The Scent of Scandal (Rogues and Gentlemen Book 16)

by Emma V. Leech

  Sampson bit his lip, considering this. “If he loves her and you’ve taken her off….”

  “I know, I’m liable to get my nose broken,” Sam said with a snort. “Won’t be the first time. We’ll stop when we get to Glasgow and I’ll hire a lady’s maid for propriety, as she won’t take Maggie away from Digby.”

  “I suppose you want me to stay here and explain things,” Sampson said, giving his younger sibling an unloving look. “Which puts me in just as much danger of being murdered by that hot-tempered fool.”

  Sam shrugged. “I wouldn’t dream of having all the fun, Sunny,” he said, with the glimmer of a smile. “I trust I can count on you to inform the man he’s a blithering idiot?”

  “You can,” Sampson said, throwing back the bedcovers. “At risk to my nose and my general well-being, but you’d best get a move on if you want to be out of here before he returns.”

  Sam held out his hand and Sampson shook it, grinning a little. “To romantic adventures,” he said.

  Sam snorted and headed for the door. “As long as we don’t die trying to reunite Romeo and Juliet. I’m too young and pretty to go yet.”

  Sampson chuckled and decided he’d better waste no time in getting dressed. If he had to face an angry Scot and inform her that his brother had taken his beloved back to London, he was not doing it in the buff.

  Chapter 21

  “Wherein our hero realises…. He’s an idiot.”

  By the time Ross had concluded his business and arranged for the blacksmith to marry them—an hour from now—he’d begun to wonder if he’d done right in leaving Freddie so abruptly.

  No, she’d be relieved that he’d hastened to do the right thing, he assured himself, trying to bury the niggle of unease that speeded his steps as he hurried back through the village.

  Surely, knowing she wasn’t to be ruined would be the first thing on her mind. Knowing that he had set out to make things right for her as soon as possible would….

  He remembered the look in her eyes when he’d turned away and closed the door. She hadn’t looked reassured or relieved. Ross swallowed down a lump of unease that wouldn’t budge and walked faster. Damn him, why hadn’t he come on horseback? Except that he’d needed to think, and he did that better whilst walking.

  Well, he was thinking now, all right.

  He was thinking he might be a blithering idiot.

  Freddie had come to him, last night, and given herself to him, body and soul, and with a sweetness that made his chest tight. She’d placed herself in his care, risked everything, including her pride and her future, just to be with him… and he’d left her at the arse crack of dawn without so much as….

  “Christ.”

  He ran the rest of the way back to the castle, arriving sweaty and out of breath to find Sampson waiting for him in front of the great oak doors.

  Sampson was leaning against the rail of the drawbridge, arms folded, bearing the expression of a man forced to deal with an unpleasant task.

  Ross’ heart trembled, that poor unused organ icy cold with dread.

  “You stupid bastard,” Sampson said, pity in his voice.

  “Where…?” It was all he could manage.

  He wanted to howl with rage and misery, but he was numb. He’d been right. She had come to her senses, even faster than he’d believed she might.

  “She begged Sam to take her back to London. They left half an hour ago.”

  Ross was very still as he took this in. She was going back to London. With Sam.

  Something unpleasant lashed in his chest.

  “Do you really know so little of women, you big oaf?” Sampson said, shaking his head as he advanced on Ross. “Surely, that thick head of yours could work out that leaving her alone and sneaking out at the crack of dawn, hours after taking her virginity, was not the height of good manners.”

  “I was wedding her, it’s all arranged,” he snapped, his voice rough, though he knew his behaviour was indefensible. “Now. Today.”

  “Yes, and with as much good grace as a trout thrashing on the end of line,” Sampson retorted, his tone dry. “Instead of getting on your knees in gratitude and confessing your devotion, you acted like you were doing her a favour by putting a ring on her finger, you interminable cod’s head. She’s gone because she thought you were only marrying her because you had to, because you didn’t want anyone to compare you to your bastard of a father. Such romance,” he added putting a hand to his heart and not bothering to hide his contempt. His sarcasm combined with his precise English accent worked on Ross in the manner of an aggravated wasp with revenge in mind. “It’s a wonder she didn’t swoon.”

