The Groom Says Yes

by Cathy Maxwell

  Mrs. Bossley straightened, pushing away from the pony cart. “Most important, I trust your father. I believe he is trying to make things right.”

  “Would you help Mr. Enright destroy him?”

  The question seemed to catch the widow off guard. “I see now what you mean.”

  “Father is caught up in something dangerous.”

  “Or he is trying to untangle himself the best he can. He may be wrong, but if he is, I will forgive him because that is the way love is. Once I love, I will not give up.”

  The widow might blindly offer loyalty, but Sabrina realized, she was not cut of that same cloth. She had to love with both head and heart.

  “I need to know the truth behind that girl’s death,” Sabrina said, “regardless of the price my family pays. I am not going to back down on this. But I was right to cut ties with Mr. Enright. Of course I was,” she repeated, needing to convince herself. He had been growing too close to her and clouding her vision. She needed to be protect her family. “At least until I know what happened.”

  And if there was a clue as to why her father was involved with her uncle’s affairs, she sensed it must be in his papers. Her father always took careful notes.

  Yes, she would search for answers.

  “What are you going to do now?” Mrs. Bossley asked. “Do you wish to come home with me?”

  The question startled Sabrina because, for a moment, she actually considered it. A few days ago, she would not have even looked at Mrs. Bossley let alone accept her as an ally.

  But if she was going to snoop amongst her father’s things, she did not need an audience. She wasn’t certain what she was looking for, let alone what she would find, but some insistent little voice told her she needed to look.

  “Thank you, I shall be all right. Someone should be at the house in case Father returns.”

  “Perhaps I should go with you?”

  Sabrina looked at the petite woman with her anxious expression, and said, “You really do care for him, don’t you?”

  “I told you, I love him.”

  There was a beat of silence, then Sabrina admitted, “I think you will be very good for him.” The compliment had come easily to her lips and with it, resentment and anger had fallen away.

  Freedom.

  Mrs. Bossley smiled her happiness. “I know I will. And, listen, my dear, there will be a place for you at our table. Always. I didn’t believe so in the beginning because I didn’t know you. You always seemed so distant, but I think the two of us will manage well together.”

  “Tell that to Dame Agatha,” Sabrina said.

  Laughter met those words. “I will.”

  Sabrina didn’t linger but pointed Dumpling in the direction of home. He was happy to go. It had been another long day to him. Sabrina felt drained inside, but she was also apprehensive.

  The Davidsons had secrets. Perhaps it would not be wise to poke her nose into her father’s affairs. Mrs. Bossley’s happiness could be short-lived, depending on what Sabrina found.

  Then again, she might not act on what she learned. Or she could be trapped by whatever secret she uncovered—and yet she must face the truth.

  And it was best she went alone, without Mr. Enright. It would be easier, especially if she was called upon to make a hard decision.

  But her heart hurt.

  And she knew the sense of loss would always be with her.

  Mrs. Patton was still cooking away in the kitchen when Sabrina arrived. She had finished roasting the venison and was very proud of herself.

  “Colonel Enright will like the taste of this. My own recipe,” she bragged. “I soak it in milk.” She looked around Sabrina. “Where is the colonel and the master?”

  “Father is in Kenmore,” Sabrina said, amazed at how easily the lie came to her lips. “Colonel Enright will not be joining us this evening. His business with Father has concluded.”

  “It has?” Mrs. Patton echoed, her voice sad. She stood a moment in silence, then said, “I was hoping he would stay. What a good man he was.”

  “Yes,” Sabrina agreed, preparing to walk down the hall.

  “I thought perhaps something special might happen between the two of you,” Mrs. Patton suggested.

  An overwhelming sense of loss threatened to engulf Sabrina. She tried to keep her voice light as she said, “I don’t have a notion what you are talking about.”

  “Och, yes you do.” Mrs. Patton wiped her hands on a towel as she approached Sabrina. “I could see it in your face. He brought out a softness in you. It wasn’t there the day before, but this morning, I had a strong feeling about the two of you. I can always tell when two people will make a fine match.”

  “All he wanted was some business with my father,” Sabrina managed to answer around the tightness in her throat.

  “Yes, miss. I understand,” Mrs. Patton answered, and Sabrina was afraid she did.

  Sabrina escaped to her room. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror over her washbasin. She didn’t appear softer to her eyes. She appeared sad and doubtful.

  And, yes, a little afraid.

  Mrs. Patton called out that she was leaving. Sabrina went out to the stairs, and said, “Thank you.”

  The smell of fresh bread and roasted venison, the special meal Mrs. Patton had prepared for Mr. Enright, was all through the house.

  Sabrina took a moment to remove her bonnet and splash cold water on her face. She went downstairs and let Rolf in. The dog trotted right to the kitchen and, was it her imagination, but did he also search for Mr. Enright as well?

  She turned and faced her father’s study. This was where he kept all of his important papers. She didn’t know what she was looking for, but she hoped she found it here.

  Two hours later, she wasn’t so certain. She’d gone through every drawer, every cupboard, and opened all the ledgers. She’d not found a reason for her father to be at the Rook’s Nest or to lie about seeing Mr. Enright murder that girl.

  However, she learned that her father kept the Annefield books. He carefully tracked every crop raised and stallion bred.

  And then, in the last ledger she had to review, she came upon a note on the edge of one of the ledgers stating “sold to Owen Campbell.”

  Her father could not have meant the crops but the land.

