“I can’t just let them fail!”
His eyes narrowed, and his voice was low and fierce, almost a growl. “You arrogant woman.”
She blinked at him, shocked. “Arrogant?”
“Arrogant,” he repeated, looking at her with…distaste?
“What do you mean by that?”
He gave a harsh laugh, then shook his head. “Your tendency to get involved in everyone’s life, even at the expense of your own—it’s not about helping other people. It’s about your desire to prove that you’re better than they are, that you are smarter and more capable. You don’t believe they can help themselves, do you?”
“That is not fair!”
“Isn’t it? If I were some poor fool who couldn’t put his shoes on straight, you wouldn’t refuse me. But because I am a capable adult, a strong man, you won’t make room for me in your life.”
Her cheeks burned at his accusations. “I am sorry you have such a poor opinion of me.”
“And I am sorry you have such a poor opinion of the world in general.”
Venetia fisted her hands until her nails bit into the palms, furious tears gathering in her eyes.
Damn it all, she wouldn’t cry. Some people became blazingly eloquent when they were angry, but she just cried, loudly. She hated it, yet could not stop once she began.
A sob lifted in her throat. She spun on one heel and made a mad dash out the door.
“Venetia!”
She heard his voice as she fled down the hall. She just wanted to get away and never see him again.
To think she’d begun to believe that she loved him! He wasn’t even worth being friends with if he could accuse her of such—
Venetia slid to a stop in the great hall as two footmen came to sudden attention.
Raffley, the butler, asked, “Miss? Are you—” His gaze moved past her, and he looked suddenly confused.
Gregor came forward, taking Venetia by the elbow. “Miss Oglivie and I have something we must discuss. Is anyone in the sitting room?”
“Yes, my lord. Some visitors just arrived, and I was—”
“I must speak with Miss Oglivie now. Who is in the breakfast room?”
The butler looked pained. “The dowager and Lord Ravenscroft. They had a disagreement about a game of whist they played last night. The dowager thinks his lordship might have, ah, cheated, so she’s determined to—”
“The library?”
“Miss Higganbotham and Sir Henry Loundan, my lord.” The butler added in an undertone, “Miss Higganbotham is upset over something Sir Henry said about her father. They are having quite an argument.”
Exasperation flickered across Gregor’s face. “Are there any other rooms?”
The butler appeared to consider this. “Well, there is a small sitting room, but Miss Platt is there now, with Mrs. Oglivie.” He brightened. “I believe Mrs. Oglivie is anxious to escape, though, so if you wish to interrupt them—”
“No, no. Who are the new visitors?”
The butler inclined his head. “Your brothers arrived only moments ago. I was getting ready to send word to you when you and Miss Oglivie appeared.”
Gregor scowled. “My brothers are here?”
“Yes, my lord. Three of them.”
“Damnation! What the hell do they want?”
“I couldn’t say, my lord,” Raffley said in a reproving tone.
“I will see them after I speak with Miss Oglivie.” He glanced at Venetia. “If we wish private speech, we might end up in the kitchen.”
Raffley appeared offended. “The kitchen, my lord? Surely you jest! I will see if—”
A loud banging sounded on the front door, followed by a gruff, “Open up before I knock this door down!”
Gregor recognized the squire’s voice immediately, as well as Mrs. Bloom’s higher-pitched tones in the background, urging the squire on.
“Good God!” Gregor grabbed Venetia by the wrist and turned down the hallway.
“My lord!” Raffley’s astonished voice called.
“Answer the damn door,” Gregor called back.
The door to the library swung open ahead, and Gregor halted so suddenly that Venetia was thrown against him. He turned and looked back at the entryway, where the squire’s voice now mingled with Mrs. Bloom’s outraged tones.
Cursing beneath his breath, Gregor reached for the closest door, yanked it open, and thrust Venetia inside. He stepped in with her, then closed the door behind him, entombing them in darkness.
The scent of starch and fresh linen rose to tickle Venetia’s nose. As her eyes slowly adjusted to the crack of light around the door, she blinked in amazement. “MacLean, we’re in a linen closet!”
