Chapter 10

Tay House, Edinburgh

February 17, 1757

My Dearest Malcolm,

I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for my sudden desertion, but as the day of our nuptials draws ever closer, I have become plagued with self-doubt and I wonder if I can truly be the wife you deserve. You are in your element here in Edinburgh, whilst I...I must confess that I feel like a fish out of water. It became abundantly clear to me during the Saint Valentine’s ball at Kenmuir House that I am but a Society novice. I have so much to learn, and the weight of my inadequacy is almost too much to bear. Indeed, I am in such a state of disquiet, I have decided that I must remove myself from your world. But only for a little while.

Whatever you do, do not blame yourself, my dearest heart. You have been nothing but kindness and patience itself throughout our engagement. When I no longer feel at sixes and sevens, I promise I shall return to your side. If you will still have me.

Your undeserving but ever constant fiancée,

Sarah

P.S. Please tell Aunt Judith not to worry. I will be back before she’s even had time to miss me.

P.P.S. Tell darling Damaris that I most certainly do owe her fifteen pounds from the card table.

“ Y ou say you only received this letter early this morning, Lord Tay?”

Malcom watched Judith Lambert closely as she frowned down at the note her niece had supposedly penned. The middle-aged woman’s cheeks were paler than the ivory lace edging her mobcap, and her hand trembled as she carefully placed the piece of paper on the occasional table by her fireside armchair.

“Yes,” lied Malcolm, draping his arm along the drawing room mantelpiece, feigning a nonchalance he in no way felt. “The night footman believes it was pushed under the door sometime during the night.”

“I don’t understand. Why would Sarah dash off like this? It’s most perplexing, and entirely out of character.” Judith removed her spectacles and her worried gaze shifted to Malcom’s face. “She’s never mentioned feeling this way before. If she were having second thoughts about becoming your countess, Lord Tay, I’m sure she would have spoken to me. Leaving like this...so abruptly, with no indication as to where she has gone...” She shook her head. “I cannot help but feel something is very wrong.”

Malcolm clasped his hands tightly behind his back, fighting the urge to slap Sarah’s aunt across the face. Silly old bat. But at least she appeared to believe that her niece had written the note, even if she hadn’t expected her to behave in such a way.

Swallowing his ire and summoning a suitably concerned expression, he crossed the drawing room rug and picked up the letter. Damaris’s forgery seemed to have worked thus far, but he didn’t want Judith to examine the handwriting for too long. “I don’t quite understand it myself, Miss Lambert. I thought Sarah’s eagerness to wed matched my own. And I’m not ashamed to admit that I feel somewhat hurt by her need to spend time alone rather than confide in me. I’m sure I could ease her fears. But I trust that she will come to her senses and return in due course. She must know how much I adore her.”

“Yes. Well...” Judith pursed her lips as if she doubted the veracity of his declaration.

Perhaps the old bird was cannier than he’d thought. He’d have to play the part of ‘devoted fiancé ’ with more alacrity if that were the case.

The woman rose from her seat and crossed to the nearest window. She was as slight as a sparrow in her gown of plain black silk, and Malcolm didn’t think it would take much effort to wring her scrawny neck. His fingers twitched. If she became too nosy, he might be tempted to do just that.

Oblivious to his dark thoughts, Judith pushed back the faded velvet curtains and examined the gray, rainy day. “I wonder where she is. It really does puzzle me that she didn’t mention her destination. She hasn’t taken any of her things, or our carriage…”

“The note only arrived during the night”—a lie of course—“so perhaps she is close by,” said Malcolm. “And we both know she has the means to look after herself.”

“Yes, she does,” agreed Judith. “If we were still in Newcastle, I’d be inclined to believe she was staying with friends. But she knows no one here, not intimately, aside from you and your sister...” In a low voice she added as though she were speaking to herself, “You know, I’m actually beginning to wonder if something terrible happened at the ball.”

Malcolm’s interest immediately stirred. “Terrible? Like what?”

“That’s just it. I don’t know.” Judith turned back to face him, her brow creased with concern. She pressed a hand to her stomach as though it pained her. “Perhaps someone insulted her, or her background. Made her feel unwelcome or not good enough. Her father was in trade, after all.”

Malcolm cast his features in an expression he hoped would approximate ‘concerned yet reassuring’ as he said, “I should hate to think so. But yes, perhaps you are right. You said yourself, she was a little distracted and not quite herself that night.”

Judith sighed heavily. “Yes...”

“The most important thing, at this stage, is to ensure there is not a breath of scandal about this. I’m sure Sarah would hate to be the main topic of the town gossipmongers.”

“I’m sure you and Lady Glenleven would loathe that too, my lord,” remarked Judith dryly.

A spark of irritation leapt in his chest, but somehow Malcolm kept his voice in neutral territory as he remarked, “Yes. And quite rightly so. I will do my utmost to protect Sarah’s reputation.”

Judith lifted her chin. “As will I.”

“So we are in agreeance?”

The old tabby nodded. “Yes.”

“Good.” Malcolm adopted another expression of deep concern. “One thing I am sure of, Miss Lambert, is that I want Sarah for my wife. If she needs time, she may have it. I will wait for her and always stand by her, come what may.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Judith turned back to the window. “You know, I’m tempted to ready our coach and journey back to Linden Hall. Sarah loves that house. I suspect she has been pining for it these last few weeks. She would see it as a sanctuary. A place to regroup.”

Malcolm scowled at the woman’s back. No doubt Judith would also travel to Newcastle and speak with Edwin Lambert’s former solicitor and Sarah’s erstwhile guardian, Charles Swindon, about all of this. And if the man’s suspicions were aroused, and he alerted Sarah’s London-based bank, Campbell he’d secured it in a hidden compartment in his private study to ‘keep it safe’ when she’d first arrived at Tay House. It would definitely fetch a pretty penny. A soon as Judith was gone, he’d search the chit’s room and sell anything else of value he could lay his hands on—there had to be numerous jewels, did there not? Perhaps there were some spare blank bank notes in her personal papers. Damaris could easily forge Sarah’s signature again.

He might even be able to afford the expense of hiring an inquiry agent.

Yes, when Damaris returned, they’d celebrate with a late breakfast of champagne. After that, he might just pay a visit to his favorite brothel. And one of the gaming hells along the Cowgate.

Anticipation thrumming through his veins, Malcolm called for Drysdale. He’d have him powder his best peruke and brush down one of his brocade frockcoats. Perhaps the one in teal blue.

Yes, penury and Janus be damned. All was not lost, yet.