How the Scot Was Won

by Caroline Linden

  “What are you going to do?”

  Wincing, St. James put his head in his hands. “Calm, mademoiselles,” said Felix. “Let us sit down—“

  “Bother that!” cried Bella. “We’ve been expecting you for days and days, Drew, what took so long?”

  “You’ve got to put a stop to this,” Winnie told him. “Immediately. Poor Ilsa!”

  “You have no idea what she’s been through.”

  St. James looked like he might collapse. Felix guessed he hadn’t slept in days—he certainly hadn’t slept last night. “Miss Winifred, Miss Isabella,” he tried again. “We’ll tell you what we learned, but first may I suggest you sit down?”

  Agnes listened. She plunked herself on the sofa. “Winnie, Bella, sit down and let Drew speak.” When they did so, grumbling, she turned to their brother. “Go on.”

  He sketched what they’d done overnight. Felix filled in details when his friend paused now and then for a jaw-cracking yawn. “And today I’ll call on Ilsa and form a plan, with her, about what to do,” he finished with a stern look at his sisters.

  “She’s leaving town,” said Agnes.

  Her brother shook his head. “She mustn’t. I’ll talk to her about that.”

  “Talk!” Winnie shot back to her feet. “Is that all?”

  St. James stifled another yawn behind one hand. “What would you have me do, Winnie? Run my sword through the sheriff?”

  “Would you?” asked Bella hopefully.

  “So they can both go to jail?” Agnes frowned at her.

  “There must be something.” In frustration Winnie turned on Felix. “File a suit!”

  “On what grounds?”

  “It’s—it’s harassment!”

  “Aye,” said Felix, “and perfectly legal if the sheriff suspects her of a crime.”

  “She ought to leave town,” declared Bella as her sister gasped.

  “No,” repeated her brother. “That would be very unwise.”

  “Then you must stop her! Now!”

  St. James sighed and gave Bella a weary look. “I’m trying…”

  Winnie threw up her hands. “Men! Talk, talk, talk. Why have you got swords if you won’t use them for anything important?” She headed for the door, Bella scurrying after her.

  “Agnes,” implored Felix. She paused, looking at him in apology, then ran after her sisters.

  For a moment both men just stared at the empty doorway. “Bloody saints,” said St. James blankly. He grabbed his boots and lurched back into his room.

  Felix followed. As St. James splashed water on his face and scrambled into his clothes, Felix stuffed a change of garments into a rucksack, holding it out as his friend buckled on his sword. “In case,” he said.

  “You think she’ll flee today? Now?” St. James slung the sack over his shoulder.

  “I think that’s why Agnes went with them. She thinks so.”

  “Are you coming?” His friend was already striding toward the door.

  “Nipping at your heels.”

  The door slammed, and Felix rushed to get dressed.

  When he reached the Ramsay house, a carriage was pulling away. The three St. James girls stood outside the house watching it go, clutching each other. At the sight of him, Agnes ran to his side. “We couldn’t stop her, but Drew got into the carriage with her.”

  He nodded. “I knew he would.”

  “You did? Why?”

  Felix looked at her. She was beautiful in the morning sunlight, her hair tumbling loose and shining like onyx, her eyes so anxiously hopeful. “Because he's in love with her and he’ll stop at nothing to help her.” He gave her a faint, lopsided smile. “I know how that feels.”

  Her glorious blue eyes widened as her sisters joined them. “What happened last night?” demanded Winnie. “Drew wouldn’t tell us anything.”

  “You didn’t give him much chance,” Felix pointed out.

  Winnie gasped, and Bella cried, “Oh, do tell us, Mr. Duncan. Why didn’t he stop her?”

  “I believe he will. No doubt they’ll be home for dinner tonight. Give him time to hear her out and reason with her.” He held up his hands as they all began to protest. “And I will tell you all that passed last night. Might I entreat you to join me for breakfast while I do?” He caught Agnes’s eye. “Agnew’s coffeehouse makes the most delicious currant buns.”

  “Yes, please!” Bella perked up.

  “May we, Agnes?” put in Winnie eagerly. “What will Mama say?”