  Sampson hit the dirt with a thud and a muttered oath.

  Ross didn’t even remember hitting him. He was shaking, hands still clenched as he stared down at his half-brother, who was checking to see if all his teeth were intact.

  Letting out an uneven breath he realised every word Sampson had said was true. The fact he didn’t want to hear it didn’t change that he was every bit the pestilent fool Sampson described with such meticulous accuracy.

  “I… I shouldnae have done that,” he said, offering him a hand up. “Ye’re right, I know it. I was a bloody half-wit.”

  Sampson glowered a little but accepted his hand and got to his feet. “Forget it,” he muttered, wincing as he touched a fingertip to his jaw. “At least you didn’t break my nose.”

  “I knew she’d realise her mistake,” he said, hearing the aching sorrow in his voice at the admission. “But I thought if I married her at once that…. She couldn’t just walk away when she figured it out.”

  Sampson stared at him, perplexed. “Figured what out?” he demanded.

  “That I’m barely civilised,” Ross exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. “Everyone around here knows it. I was raised like a beast and acted like one until the army thrashed it out of me, but it’s only that I know how to hide it now. I’m nae different inside than I was then and… anything good, anything nice….”

  He stopped, taking a moment to gather himself as Sampson was looking rather appalled by his outburst.

  “I don’t even remember hitting you, Sampson,” he said, forcing the words out. “I just did it without thinking. I’m a brute, a violent man who’s seen and done terrible things and… I have nae idea how to be a husband, how to be… what she needs.”

  He gave a bitter laugh and shook his head. “Christ, I couldn’t even manage a few hours without hurting her. Perhaps it’s for the best.” Best for her, he amended silently, for he didn’t know how he would endure the next few minutes knowing he’d lost her, let alone a lifetime.

  “So, that’s it, you’ll let her go believing you didn’t care enough to fight for her? She thinks you were marrying her out of duty, you pig-headed fool. She thought she’d trapped you and you resented her for it.”

  “Resented her?” Ross said, the words thick with misery. He laughed then, though it was the least happy sound he’d ever made in his life. “I’d have gone to my knees every morning and thanked God for my good fortune, and I don’t even believe in such things.”

  Sampson’s face softened and he reached out, grasping Ross by the arms. “Then for heaven’s sake, go after her. Tell her, not me. She doesn’t know, Ross. She loves you and you’ve behaved like a prize idiot and broken her heart. You owe her the truth and an apology. Blast it, you owe her your heart on a platter in gratitude for having been daft enough to have fallen for you.”

  Ross stared at him in astonishment. “Did she… did she say…?”

  “That she loved you?” Sampson guessed, rolling his eyes in despair. “Not in so many words, but there’s no one else in the castle who’s in any doubt of it. Hell’s teeth, how could you not see it?”

  Ross shook his head, incapable of believing such nonsense. “She’s kind, that’s all,” he said, his heart thudding so hard he felt ill. “Tender hearted. She didn’t—”

  “She loves you,” Sampson said again, the
words hard and impatient now. “Though at this moment I’m damned if I know why, but if you get on your knees and beg her to give you another chance, she might even forgive you for being so cork-brained as to leave her alone at such a moment, instead of telling her you loved her and begging her to never leave you.”

  The idea she could have done something so impossibly foolish as to fall in love with him was so extraordinary his brain—which had been struggling to function all morning—simply could not comprehend it.

  “She’d be a fool to forgive me,” Ross said, wondering if he’d survive if he went after her, only to discover she didn’t want him. Why would she want him? No one ever had before. Not one person had ever looked at Ross and thought he was worth anything, certainly not loving. Mrs Murray had patched him up because she was too kind hearted to refuse him, or anyone for that matter, but he’d long since accepted there was something lacking in him, something… wrong. Rather than wallow in grief, he’d told himself he didn’t care a damn.