Chapter 21
La, child! Ye can’t capture love! But it’ll capture ye, will ye, nill ye.
OLD WOMAN NORA FROM LOCH LOMOND
TO HER THREE WEE GRANDDAUGHTERS ONE COLD EVENING
G regor looked around. “So it is. And we’ll stay here until we finish this discussion.”
“This is not a discussion. It’s an argument. You are completely—”
“Irresistible? Devastatingly handsome? Right?” He smiled grimly. “Even though you don’t agree with everything I say, you must admit I make sense.”
“Gregor, we can’t stay here. The squire and Mrs. Bloom sounded angry. This situation—”
“Which is of your own making.”
“No, it’s not!”
“Did you or did you not encourage Miss Platt to leave Mrs. Bloom’s employment?”
“Mrs. Bloom is a difficult woman.”
“So is Miss Platt. It seems to me that they were made for each other.”
Venetia wished the closet were larger, for she had to tilt her head all the way back to meet Gregor’s gaze. “You might be right about that. But I didn’t encourage Miss Higganbotham to run away from her father!”
“No? Didn’t you show her sympathy, encourage her to feel sorry for herself, when perhaps you should have gotten a bit more information first?”
“Sir Henry seems perfect for her.”
“He might be, but that is not a decision for us to make. The squire is not a stupid man. He wants what is best for his daughter—”
“He was taking her to London, tearing her from the arms of the man—”
“Whom she was trying to persuade to elope with her. Did you ever wonder if perhaps the squire just wished to keep his daughter from ruining herself. That once in London, he might allow Sir Henry to visit and perhaps even court his daughter, but in a more formal and safer setting?”
Venetia hadn’t thought that at all. “What makes you think so?”
“Because the squire let it be known where he was taking his daughter. He even wrote a note to Sir Henry, which is why we found the man desperately trying to reach London.”
“You can’t be certain about that.”
“I am certain that the squire, for all his rough ways, has a good heart. He certainly showed it in his efforts to assist us all in leaving the inn.”
That was true. Venetia bit her lip. “What about Ravenscroft?”
“Damn it, Venetia! Stop trying to fix all the ills of the world!”
“Gregor, don’t you understand? That’s what I do. I fix things. It’s who I am.” She met his gaze, her eyes swimming in tears as she whispered, “If you loved me, you’d understand that.”
He could understand. She had been taught to take care of others, whereas he had been taught to control himself and never expect anything else. She was right, he finally admitted to himself. He had no right to expect her to give up something that obviously meant so much.
Outside the closet door, all hell seemed to be breaking loose. The squire was yelling, his daughter sobbing, Mrs. Bloom fussing, Miss Platt yattering, Venetia’s grandmother calling for Ravenscroft’s head on a platter, while that young fool demanded someone count the coins and prove he was telling the truth.
Venetia swiped at her eyes, wiping away her tears.
“There’s no more to be said. I can’t stay here, Gregor; I have to go out there and help settle this.”
She put her hand on the knob.
Gregor’s hand closed over hers. In that moment, with Venetia’s warm fingers clasped beneath his, Gregor knew what he had to do. Knew it with a crystal clarity that made him smile. “I’m coming with you.”
She looked down at his hand, which clasped hers so warmly. “Why?”
“Because I love you, and I do understand.”
Venetia’s heart swelled. “You—”
“Love. You.”
“Really?” she asked breathlessly.
He kissed her. Hard and passionately, lifting her off her feet and plundering her mouth. He told her in that kiss that they were right for each other, that they did belong together. And Venetia kissed him back, swept away by their passion as quickly as before.
It took all of his self-control, but he finally slid her back to her feet. “You were saying?” he asked huskily.
She swayed against him, her mouth parted, her eyes shimmering with desire. “I don’t remember.”
He laughed just as the ruckus in the hallway increased. He glanced at the door. “I suppose you want to go out there.”
It wasn’t a question, so she didn’t answer.
“Very well. We’ll take five minutes.”
“Five?”
