12. Chapter 12

Chapter twelve

James

S hock spread across Miss Scott's face, and regret filled me. My words had been bold—too bold considering I had yet to decide what to do with my steadily growing feelings. My attraction to the woman went beyond finding her handsome; that much I recognized. I wanted her company, looked forward to our conversations, few and brief as they were. With her, I sensed a connection, something deep that drew me in, that pushed me to open myself in ways I hadn't even with Sabrina. I could hardly explain it, but it was as if our very souls were connected. As if she understood me in a way no one else ever had.

If my suspicions about her relationship with Sabrina were accurate, perhaps she did. I had thought that eighteen months of recovery and declaring my intentions to never court Sabrina again would free me from the cage I found myself in. I had thought myself happy.

But was I truly?

Resentment and anger still stirred in dark cavities, strangling me from the inside and annihilating any inkling of happiness I tried to grasp. There was nothing stopping me from leaving this house party beyond my sympathies for Gregory and his mother, and yet, I wondered if in fleeing I would truly feel free. Was my cage different than I'd imagined? Had the bars not broken as my heart recovered?

Regardless, I was not concerned with myself at present. What had Miss Scott said? That not everyone was so lucky as to have freedom within reach.

Those words were yet another clue, another piece of evidence to support my suspicions that she was not here of her own will. If I were correct, then perhaps I should think more on the potential for something beyond an acquaintanceship.

Still, I would not act impulsively. Had I not just told Miss Scott that I had grown from my previous mistakes? That I would approach future courtships with caution and give them time to develop?

Miss Scott hid behind too many secrets for me to do otherwise. I would unravel them before I allowed myself to step toward matrimony again. That I found myself drawn to her, longing to be near her, indicated my direction down a path I had specifically wished to avoid. I didn't fear a courtship with Miss Scott. I feared falling in love with her and not having those sentiments reciprocated.

I feared my heart shattering again.

Before I could say something to recover our conversation, a scream sounded from behind us. Miss Scott and I turned to see her sister and guardian sprawled over the ground. Miss Grace gripped her leg, her expression one of deep pain, while Mr. Apsley squeezed his palm, drops of crimson seeping between his fingers.

I rushed toward them, Miss Scott following on my heels, and kneeled next to the injured woman just as Mr. Apsley muttered a curse.

"What happened?" I asked.

"My foot caught on a rock," mumbled Miss Grace. "Rowe tried to catch me so I wouldn't fall, but we both ended up on the ground."

"And I sliced my hand on the deuced rock," Mr. Apsley added, slightly elevating his arm. "It will need to be wrapped. And a doctor should be called to see Grace."

Miss Grace scowled at him. "I will be fine. It is you who are bleeding!"

"Do not pretend your leg has not suffered from our fall," Mr. Apsley said sternly. "As your guardian, it is my duty to see that you are taken care of. That includes calling the doctor to look at your injury. He can see to us both."

Miss Grace mumbled something indecipherable, but her agitation was visible in her tight expression.

Miss Scott kneeled next to her sister, her voice pleading. "He is right, Grace. It will do no harm to allow the doctor to check your leg. We must be sure it has not been damaged. "

Miss Grace rolled her eyes. "Damaged more, you mean. And what if it is? There is nothing they can do to fix it, Amelia. Papa proved as much with the number of doctors he called over the years."

Her sister's words seemed only to cause her more worry. Miss Scott nibbled at her lip until the sound of footsteps drew our attention. Gregory, Sabrina, and Mrs. Davis stood in front of us.

"Heavens, what has happened?" asked the matron.

"Is that blood?" Sabrina's face paled, and she retreated a step.

"They're both injured," I offered so neither invalid would have to explain a second time. "We should get them back to the house and call for a doctor."

"Mr. Davis, would you be so kind as to return ahead of us and send for him?" asked Miss Scott, shuffling closer to Mr. Apsley. "My cousin's hand should be tended to immediately."