  Felix watched Agnes, who stood gazing at him with adoration. God how he loved her.

  “Of course,” she said softly to her sister’s question. “Mama won’t mind, when she hears we’re with Mr. Duncan. She knows we can trust him.”

  15

  Agnes had believed that when Drew returned to town, he would resolve everything.

  The one point he had been firm on was that Ilsa should not leave town, and Agnes was certain he would convince Ilsa to turn around and come home. He’d had to run to catch it, but he’d managed to throw himself inside Ilsa’s carriage. It was only a matter of time before he persuaded her to turn around.

  Felix answered their questions over currant buns and tea in Agnew’s, but by now Agnes knew him well enough to sense that there was something he didn’t tell. After he had walked them to the shop, she lingered outside to ask.

  He glanced sideways at her. “What makes you think I didn’t tell all?”

  “Because I know you,” she said. “You wouldn’t want to alarm Winnie and Bella.” He just shook his head, his expression questioning. Agnes tilted her head and touched his neckcloth, which was crooked. “And because you always needed to order more coffee when one of us asked a particularly pointed question, and then somehow the subject got changed, and you managed never to answer the question.”

  Now he looked startled. “Did I?” He frowned and stroked his chin. “I’m sure I didn’t… I slept barely an hour last night, lass, take pity on a weary man…”

  “Felix,” she said softly. “Tell me.”

  He covered her hand, on his chest, with his. “Don’t tell them,” he murmured, flicking a glance toward the shop, where her sisters were visible through the window. “The sheriff agreed not to arrest Mrs. Ramsay, but he insists upon questioning her again. Your brother agreed to persuade her to stay in town and to ask her to speak to the sheriff again—in his presence,” he added quickly as Agnes’s mouth fell open.

  “She won’t want to…”

  Felix squeezed her hand. “And you think he’ll let them hound her? Drew, who will be the almighty Duke of Carlyle and Earl of Crieff and endless other titles and has already seen how powerful a cudgel that is?” Reluctantly Agnes smiled, and Felix grinned.

  She went into the shop with a lighter heart. Felix was right; Drew would rectify everything. He’d always had a knack for persuading people. He was in love with Ilsa, and she with him. And he had that damned dukedom hovering around him like a cloud of golden dust, transforming even the most obdurate officials into helpful sycophants. Everything was going to be fine.

  Thus, she was taken entirely off guard by the arrival of two sheriff’s officers at the shop, wanting to know where her brother was.

  Winnie and Agnes instinctively went silent. Their mother darted a glance at them; they had told her all about the morning. “I do not know, sir,” Mama answered.

  The officer, a surly fellow called Hay, glared at her. “Did he not tell you where he was going?”

  “He’s a grown man,” she replied calmly. “He’s not kept me informed of his whereabouts these dozen years or more.”

  The other officer, Mr. Middleton, smiled. “Of course not. But you must have some idea. Perhaps you, Miss St. James?”

  Agnes kept perfectly still and answered truthfully. “None at all.”

  “You were there when he left,” he pointed out in the same friendly tone. “You and your sisters.”

  Behind her, Winnie sucked in her breath. Agnes gripped her siste
r’s hand to keep her silent. “We were there, sir, but none of us thought he intended to leave. He only returned to town late last night, you see.”

  Mr. Middleton nodded. “Perhaps your friend Mrs. Ramsay told you.” He paused, still smiling but his eyes sharp. “You called on her yesterday, after all.”

  Agnes’s heart stuttered. The sheriff had been watching Ilsa’s house. “She said nothing to me of any travel plans.”

  “What did you discuss?”

  She lifted her chin, gazing coolly at Mr. Hay for his belligerent question. “We spoke of how unjust it is to punish one person for the actions of another.”

  His face went red. Mama cleared her throat. “Neither my daughters nor I knew the captain had left town. Thank you for informing me. I won’t lay his place at supper tonight. Now, if you’ll be so kind, good sirs, we have patrons.” She smiled in that steely, polite way that always wrung compliance from her children.

  Mr. Middleton took it gracefully and left. Mr. Hay’s jaw twitched and he glared at all of them before he followed his fellow officer.

