by Tarah Scott
He finished his brandy, then rose and crossed to the tray where sat the decanter. Adam refilled his glass and by the time he’d returned to his bed, he’d drank half. Miss Shaw also hadn’t allowed him to take too much advantage of her in Lady Seafield's garden. He grimaced. He’d half expected her to cut off his bollocks. Damn, but the kiss had been worth the risk.
Adam finished the remainder of his brandy and considered getting up for another. He glanced at the clock on the mantle. Five forty-five. He didn’t have to be down to dinner for another hour. One more brandy wouldn’t hurt. He closed his eyes and contemplated getting up.
A knock sounded on the door. Adam jarred and realized he’d dozed off. The knock became more insistent.
“Sir,” came the voice of Kirk, the footman who manned the front door.
Something was wrong.
Adam leapt to his feet and called, “Enter.”
The door opened, and Kirk stepped inside. “Forgive the intrusion, my lord, but a Mr. Daily asked to see you. He says it’s important.”
Tate Daily, Balfour’s man of affairs? What was he doing here?
“Where is he?” Adam asked.
“In the front parlor, sir,” Kirk replied. “If you will follow me, I can show you.”
Adam nodded and gabbed his coat from the chair as he followed the lad from the room.
They reached a small drawing room on the second floor and Tate Daily stood from the couch where he sat as Adam entered.
“What is it?” Adam demanded as he stopped in front of the man.
Daily glanced at the footman.
“Kirk, leave us,” Adam ordered.
The young man bowed and hurried away.
When he disappeared from sight, Daily said, “Mr. Balfour sent me to tell you that he has acquired a shipment of gold.”
Adam started. “The shipment has not yet arrived. How is that possible?
“This is not that shipment, sir.”
Adam blinked, uncertain he’d heard correctly. “What the bloody hell does that mean?”
“Mr. Balfour asks that you come immediately,” Daily said.
Adam silently cursed, but nodded agreement and wished mightily that he had a pistol.
***
After a day of shopping with her aunt, Sophie arrived at Mrs. Eldridge’s home with her father, Beatrice, and Aunt Maddie at seven that night. Sophie had no idea what the chances were that Adam would be present, but she prayed he would be there. If he wasn’t, how would she find him? He had given her no direction as to where he lived, and the most she’d learned from her father was that Lord Monthemer had an estate in Inverness. Her father didn’t know where he lived in Edinburgh. If Adam wasn’t present tonight, she would have to contact the attorneys who drafted the marriage contract. Once she found Lord Monthemer, she would find Adam.
Sophie pushed up the strap of her reticule from where it had slid to her wrist as a footman showed them into a large drawing room on the third floor. Sophie’s pulse picked up speed as she scanned the guests in the room. Adam was nowhere in sight, but she did notice a tall handsome man who stood in conversation with another man. Was he Lord Monthemer?
“Elsie.” Sophie’s aunt addressed a short stout woman about her age who hurried toward them.
The two women kissed one another on the cheek, then her aunt said, “This is my sister’s husband Liam Shaw.”
Sophie’s father bowed over the woman’s hand.
“And, of course, this is Sophie.” Her aunt put an arm around Sophie.
“Very pleased to meet you, ma’am,” Sophie said. “This is my friend Miss Frasier.” Sophie nodded toward Beatrice.
“Ma’am,” Beatrice said.
“You are the last guests to arrive,” Mrs. Eldridge said. “I believe dinner will be served directly.”
Sophie wanted to ask which one of the gentlemen was Lord Monthemer but knew she couldn’t. Would they seat him beside her? Her spirits fell. Adam was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps Lord Monthemer hadn’t brought him. That was likely the case. After all, it was one thing for Lord Monthemer to bring a man like Adam to a party, quite another to bring him along to a house party.