Gregory seemed in too much of a trance to actually hear her and made no effort to move.

"No, Grace—" Mr. Apsley began.

"Is not bleeding," Miss Scott interrupted with a firm tone. "I will see to Grace while your wound is tended. In fact—" She bunched part of her skirt in her hands and made as if to rip them.

"No! Do not do that, cousin!" Mr. Apsley tugged at his cravat until it fell from his neck and wrapped the fabric around his hand before she could stop him. "My injury, my ruined clothing. I will not have you ripping your dress for the sake of a small cut."

"Small?" She muttered the rest. "That amount of blood would not come from a small cut."

Miss Scott was not wrong—Mr. Apsley's once-white cravat was already quite doused in red—yet I couldn't help but grin at her frustration.

"I will carry Miss Grace," I said to Mr. Apsley. "Even if she is capable of walking on her injured leg, she likely shouldn't."

"I can—" Miss Grace began to protest, but Miss Scott hushed her.

"Surely her injury is so bad," said Sabrina, her dark brows drawn down. "It is rather improper for you to carry her, is it not? Her guardian is here. He should be the one to do it."

"And how do you propose Mr. Apsley carry her safely with an injury to his hand?" I asked without hiding my irritation .

She could not be in earnest. Could she not see the pain written on Miss Grace's expression when she moved even a little? But then, I couldn't be surprised by Sabrina's remarks. If Miss Scott were to be believed—and I did believe her—then Sabrina's attention to Gregory today had been in an effort to make me jealous. She still had her claws out for me, for whatever reason, and surely saw Miss Grace as a threat.

Perhaps she was frustrated for not having contrived the situation for herself, though I certainly would not have volunteered to carry her unless absolutely necessary.

"There is nothing improper about my offer," I continued. "Now—" I slid closer to Miss Grace but glanced at Mr. Apsley before scooping her into my arms. He gave me a nod of approval, and within seconds, I stood on the path, Miss Grace's arms wrapped about my neck.

Miss Scott stood and helped her cousin to his feet. Judging by the color of his cravat, Mr. Apsley would require quite a bit of stitching.

Sabrina, whose gaze had settled on Mr. Aplsey, had turned a shade so pale she looked to be made of porcelain. When she began to sway, I shouted to Gregory to steady her.

"Easy now, Your Grace." Gregory gripped one of her shoulders, the other arm wrapped around her waist for support, for several moments while Sabrina closed her eyes and breathed slowly. She clung to his coat, though there was nothing flirtatious about it. Once she reclaimed her balance, he secured her arm through his. "Come with me. You and I will go on ahead to call for the doctor."

Sabrina stared at him strangely, her head tilted to one side. It was not the conniving expression I so often saw, but one of confusion. I expected her to resist his coaxing, but instead, she gripped his arm and nodded. The two of them forged ahead at a pace much faster than I could keep up with.

The walk back to the house was taken in near silence. I imagined Miss Grace felt too awkward to speak, being in a near-stranger's hold, content instead to fix her attention on the path ahead. Our companions seemed too solemn and distracted with their own thoughts to make conversation. I could guess where their minds had gone, which provided a good distraction for me from my tiring muscles.

Miss Scott continued to nibble at her lower lip, likely occupied with concern for her sister. And Mr. Apsley, I imagined, was silently berating himself for the accident, though no one had blamed him for the outcome.

That Mrs. Davis had continued deeper into the gardens to inform the servants that our picnic was canceled aided in our quiet journey, as no doubt she would have filled our ears herself.

Despite Miss Grace's petite frame, sweat beaded on my brow by the time we reached the house. I followed Mr. Apsley up the stairs, and he directed me into Miss Grace's chamber where I set her down on the bed. Her lady's maid was rung for immediately, and while Miss Scott fussed over her sister's comfort, I noted that Sabrina was nowhere to be seen.

Much to my great disappointment.