“Yes, so you can give them your opinion on how to fix things. But, Venetia, they have to do it. You can’t be responsible for everyone, and I can’t pretend I’m not responsible for you.”
That seemed fair. She nodded. “Five minutes. I promise.”
He grinned. “Good, because I can’t wait longer than that to touch you again. If you go over the time, I can’t be held responsible for what I do.”
She chuckled. “Five minutes, then.”
He threw open the door and stepped out, bowing. “After you, my love.”
Venetia followed him into the hallway.
If it had sounded chaotic from inside the closet, it was more so outside. The squire and his daughter were yelling at each other in the hallway, Sir Henry trying unsuccessfully to intervene. Miss Platt and Mrs. Bloom were nose to nose as they accused each other of being unfeeling and selfish. Viola was trying to protect Ravenscroft from the dowager, who was attempting to smack his shins with her cane. And watching all this from the stairs with astonishment were Gregor’s three brothers.
Dougal caught Gregor’s eye and winked. Gregor grinned as Venetia stepped into the middle of the melee.
At the sight of her, everyone broke off and hurried forward, trying to tell their side of the story.
“Venetia!” Miss Platt shouldered Ravenscroft aside. “Mrs. Bloom has accused me of being a shameless flirt! A flirt! Can you believe it?”
“Oh,” Mrs. Bloom said furiously, “you have done much worse! And after I arranged some special sewing for you, to help pay to get your worthless brother out of gaol! That’s what I get for trying to help you, you ungrateful woman!”
Ravenscroft leaned around her, his face red. “Venetia, your grandmother says I cheated her out of two pence! Tell her I would never do such a thing!”
“Ha!” Grandmama snapped, waving her cane in the air. “I heard about that Ulster fellow who’s waiting to gut you the second you return to town. Cheated him, too, didn’t you?”
“Venetia,” Mama said, leaning forward. “Where have you been? I went your room, and there was no one there, and—”
Her blue eyes full of tears, Miss Higganbotham rushed forward to grasp Venetia’s hand. “You must tell Father I am not going to London, no matter what he says! I won’t leave my beloved Henry!”
“Who gave you permission to address Sir Henry by his given name?” the squire thundered.
“Don’t yell at her,” Sir Henry growled, his back stiff with outrage.
Venetia took a deep breath. “Everyone, please! I have only five minutes, so I’ll have to make this fast.”
“Five minutes?” Grandmama’s wrinkled brow creased. “Why five?”
“Because it should be enough,” Gregor said. “Venetia? Do you need any assistance?”
She flashed him a grateful smile. “No, I don’t think so. I shall begin with Miss Higganbotham.”
Which was a good choice, as Miss Higganbotham was tightly clutching Venetia’s hand. “Father is so mean!” the emotional young lady said in a quavering voice. “He says I must go to London and cannot see Henry!”
Venetia looked at the squire. “Sir, I know I have no right to speak, but it does seem to me that completely cutting off all contact between your daughter and Sir Henry would only make her wish to see him more.”
The squire scowled. “I never said he couldn’t visit. It’s not as if I’m burying her away from mankind! I want her to have a season before she makes any decisions like that.”
“Just one?” Venetia asked.
Sir Henry looked at him expectantly.
Elizabeth frowned. “But that would be months!”
“Yes,” Venetia agreed. “However, it would be well worth it if your father will allow Sir Henry to visit you while you are in London.” She looked at the squire. “If Elizabeth agrees to an entire season and joins in as she ought and causes no more scenes and promises not to see Sir Henry except when you approve—”
“Venetia!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “I can’t do all of that!”
“Yes, you can,” Sir Henry said, looking at his beloved with a heartfelt gaze. “I would wait for you for a hundred years. What’s one season, especially if I can see you?”
“Well?” Venetia asked the squire.
“I suppose so,” the squire said. “But Sir Henry is not staying at our house when in London!”
“I don’t need to,” that worthy gentleman said stiffly. “I have my own house in Mayfair.”
The squire looked impressed. “Do you, indeed?”
“Henry has houses in London, Brighton, Bath, and York, don’t you, Henry?” Elizabeth said.