Mrs. Eldridge made introductions to some of the quests. Sophie’s nerves further frayed when the older woman introduced two more gentlemen, but neither were Lord Monthemer. Twenty minutes later, when dinner was ready, Sophie walked down the hall alongside Beatrice behind Sophie’s father and aunt, who followed the other guests toward the dining room. She suddenly longed for home where she could ride Ophelia and forget her troubles. Her father had accompanied her on one ride two days after he’d arrived. Perhaps she could talk him into a morning ride tomorrow.
The hallway opened up and Sophie looked over the banister at the second floor and caught sight of two men going out the front door. Her heart jumped. She would recognize Adam’s broad shoulders anywhere. Was he leaving?
Her knees weakened, and she gripped the banister. In her room, the plan had seemed perfectly logical. Now that she was about to face Adam and Lord Monthemer, she wasn’t so sure. What if Adam didn’t understand why she’d lied about who she was? After all, a man in his social position might feel a woman of her wealth had intended to make a fool of him. No, Adam was too level-headed to think so irrationally. Wasn’t he? Only last night, he had dragged Lord Emerson out of Lord Emerson’s carriage. That wasn’t rational. She and Beatrice neared the stairs leading down to the foyer. Sophie slowed, with Beatrice beside her.
“Keep going,” Sophie whispered.
Beatrice frowned.
“Keep walking,” Sophie whispered. “I will return soon.”
Sophie veered to the right and started down the stairs. She looked over her shoulder to find that Beatrice had halted. Sophie waved for her to keep going. Beatrice’s frown deepened. Sophie gave her a pleading look, then turned her attention forward and hurried down the rest of the stairs.
Sophie burst through the front door and out onto the steps in time to see a carriage headed down the drive. Her heart fell. Adam was leaving. She looked wildly about—for what she didn’t know—and found no help.
Sophie yanked up her skirts and hurried around the side of the house. The stables came into view. She had to hurry. The carriage wasn’t as fast as a single rider, but she could still lose Adam on the country road if he had too much of a lead.
The young stable hand balked at giving a young woman a horse when night was quickly falling, but Sophie threatened to have him discharged if he didn’t comply. He had a horse saddled in ten minutes, and Sophie was off.
Her father would be furious, but if things went as planned, that wouldn’t matter, for she and Adam would be married. Her father said he didn’t want her to be alone. She wouldn’t be alone.
Sophie rode to the end of the long road without catching up to the carriage and reached a fork in the road. She didn’t know where the left road went, but the road to the right led back into town. That was probably the direction Adam had taken. She urged her mare into a gallop for one mile, then slowed to a canter. Night was fast approaching. She was suddenly glad of her muff pistol in her reticule. The small weapon wasn’t powerful enough to be fatal, unless fired at near point-blank, but she would frighten any assailant. Thankfully, a three-quarters moon hung among sparse clouds, and she could see well on the road. The night was unseasonably warm for autumn, and she was only slightly chilled.
Panic tightened her stomach. If she didn’t find Adam, her father would likely get Lord Monthemer to procure a special license and force her to marry right away. There was no way to avoid her father learning that she had left Mrs. Eldridge’s estate. She fought tears and wondered if she shouldn’t return to her aunt’s home and hire a carriage to take her back to Invergarry—but that would only end with her married to Robert Barrett. Surely, her father wouldn’t really be that cruel?
The creak of a carriage wheel caught her attention, and she dug her heels into her horse’s ribs. A moment later, she discerned a carriage up ah
ead on the road. Sophie started to urge her horse to go faster, then realized the carriage might not be Adam’s. Even with the moonlight, she couldn’t be certain. There was no turning back, but that didn’t mean she wanted to make a scandal by stopping a stranger’s carriage on the road.
She resisted the urge to glance back, for the estate was long out of sight. She had made her bed, and now had better hope she didn’t have to lay in it with Lord Monthemer—or Robert Barrett.
The carriage turned up a long drive, and she followed at a safe distance. Tall hedges lined the drive on each side. A large well-lit mansion came into view up ahead. Was this Lord Monthemer’s estate? Fear stabbed. She knew this place. It was nighttime and had been eight years. The hedges hadn’t been here then, but she was sure this was Imogen’s home. Had Imogen’s family sold the house to Lord Monthemer?