I stood in the doorway, watching the two sisters interact. Miss Scott was unperturbed by her sister's insistence that she was well, though her expression betrayed how much pain she was in. Miss Scott carefully removed the pins from her sister's hair, and my conscience prodded me to remove myself from the room completely.

Yet I stayed, my eyes fixed on the woman who had become something of an enigma to me. Each movement, each touch of comfort offered, held me captive. This woman was not the shallow, quieter version of Sabrina I had assumed her to be, and with that assumption getting buried further into the recesses of my mind, there was room to form new conclusions, to see her properly.

And I liked what I saw of Miss Scott. Her gentle kindness, her soft eyes and charming smile. I admired her—mind, body, and soul—and that could prove a rather dangerous thing.

A throat cleared beyond the doorway, and I turned to find Mr. Apsley watching me, one of his auburn brows raised. I backed out of the bedchamber to stand in the corridor with him, partially closing the door. His gaze never wavered from me, narrowed and somewhat calculating.

Mr. Apsley was not a man of many words. He spent most evenings in quiet solitude with a book. I could understand the appeal, but I also yearned to discuss the things I read, whether it be poetry or fiction. Mr. Apsley had, thus far, seemed content to ponder his reading alone.

"Grace can be a stubborn creature," said the man, nodding toward the bedchamber. "She pushes herself too hard at times and refuses to admit to her discomfort. I spent many summer's at their estate—now my estate—as a boy. Amelia fretting over her is a familiar sight. "

"She cares dearly for her," I said. "It is obvious Miss Scott is fueled by concern born of the deepest affection."

"Indeed. She is one of the kindest women of my acquaintance." His brows furrowed. "All three of the Scott women, their mother included, are very dear to me. I confess that I worried when Mr. Scott informed me of his decision to name me his heir, to leave them in my care. I felt inadequate, as I still do, but if there is one thing in which I know I shall excel, it is protecting them."

He tilted his head and pinned me with a pointed look. I shifted on my feet, slightly uncomfortable with where our conversation had gone. Gregory had noticed my attention to Miss Scott. I had been a fool to think no one else had.

"I would expect nothing less from an honorable man," I said. "Miss Scott speaks fondly of you. I imagine you are doing a better job as their guardian than you give yourself credit for."

Mr. Apsley's expression softened. "I will always do all I can for them, out of duty and love. Many of my childhood memories include them."

Then perhaps Mr. Apsley could help me expose Miss Scott's secrets. Expose and understand them.

"You know her well, then?" I asked.

Mr. Apsley studied his wrapped hand absently. The doctor would likely arrive soon, which meant our conversation could end at any moment, but I tried to conceal my impatience with his silence.

"I do, or I thought so," he finally answered. "She has changed since her debut."

"Changed? In what way?"

He met my gaze, silent again as his eyes considered me. After a few moments, he seemed to find me worthy of holding his confidence. "She became quieter, more reserved. Amelia was never one to seek out attention, but she was never so…I cannot explain it."

"As if she has retreated into herself or is suppressing the person she is? Hiding?"

Mr. Apsley straightened, surprise etched into his features. "Yes, that is precisely it. But how could you know—"

"I did not know her before she came out into Society," I said, lifting a hand to cut him off. "I met her while courting Her Grace and developed assumptions about who she is. Her personality, shall we say. Since I arrived, those assumptions have…" I struggled to find the right words. The last thing I wanted to do was admit my attention had been focused on Miss Scott. Mr. Apsley was already questioning my intentions. "She is not the person I thought, and I mean that in the best light. I had believed her much like the duchess, which is not a compliment coming from me. I see now how different the two of them are."

Mr. Apsley leaned sideways to see past me, as if to ensure the corridor was unoccupied by anyone but ourselves. "I never understood her friendship with the duchess. They are, as you say, very different."

I nodded, eager to continue our discussion. I found comfort in knowing that my observations held merit, that I was not the only one who had noticed something was amiss. "Watching the two of them interact as I have for the last week has given me some suspicions. The duchess can be ruthless and is no stranger to blackmailing people to bend them to her will."