“Actually, I have two in Bath. Both of them excellent rental properties.”
The squire looked at Henry as if seeing him for the first time. “I thought you were a farmer.”
Sir Henry offered a quiet smile. “I am, sir. A gentleman farmer.”
Gregor grinned, his pride in Venetia swelling.
“There,” Venetia said, turning now to Ravenscroft. “I believe you owe my grandmama two pence.”
He huffed. “I do not! I won fairly and—”
Grandmama’s cane smacked him in the shin.
“Ow!” He hopped up and down, his face contorted in pain.
“Grandmama, stop that.”
“I don’t like cheats!”
Venetia looked at Ravenscroft. “Do you have two pence on you?”
“Yes,” he said sulkily. “But it’s a matter of principle!”
“It’s a matter of saving your shins. I won’t be here to stop her every time she wields her cane. And if you think she won’t follow you to London, you’re wrong. You’ll be praying for Lord Ulster to shoot you.”
“She’s right,” Grandmama said, shaking her cane at Ravenscroft.
He jumped back and fished in his pockets. “All I have is this guinea.”
Grandmama snapped it from his fingers. “We’ll consider it interest.” Cackling, she pocketed the coin.
Ravenscroft’s shoulders slumped, but he knew he’d been beaten.
“What about me?” Miss Platt stood with her bony arms crossed over her chest, her nose high. “Mrs. Bloom has not been kind to me!”
Mrs. Bloom stiffened. “Not kind? When I helped you find the money to pay your worthless brother’s debts?”
“By making me sew!”
“I didn’t make you do anything. I arranged for you to be paid very well for some specialty work, which is what I used to do before I married your uncle. There is nothing wrong with earning money, despite what my late husband might have told you.”
Mrs. Bloom sighed
and told Venetia, “Randolf was an excellent man in many ways, but he was never careful with his funds. I am afraid he encouraged Mr. and Miss Platt to be quite extravagant. They never learned the least economy and don’t like the thought of earning a living. I fear it’s ruined them both.”
“We wouldn’t need to make a living if you hadn’t taken all of Mr. Bloom’s money when he died,” Miss Platt said in a sulky voice.
“Mr. Bloom didn’t have any money when he died. I’ve told you that before, yet you insist on thinking otherwise!” Mrs. Bloom reached forward and took Miss Platt’s hand. “I know you never thought I cared for you the way your uncle did, but over the years, you’ve become important.” Mrs. Bloom’s lip quivered. “When I thought you’d been misled by some hooligans, I couldn’t get here fast enough!”
Miss Platt stared at Mrs. Bloom, tears filling her eyes. “Oh, Mrs. Bloom! Y-you came to save me?”
Mrs. Bloom nodded.
Gregor watched, amazed, as Miss Platt threw herself on Mrs. Bloom’s neck and wept.
Venetia sighed happily, then glanced back at Gregor. “How much time do I have left?”
He pulled his watch from his pocket. “Thirty seconds. I’d say that’s a—”
“One moment!”
Mrs. Bloom, her arm still around Miss Platt, eyed Venetia with disfavor. “Miss West, or Miss Oglivie, or whatever your name is, I believe you owe us all an explanation. You lied to us. You and your ‘brother’. and your ‘guardian.’ I demand an explanation.”
“Yes,” the squire said, blinking as if suddenly awakened. “Who are you, and why did you lie to us?”
Every eye turned on Venetia, who paled.
Her mother stepped forward. “Actually, I can explain everything.”
“You don’t need to,” Gregor said, snapping his watch closed and replacing it in his pocket. “I am about to take my fiancée to a quiet, private place and propose to her in a proper fashion.”
“What?” Dougal said, looking as if he’d choked on something.
“Demme, if you don’t remind me more and more of your grandfather,” the dowager said, cackling.
“Propose, hm?” Mrs. Bloom sent a hard look at Gregor. “I take it you are not her guardian.”
“No, he’s not!” Ravenscroft cried, pointing a finger at Gregor. “He was never her guardian!”
To Scotland, With Love Page 26
