. Any man worth his salt would want to assess the man that had shown up with his unmarried daughter, with her maid as her only chaperone.

He wasn’t sure what he would tell them yet. He thought it was only proper that Lizzie explained exactly what happened first. He wouldn’t implicate her in any way.

The last thing he wanted to do was put her in a bad light with her parents.

While he waited, he got up and paced around the room, studying the many portraits hanging on the walls.

And that was when he saw it.

The portrait of what could only be Lizzie’s grandmama. The resemblance was unmistakable. They had the same coloring, along with the same eyes.

And smile.

They both had beautiful smiles. But that wasn’t what caught his attention. Nay, what his eyes focused on was the necklace she wore.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the pouch he’d stored the necklace in when he’d requested it back from Lizzie, and held it up, studying it against the portrait.

Well, shite.

Lizzie had been telling him the truth this whole time. It also proved that it wasn’t Lizzie that robbed the estate on the first night they’d stopped. That truly had been the Phantom Prowler… most likely the viscountess as Lizzie had suspected. Which he had kenned all along. The more time he’d spent with her, the more he realized she couldn’t be the prowler.

He didn’t think the lass had a deceptive bone in her body. Well, except for her wee deception of her parents, that is.

And she’d be dealing with whatever punishment they deemed fit soon enough. He hoped they wouldn’t be too hard on the lass. Her motive was genuine, and she only had her family’s best interest at heart.

“Lord Malcolm, welcome to Tolton Hall.” Richard Barclay entered the room and held out his hand for a shake.

He dropped the necklace into his pocket.

“Sir Barclay. I thank ye for the welcome.”

“I think ’tis I that should be thanking ye.”

Malcolm raised his brow in question.

“For getting my daughter home safely to us. Though, I would like to learn the details of how that came to be.”

It was a question disguised as a statement, but Malcolm didn’t take the bait. He wouldn’t give Lizzie up. She had made the decisions she had, and it was up to her to explain them to her parents, not him.

*

“Did ye see the portrait?” Lizzie asked Malcolm as she burst into the room.

He and her papa were talking in hushed tones, and they turned to look at her. Papa looked confused, but Malcolm kenned exactly what she was asking.

“What portrait?” her mama asked, following her in.

Lizzie pointed to the wall where her grandmama’s portrait hung high in the center. The jewelry she’d recovered from the viscountess, hanging around her grandmama’s neck and dangling from her lobes.

Mama’s eyes tracked to the portrait, and she frowned.

“Why would Lord Malcolm have any interest in our family portraits?”

“No’ our family portraits, Mama. Just Grandmama’s portrait.”

Her mama held her hands up. “I believe I am missing something.” She looked at Papa. “Do ye ken what our daughter is talking about?”

Papa shook his head. “I havena any clue. Lizzie, dear, what is this all about?”

Lizzie sighed as she bit her bottom lip. Now was the time that she needed to tell her parents what she’d done. Three sets of eyes focused on her and the room felt suddenly hot and small. As if the walls were closing in on her.

“Lizzie,” her papa drawled, “I ken ye too well. Ye are hiding something. Let’s all have a seat and ye can tell us all about it.”

She scrunched her face. She wasn’t so sure she really wanted to do that. But as her parents looked at her expectantly, she sighed and dropped into a chair, fidgeting with the satin sash of her gown.

Her eyes clashed with Malcolm’s and he gave the slightest nod of his head, urging her to tell her parents what she’d done.

Taking a deep breath, she started. “First, I would like to say that I understand that ye will be upset with me, however, I also would like ye to ken that I only did it to retrieve what had been stolen from us.”

Both her mama and papa’s brows drew down in confusion. “I havena the slightest idea of what ye speak of, Lizzie, but ye have us intrigued. Lord Kennedy, I assume ye are aware?”

Malcolm nodded. “I’ve an inkling.”

Her papa focused on her once again. “Well, we are waiting.” He crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair.

“Also, please dinna be angry with Mary. She was only doing what I asked of her. She is verra loyal and deserves to be rewarded, no’ disciplined.”

Her father crossed his arms, his mouth dipped down in a frown as he regarded her. He didn’t look happy.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and confessed to all she had done.

How she lied about visiting a friend.

How she took the Wilson’s invitation and went to the party.

And how she recovered her grandmama’s jewelry.

“Lizzie,” her mother said, her voice dripping with disappointment. “What have ye done?”

“I took what rightly belonged to me. To us. It canna be stealing if they were ours to begin with.”

“And ye caught her in the act?” Papa asked Malcolm, his voice serious.

“Aye. Though I must admit, I didna take the lass for a thief. Especially the Phantom Prowler. She was much too loud and careless for that,” he said with a small smile.

Papa chuckled, but Mama’s mouth stayed in a thin line. “Ye are truly daft, Lizzie. How could ye take such risks for, for that?”

“Why wouldna I? ’Tis Grandmama’s jewelry. It belongs to me. She gifted it to me,” she said stubbornly. Why couldn’t they see what was happening? Her intentions were true.

Mama pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger. “Aside from the fact of how ye thought ye would find them at the Wilsons’ home, which is an issue we will deal with later, ye risked e’erything for colored glass.”

Now it was Lizzie’s turn to be confused. “What are ye speaking of?”

“The gems, Lizzie. They are fake,” her mother explained in exasperation.

“But those pieces were Grandmama’s favorites. She wore them all the time.”

“Aye, she did. Because she thought the designer had done such fine work on them. They fooled e’eryone. Including ye, apparently. But they’re worth naught.”

Well, color her a fool. She felt her face flame in embarrassment. Her grandmama’s jewels were fake. She shook her head in disbelief. It didn’t matter in the end. She wasn’t after the jewels because they were worth a lot of coin. She was after them because they belonged to her grandmama. And then someone came into their house and stole them.

Stole what was rightfully hers.

She was only righting the wrong that had been done against them.

Her gaze clashed with Malcolm’s. He was watching her closely as he slipped a hand into his jacket pocket. When he withdrew it, her grandmama’s jewels were in his palm, which he held out for her to take.

Tentatively, she took a step forward. When her parents didn’t move to stop her, she closed the distance and scooped the jewels from Malcolm’s palm, cradling them to her chest. It was like hugging an old friend.

It didn’t matter that the gems weren’t real. What mattered were the memories the jewelry represented. Memories of Lizzie watching Grandmama ready herself for a party or a ball. Of her grandmama’s nimble fingers clasping the necklace around her slender neck and latching the earrings into each lobe. Grandmama would regale Lizzie with stories from her past. She reveled in those memories.

And the jewelry played a large part in each one.

Even now, with them cupped in her palms, she felt her grandmama’s presence. That was all she cared about.

“Lizzie,” Papa called, drawing her attention back to the present. “We have much to discuss with Lord Kennedy. We will decide upon proper punishment later. Until then, go to your room.” Her father turned his back to her, effectively dismissing her as if she were a petulant child.

Malcolm frowned but said naught.

Embarrassed that she was being treated like a child, especially in front of Malcolm, she refused to meet his eyes. Instead, she dropped her head and left the room.

Fighting back tears, she made her way upstairs as the doors to the salon clicked shut.