  Slowly Mama turned. “Did you know?”

  Agnes and Winnie both shook their heads. Felix had insisted Drew would convince Ilsa to stay.

  Mama turned to gaze out the windows. “Let us hope Andrew knows what he’s doing.”

  * * *

  The officers also caught Felix unawares, because he was fast asleep. After escorting the St. James ladies to Shakespeare Square, he’d gone straight home and collapsed into bed, vaguely expecting Drew would be there when he woke.

  Instead, Callum roused him with the news that two steaming angry sheriff’s deputies were in his sitting room, demanding answers.

  He scrubbed the sleep from his face and racked his tired brain. If they wanted to see him, then St. James had either disappeared or done something dreadful.

  When he went into the sitting room, a big fellow all but swung at him. “Where is he?” snarled the man without preamble.

  Felix stood where he was. He’d learned as a young skinny lad never to give ground in the face of an angry, bigger boy. “Who, pray?”

  “Captain St. James,” said Mr. Middleton. He was one of the officials Felix and Drew had spoken to late last night. “Do you know where he’s gone?”

  Felix frowned. “Gone? What do you mean?”

  “He left town this morning with Mrs. Ramsay,” said Middleton. “Where did they go? Mr. Hay and I require a word with him.”

  “Goodness,” Felix murmured instead of what he wanted to say, which was extremely profane. So much for an entire night’s worth of insisting to officials that Ilsa Ramsay had done nothing wrong, wasn’t going to do anything wrong, knew nothing about her father’s actions or whereabouts, and didn’t deserve to be treated like a criminal. Last night he and St. James had agreed it would be madness for her to leave town. He’d been sure his friend would convince her.

  “As you know, sir, Mrs. Ramsay may have information regarding her father, who is wanted for questioning. Obstructing our inquiry would be a serious offense.”

  “So I ask again, where is he?” demanded Hay.

  “I’ve no idea,” said Felix in surprise. “Why would I?”

  Middleton’s smile grew thin. “Come, Mr. Duncan.”

  “He assured me that he meant to advise Mrs. Ramsay to stay in Edinburgh. He’d only just returned from three weeks at Fort George, you see, and had had no communication with her in that time. When he reached town late yesterday, he was greatly alarmed to hear what Mrs. Ramsay had been subjected to.”

  Middleton cleared his throat. “Then why did he get into a carriage with her this morning and leave?”

  “You make it sound like conspiracy, when I know he had to chase down the carriage.”

  Hay scowled. “So he didn’t intend to go?”

  Felix shrugged. “He’s at perfect liberty to go where he chooses. He’s not under any suspicion.”

  “He is now,” snapped Hay.

  “Of what?” Felix fixed a steady gaze on him.

  “Aiding a criminal.”

  “Mrs. Ramsay hasn’t been arrested or charged with any crime.”

  “She’s a witness!”

  “She was in Perth when half the robberies happened. Hard to witness anything from fifty miles away.”

  Hay’s face was redder than ever. “She knows where her father’s gone.”

  “And you have proof of that?” Felix knew they didn’t, but he still held his breath.

  Middleton held up both hands. “Nay, sir, we only want to speak to her.”

  “You have, several times. You’ve read the letter she received from her father. The procurator’s office admits it contains no helpful information. Is it not possible—even likely—that she knows nothing, and has grown so weary of being suspected that she’s left town for more peaceful surroundings?” He smiled slightly. “Who knows—perhaps they decided to elope. The captain is extraordinarily attached to the lady.”

  Middleton understood, Felix saw. If St. James married Mrs. Ramsay, the sheriff couldn’t arrest her. The same clout that got St. James the lord advocate’s ear, and into the deputy procurator’s house at two in the morning, would keep his wife out of jail—out of the sheriff’s reach entirely.

  Hay swore. “We understand you, sir. Thank you for your help.” He spat out the last word and stormed from the room.

  Middleton gave Felix a thoughtful look. “If you have any sway with Captain St. James, you would do well to remind him of the promises he made last night.”

  “If I had any idea where to find him,” said Felix honestly, “I would.”