Sophie maintained her distance from the carriage in readiness to gallop away should it turn out that Adam wasn’t inside.
She slowed. If she got any closer to the front entrance, she might be seen. Wonderful. She had nowhere to hide once the carriage stopped—if, that is, someone didn’t spot her first. Sophie urged her mare through the hedge and off the drive toward a large tree. She reached the tree, dismounted, and tied the horse to a low branch.
Sophie lifted her skirts and hurried as fast as she dared alongside the hedge until she neared the house. She peered through the hedges just in time to see the carriage stop. She pushed through the foliage and winced when her feet crunched on gravel and slowed in her creep forward. She reached the rear of the carriage as the carriage door opened and a man stepped out.
Adam.
Sophie thought she might cry. He started toward the mansion. Fear froze her in place.
Move!
She stepped out from behind the carriage. “Adam.”
He spun. With the light behind him, his face remained in shadow, and she couldn’t discern his expression. The carriage started forward.
“What the devil?” Adam strode to her and seized her arm. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?”
Her heart thundered. “I wanted to speak with you.” She hated the tremble in her voice.
“Speak with me? Have you any idea of the danger you’re in by being here?”
“I-I have a proposition for you.”
He glanced back at the departing carriage, then faced her. “What are you doing here?”
“Marry me,” she blurted. A heartbeat of silence passed, and she plunged into an explanation. “I know this is sudden. I hadn’t planned on telling you this way.”
“You are mad,” he growled.
“I had thought you might be at the house party,” she babbled. “But you left before I could talk to you.”
He shook her arm. “How did you get here?” Before she could reply, he said, “You followed me? By God, you followed me from Mrs. Eldridge’s home. It’s bad enough you galivant about Edinburgh with men in carriages, now you are following them at night? Have you no shame?”
“I beg your pardon.” She really did fear she would cry. “I only wanted to—”
“What is going on?” a man called.
Adam snapped his head in the direction of the mansion, then he turned back to her. “Have you any idea what you’ve done?” His grip on her arm tightened.
“Release me,” Sophie ordered.
“Hush,” he hissed.
Boots crunched on gravel, and she glimpsed a man approaching.
“Do as I say, and you might live through this night,” Adam hissed. “Don’t, and he will kill us both.”
Sophie blinked, then Adam yanked her against him and crushed his mouth against hers.
Chapter Nineteen
Adam ravaged her mouth while his mind raced. Balfour would kill him and Miss Shaw. Bloody hell, but he wished that Daily hadn’t taken the carriage.
“What the hell is going on?” Balfour demanded.
Adam broke the kiss. Sophie blinked up at him.
With his gaze on her, Adam said, “You will have to forgive me, Balfour. My betrothed couldn’t wait to see me and followed me here.”
“Is that so?” Balfour drawled.
“Allow me to see her safely home then I will return,” Adam said.
“Nae, I think she will join us.”
Adam mentally cursed. He’d been right. He should have brought a pistol.
“Shall we?” Balfour stepped aside in invitation—more an order—for them to proceed him inside.
Adam started to shove Sophie behind him and charge Balfour, then stilled when a hulking man emerged from the mansion.
“Let me send her home, Balfour,” Adam said.
Balfour shook his head. “I am intrigued by a woman who would follow a man in a carriage. Where is your horse, my dear?”
“I tied her to a tree in the lawn.” Miss Shaw pointed to their right where large hedges lined the drive.
Balfour chuckled. “A resourceful woman. Let us go inside.” He began walking and
Adam pulled Sophie close, then followed. Thankfully, she had the good sense to remain quiet.
Once inside, Adam caught sight of another large man waiting outside the open door of the study where light spilled out into the hallway. They followed Balfour into the study, and Adam urged her to sit on a sofa near the hearth. He read fear in her eyes. She should be afraid.