  He didn’t want them to want him.

  He didn’t need them.

  He didn’t need anyone.

  At least, he’d thought he hadn’t.

  Sampson was right, though, he owed her the truth. He owed her a great deal more than that, and if it cost him his pride it was no more than he deserved. If she wanted him to grovel, he’d do it.

  “I widnae forgive me,” he said, feeling pitiable and seeing the truth of it in Sampson’s eyes.

  His brother shrugged, clearly believing he’d done his part and had the bruises to prove it.

  “That’s for Freddie to decide, but if you don’t go after her, you’ll never know.”

  ***

  Sam didn’t speak to her during the journey, for which Freddie was grateful. He took care of all the arrangements with no fuss, no questions about the wisdom of her decision, no recriminations.

  They would stop for the night at a little village called Luss in Loch Lomond. That Freddie was unattended by a maid was scandalous, but they would give false names and hope they’d go unnoticed. Once they got to Glasgow, they would hire a woman to act as chaperone, but there had been no time for such things before they left, and it was doubtful that the tiny village could provide a maid willing to travel to London.

  Freddie could do nothing but stare about at the countryside and try not to whimper in misery. She had come to love the fierce, uncompromising landscape just as she’d loved the fierce and uncompromising man she’d gone there for. Perhaps she ought to be angry with her uncle for sending her on such a fool’s errand, but she could not muster that emotion on top of all the others.

  Ross filled her heart and she knew he always would. His handsome face, those astonishingly green eyes flecked with the soft violet of heather in bloom, the ridiculously long eyelashes more suited to a girl than a belligerent Highlander… all these things she would remember always.

  Besides, she refused to regret it.

  Though she regretted the fact Ross believed she’d been trying to trap him into marriage, she couldn’t regret last night. It had been beyond anything she could have ever imagined, and every second would be engraved on her heart and mind until she took her last breath.

  What if there’s a child? A little voice kept whispering the question through her mind and she didn’t know whether to dread it or long for it. If there was no child, her association with Ross was over and done, and she would never see him again. If there was a child, however, she would always have a part of him.

  Could she return to him in such a condition and beg him to save her from shame, though? It would not change what she’d done. She’d still have trapped him, just a little later than he’d believed she meant to.

  No.

  She would have to go away, somewhere she wasn’t known. It would be easy enough to buy a gold ring and change her name. She could pass herself off as a widow. Ross would have to know, of course—after all, the child would be his—but she would ask nothing of him.

  Perhaps when the child was old enough Ross would want to know them, but… but then he would likely be married with children of his own, and his wife….

  Much to her own disgust, Freddie broke down and cried. All the sorrow she’d held in all day bubbled up in one heart rending wave of emotion that would not be contained a moment longer.

  “Freddie!” Sam exclaimed, changing seats to put his arms around her. “Oh, there now, don’t take on so. It will be all right, I’m sure of it.”

  Though she was certain he meant to help, Freddie knew nothing would ever be all right ever again and only sobbed harder, turning into his arms and feeling horribly alone. Poor Sam, whatever had he done to deserve being wept all over? She was crumpling his immaculate coat and rumpling his cravat, and she didn’t doubt he was wishing her to Hades, but she couldn’t stop.

  “If I know anything, Ross is only about five minutes behind us,” Sam said, those words the only thing he could possibly have said to pierce the fog of misery she’d sunk into.

  “What?” she said, blinking up at him. “No, why would he…?”

  “Because he loves you, you hen-witted creature,” Sam said, giving her an impatient look.

  Freddie snorted, fully prepared to sink back into the fog as Sam clearly had rocks in his head if he believed that. “Oh, yes,” she said, her voice thick with gloom and heavy with sarcasm. “He loves me so much he left me the moment dawn broke, stalking off to do the decent thing with all the enthusiasm of a man going to the gallows.”