  After the sheriff’s men left, he sagged into a chair. What the bloody hell, Drew? he thought irritably. The plan had been to persuade Ilsa to stay put and engage an attorney to lodge a grievance with the sheriff’s office over their surveillance of her. Drew meant to stand by her publicly and demonstrate to Edinburgh that she was above reproach.

  And, Felix suspected, he meant to propose. He hadn’t dropped the suggestion of elopement lightly. St. James was desperately in love with Ilsa. Marrying the future Duke of Carlyle would put a stop to the most vicious gossip about her, and a move to England would cut it off entirely.

  Instead, apparently, St. James had let Ilsa persuade him.

  Which made her look even more suspicious.

  Which would cloud St. James’s name.

  Which would leave the sheriff embarrassed, thwarted, and in desperate want of someone else to harass.

  And there were only four people he could.

  Felix leapt up and shouted for Callum to find him some clean clothes.

  * * *

  Normally it was Bella’s task to set the table, but tonight Agnes did it, laying out the best of everything and fussing over each piece critically.

  Her mother bustled in with the silver candlesticks, two of the few family heirlooms that hadn’t been sold. “I wish we’d had more notice!”

  “He thought sooner was better,” replied Agnes for the fifth time.

  “I know.” Mama stepped back and surveyed the table. “We’ll not be shamed at any rate. You’ve done a lovely job, my dear.”

  “Didn’t I, too?” protested Bella.

  Mama smiled. “Of course, but Agnes has done an especially lovely job of it.”

  “We know why,” murmured Winnie.

  Agnes ignored them and went to check her hair again. She’d arranged it so carefully, but thought some of the pins had come loose. She hurried up the stairs to the round mirror over the basin on the landing.

  She wore her favorite dress, the pale blue chemise à la reine with the white ruffle at the neckline. Her finger trembled as she touched a drop of scent on her throat.

  The knocker sounded below. Normally she or one of her sisters would have answered it, but tonight Mama had stationed Annag there. Her heart thumping, Agnes hurried to the drawing room.

  Felix entered first, his hair slicked back into a queue that shone like polished copper again
st his dark jacket. He stopped short at the sight of her.

  Agnes smiled hopefully.

  An answering grin spread over his face.

  “Mr. Duncan, come in,” said Mama.

  “Thank you, ma’am.” He bowed and stepped to the side. “Allow me to present my father, Lord Lachlan Duncan. Father, this is Mrs. St. James and her daughters Miss Agnes St. James, Miss Winifred St. James, and Miss Isabella St. James.”

  The ladies curtsied. The gentlemen bowed. Agnes studied Felix’s father with covert curiosity. Like his son, he was tall and spare, dressed in black except for his snowy white shirt and neckcloth. He wore a wig powdered gray, and his sharp blue eyes went right to her. Helplessly she froze, until a smile softened his face, and she beamed back.

  Felix had suggested this. Actually he had proposed dinner at a tavern, but Mama overruled that on the spot. She understood at once what Felix was trying to achieve, and Agnes was slightly taken aback by how decisively Mama embraced it.

  Be seen in company, Felix had urged them. Do not hide yourself away from prying, hungry eyes. Glut them with your utter lack of concern and the gossip will wither away for lack of fuel.

  Because Drew, it appeared, had run off with Ilsa Ramsay. No one had expected that—quite the opposite, in fact—but both were gone, the sheriff was fuming, and now they teetered on the brink of being sucked into the growing scandal over Deacon Fletcher.

  Thus had Felix offered up his father, an eminent and respected judge, as a dinner guest beyond reproach. It caused a flurry in Agnes’s breast; she’d never met Felix’s father. The one time he came to call, all those years ago, she’d been a child hiding on the stairs. This would be very different.

  “It is a pleasure, madam,” the judge told her mother. “Thank you for inviting us to share your table.”

  Mama was a little flushed. “We are so pleased to have you. Would you care for a glass of sherry?”

  Under the sherry’s influence, the formality faded quickly. The judge had a dry, laconic wit that made Mama laugh, and Winnie and Bella were quickly delighted as well. Agnes and Felix managed to end up standing side by side, watching their families together.