Balfour crossed to a sideboard near the bookshelves. “Would you like a brandy?”
His tone was amiable, but Adam knew better. One wrong move, and the man would shoot them both, then have the bodies buried where no one would find them. For the first time in his adult life, Adam was at a complete loss. How should he proceed?
“Nothing for me.” Adam kept his gaze locked on Sophie.
Her eyes flashed, and he suddenly realized how beautiful she really was. Dread abruptly tightened his insides. Balfour had a penchant for beautiful women.
“I can see I will have to teach you yet another lesson,” Adam told her.
Balfour faced them, a glass of brandy in hand. “Another lesson?” he asked in a conversational tone.
Adam kept his gaze fixed on Sophie. “Aye. This time, I will make my point.”
“Has—” Balfour cleared his throat. “You haven’t introduced us.”
“Forgive me. Miss Shaw, meet Kenrich Balfour.” Adam tensed in readiness for a reaction from when she realized he knew her identity.
“Kenrich Balfour?” she blurted, and he could have kissed her.
“You have heard of me?” Balfour said,
She glanced at Adam, then said, “Forgive me, sir, but at Lady Seafield’s ball there was…talk of how you have debauched certain ladies.”
Adam tensed.
Balfour stared for two heartbeats, then laughed. “Surely, you do not believe everything you hear?”
“I try to remain objective,” Sophie replied.
“Excellent.” Balfour sipped his drink. “Tell me, Miss Shaw, do you make a habit of following men at night?”
Color tingled her cheeks, and Adam suspected she was remembering the carriage ride with him and Emerson. Adam really did want to teach her a lesson.
“Tonight was my first time following a gentleman,” she said.
“Has anyone ever told you that you are a little mad?” Balfour asked.
Her eyes shifted to Adam. “So I was told tonight.”
Adam gave a slow nod. “You and I definitely need to come to an understanding.”
He’d never meant anything more in his life.
“When are you two to wed?” Balfour asked.
Adam looked at him. “Her father and I have not yet set a date, but I imagine three days hence.”
Balfour sipped his whisky. “Tonight would be even better.”
Sophie gasped in unison with Adam’s, “I beg your pardon?”
“A gentleman can depend upon a wife to stand by his side at all times,” Balfour said.
There was no mistaking his meaning. Balfour didn’t like t
he fact that Sophie was witness to their association. As Adam’s wife, she couldn’t be forced to make any statements against Adam.
“Balfour, I need a moment with my intended,” Adam said.
Hesitation flickered in his eyes. “I will have a minister fetched while you two discuss…your wedding.”
Sophie looked at Adam in confusion.
“You seem distressed, Miss Shaw,” Balfour said in a smooth voice.
“I-I simply planned to marry surrounded by family.”
Balfour laughed. “I imagine you should have thought of that before you followed a man at night.”
She thinned her lips, and Adam feared she would lose her temper.
“How can we marry tonight?” she asked in a calm voice. “We have no license.”
Balfour gave a slow nod. “Never fear. I can take care of that. You will excuse me.” He started toward the door.
When the door clicked shut, Sophie shot to her feet. “I knew it!”
Adam frowned. “Knew what?”
“That Lord Monthemer is involved in criminal activities.”
“Indeed?” he asked in a half-strangled voice. “Exactly what do you know?”
“I have heard that Mr. Balfour is also a pirate—just like Lord Monthemer. Perhaps I do not have to marry at all. Once I tell my father what I have learned, he will not force me to marry the marquess.”
“Have you any idea what just happened?” Adam asked.
“Indeed, I do. I have found the proof I need to put a stop to my father’s ridiculous matchmaking. You will have to forgive me, Adam, but I am withdrawing my offer of marriage. You understand, do you not? After all—” Her eyes widened. “You—you introduced me as Miss Shaw. You know who I am?”
“Just now figuring that out, eh?” he said.
“What is going on?” she demanded.
“What’s going on, Miss Shaw, is that you have gotten yourself into trouble that I cannot get you out of.”