  Sam tutted and tried to rescue the cravat she’d cried all over by seeking his reflection in the window. “I never said he had a brain in his head,” he retorted, glancing at her before returning his attention to his attire. “And even you, innocent as you are, must know that men lose their wits when they find themselves at the mercy of their emotions. Good God, I know how I’d feel if such a plaguey thing happened to me, but to Ross… if he can’t shoot it, shout at it, or knock it down, he’ll simply pretend it doesn’t exist.”

  Freddie swallowed, unwilling to let the little flicker of hope he’d ignited flare into something more because… because he was wrong, and she’d not survive such a disappointment.

  “You’ve barely known him five minutes, Sam, you can’t know that.”

  “Oh, can’t I?” he said, huffing, though she thought it was more to do with the fact his cravat was beyond repair than irritation with her. “I tell you, people have paid me to find things out, to seek out skeletons long hidden, unearth secrets, reveal lies and understand the reasoning behind a deal of unpleasantness. One thing I think I do understand is how people tick, and Ross really isn’t that complicated.”

  “He isn’t?” Freddie asked, sniffing and sitting up a little straighter, too intrigued not to want to know more, even though that little spark was catching her heart alight.

  “I’ve discovered a fair bit about my brother from Mrs Murray, and from drinking down at the village, and I know no one’s ever given a tinker’s cuss whether he lived or died. Oh, Mrs Murray did as much as she could, but it wasn’t enough when he was being beaten, abused, and half-starved. He’s been treated like he’s worthless his whole life, from an unwanted brat to the army where he was used as cannon fodder. Can’t you see how hard it would be to accept someone actually cared for him?”

  Freddie felt something tender and ferocious stirring in her heart as she recognised the truth in his words. It was everything she’d believed herself, only… only in her own distress after the enormity of what she’d done had sunk in… she’d been too terrified to step back and look at things objectively.

  “No doubt he suspected your motives but, whether or not he believed you trapped him, he wanted you to stay, Freddie. Why else would he have hied off like the devil was at his heels to make sure you couldn’t leave if you wanted to?”

  Freddie tried to take that in. Was it possible? Was that why he’d acted like he had, all stiff and honourable and impatient, because he’d not wanted to admit he wanted her to s
tay? He needed her to stay.

  She remembered the way he’d touched her when they’d made love, his soft words and the reverence with which he had treated her. He’d hated hurting her, begging for her forgiveness and….

  I’m honoured by the gift ye give me. Christ knows I don’t deserve it.

  He’d said that. He’d said that, and he’d meant it.

  Oh, Ross.

  Freddie burst into tears for the third time that day.

  “Oh, blast….” Sam said, sighing and gathering her into his arms again. “That was supposed to make you feel better,” he said, patting her back. “There, there, now, don’t cry, please, Freddie….”

  Anything else Sam might have been thinking of saying was cut off abruptly as the carriage door swung open and his poor cravat was further assaulted.

  “Ross!” they both exclaimed in unison, neither of them having noticed the carriage had rolled to a halt.

  “Take yer damn hands off my woman,” Ross growled, towing Sam from the carriage by his abused neckwear. “Before I remove them from the end of yer arms.”

  He let Sam go, who staggered before righting himself.

  Freddie, however, suspected she was not as concerned for her friend’s welfare as she probably ought to have been, too enraptured by the phrase my woman to think sensibly.

  Ross was here.

  For her.

  “Your woman?” Sam retorted with a snort that Freddie suspected might not be good for his health. “This would be the woman you made to feel like a conniving harlot who’d trapped you into offering for her, would it?”

  Ross glowered, the rage in his eyes dimming a little as his expression suffused with one of guilt. “I never said I wasn’t a damned bastard and a half-witted fool,” he said, the words full of self-disgust, “but that disnae excuse ye from whatever it was ye were doing. Why were ye embracing her, ye bastard? Were ye hoping to replace me in her affections?”

  “Replace…?” Sam stared at him as though he was speaking a foreign tongue before his temper erupted. Freddie had seen the results of three of the four Scandalous Brothers losing their tempers, at one time or another.