She had, technically speaking, done that very thing to Gregory to get me here, even if it was by way of her father.

"Blackmail?" Mr. Apsley reared back. "What could she possibly have against Amelia?"

That was the question, indeed.

"I cannot say. I have no proof for this beyond my observations, but I simply cannot accept that Miss Scott would keep the company of the duchess unless she had no other choice. If you are unaware of anything that might place her in such a predicament, then I am afraid we are on equal footing. I have attempted to speak with your cousin on the matter, but she evades my questions with more ease than a fox in the woods."

Mr. Apsley chuckled at that. "She always was quite sly. Perhaps I will apply to her myself. She may confide in me."

"Please inform me if she has become entangled in the duchess's web. I would like to offer my help in saving her."

I bit down on my tongue. That had been too much. The way Mr. Apsley's expression contorted with my statement proved my overstep. His suspicion had returned, and I could not blame him for it.

"You've taken a great deal of interest in this situation," he said. "As I've said, I will do everything in my power to protect the Scott women. I must ask, Lord Emerson, what your intentions are toward my cousin? "

I had no answer for him. I had not worked out the answer to that myself, at least not entirely. So, I settled for what I did know. "Before Sabrina Perry married the duke, she was engaged to me. She would deny it, of course, but it is the truth of things. I was spurned, and that damaged more than just my pride. My point, Mr. Apsley, is that I understand what it feels like to be on the receiving end of that woman's scheming and heartless actions. I would wish it on no one."

My answer seemed to appease him, though I could sense he questioned whether there was more to my interest in his cousin. He was not wrong to believe my attention went beyond hoping to prevent the pain the duchess could cause.

"Very well," he said. "I shall inform you if I learn of anything significant."

"And I will do the same. If we are to be allies in this, might I suggest we drop the formality?" I extended my hand to him. "Emerson, will do."

Mr. Apsley accepted my offer. "Rowe or Apsley will suffice."

Our hands dropped when the door swung open and Miss Scott joined us, ending our conversation. While I would not have minded more time, I had gained much in my few minutes alone with Rowe, even an alliance of sorts. For now, that would have to do.

Miss Scott's gaze dropped to her cousin's wrapped hand. "Has the doctor not arrived?"

"Not yet, but he will likely arrive shortly. Is Grace well? How is her pain?"

"She is in pain, and while I hate to admit that she is right, the doctor will likely have little to recommend for her. Rest will be most helpful."

Mr. Apsley shook his head. "This is my fault. I should have caught her."

Miss Scott placed a comforting hand on his arm, and I was immediately struck with jealousy. The reaction said more than I cared to address.

"It was not your fault," she said quietly, her smile wry. "You cannot protect us from everything, Rowe."

Mr. Apsley's gaze flitted to me, and I read in his eyes the same thought barreling through my mind. Miss Scott was in danger. From who, we could both guess, but why was a riddle all its own.

"Now, my loss of sleep, on the other hand, will be entirely your fault." Her smile twisted into something more teasing.

My jealousy grew. I preferred to be on the receiving end of those smiles.

"Your loss of sleep?" Mr. Apsley sputtered. "What have I done to cause that?"

"I happened to have become quite fond of my guest bed. You've gone and given my superior chamber to my sister."

Mr. Apsley's brows furrowed, his head turning toward the bedchamber. "I have given…oh. Do forgive me, Amelia. In my concern, I directed his lordship to deposit Grace in the wrong room."

"It is no bother. I only tease you, cousin. Grace's room will serve me just fine for a few days until she has recovered enough to switch." Her attention shifted to me. "And we owe you our gratitude. Thank you for carrying Grace back, my lord."

"It is not often I'm presented with an opportunity to play the hero. Thank you for allowing me the honor." I winked at her, and the light blush that crept into her cheeks satisfied me beyond reason. With any luck, this would not be the last time I accepted that role in a Scott woman's story.