  A few pages later was another entry, “land sold to Owen Campbell.”

  Sabrina wondered if her uncle had sold the land or lost it at the gaming table. She’d known Owen Campbell had held a portion of Davidson land, but she had not expected so much.

  The hour was not late. It was six or so in the evening but the day had grown cloudy and the house was cast in shadows. She carved off a piece of Mrs. Patton’s venison, put it between two slices of bread and, picking up the lamp she’d been using in her father’s office, went upstairs. She lit the fire and a lamp in her bedroom, before going to her father’s.

  She’d never gone through his things before. They’d both respected each other’s privacy. Mrs. Patton would put away laundered items, and Sabrina had no reason to pry.

  The top drawer contained his smallclothes. The second drawer held his woolens. She found a book of poetry there. It was Shakespeare’s sonnets. Sabrina opened the cover and found it was inscribed from her mother to her father.

  “To my loving Richard,” she had written.

  For a moment, an overwhelming sense of loss threatened Sabrina. How she wished her mother were here to help guide her.

  And yet, in the few minutes she’d spent with Mrs. Bossley, she’d received more advice than her mother had ever offered. In truth, her mother had been bothered by her illness. It had made her feel inadequate. She’d not been one to complain although she had relied on her daughter’s constant support.

  Perhaps Sabrina had learned how to suffer in silence from her. She’d rarely expected anything from her father. She had an idea that Mrs. Bossley was not so accommodating, and she found herself smiling. The widow would keep her father in line.
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br />   Still, the presence of the book in her father’s personal belongings touched her deeply. It meant that he did cherish her mother’s memory. She flipped through the pages of the book, remembering when she’d read Shakespeare aloud to her mother. It was then when she noticed that someone had torn up a document and placed pieces of it carefully between the pages.

  She placed the book on top of the dresser and began pulling out the document. She moved the pieces around until she could read what they said. It was her father’s marker for a gambling debt of two hundred pounds. That was an exorbitant amount. Her stomach clenched just at the thought of it—and the paper was signed by Owen Campbell and her father.

  Mr. Enright had been correct. Her father had gambled at the Rook’s Nest, and he had been losing.

  So, what did finding a voucher torn up and stashed amongst her father’s personal belongings mean—?

  Rolf, who had been sleeping on the floor by the door, suddenly jumped to his feet and began snarling.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  The dog ran out in the hall. She followed, listening. She could hear nothing until, with a great crash, the front door burst open, and three men with masked faces came charging into the house.

  Chapter Seventeen

  She’d chosen her family and their dubious honor over him.

  Mac was so deeply offended, so angry, he could have ripped the forest apart with his bare hands. As he strode through the woods, his legs eating up the ground that took him away from Miss Sabrina Davidson, he had to pause every once in a while to punch the air with his fist.

  He knew he wasn’t being reasonable. He also was aware that Sabrina was trying to be loyal. He had no doubt she believed her motives were pure, but he thought they were rot.

  She was courageous and forthright—until her family name was threatened.

  On one level, he understood. He was a threat to her family, but he had been from the beginning.

  Of course, what angered him the most was that she didn’t trust him. She didn’t understand that he would do all in his power to shield her, even if it meant making an allowance for her lying father and drunkard uncle.

  He would protect her.

  Mac made an angry swipe at a tree limb that was in his way. He was walking with no other purpose than to cool his temper. Then he would think of where he wanted to go and what his next step should be.

  Perhaps he should leave Scotland and forget about clearing his name. He’d find a way to leave. He had spent his money, but he was resourceful. He had skills. He could disappear into the world, which apparently was what everyone expected him to do.

  They just hadn’t realized how seriously he took his honor . . . as seriously as Sabrina Davidson took hers—and he stopped dead in his tracks.

  Sabrina hadn’t sounded proud when she’d told him that she could not help him. She’d been ashamed.

  But there was something else tied up in his anger. He liked her. He’d trusted her. In fact, he might be a bit in love with her.

  The realization startled him.

  Love. He hadn’t thought about love since Moira had taken his heart and broken it open. He’d hated love, and his opinion of it had grown worse over time.

  He’d met men who could accept losing an arm or a leg with stoic determination. But let a man receive a letter from home letting him know his beloved had betrayed him, and that brave man would break down into tears. He’d lose all sense of value in himself.

  Mac had understood. Oh, yes he had.

  When he was younger, he had taken his medical studies seriously. After all, he’d had Moira depending on him. Once he finished, they would marry and settle into a good life. He’d loved her from the moment they’d met, when he was only twelve. Even back in those days, he’d been full of himself.

  But the love Moira had claimed she’d felt for him had paled in comparison to the love she had for Lorcan. Anyone could see that was true. Anyone but Mac. He’d felt as if he’d been cheated, duped. Hearing that Moira loved another had been a humbling, painful moment in Mac’s life.

  When she’d told him, he’d turned and walked, just like he was doing now. He’d taken himself as far away from his family as he could, and he had nursed that anger until the day he began to miss his family and his country. He’d wanted to return home—but they were not there.

  However, Sabrina was no Moira. She spoke up. She didn’t hesitate in letting him know exactly what she was thinking every step of this journey, even to telling him she couldn’t help destroy her family.

  Mac hadn’t considered that was where his quest would take him. To him, it was all about learning the truth. Gordana hadn’t deserved to die the way she had. And if anyone stepped into his path, well, they would reap what they’d sown.

  Sabrina’s vision had been clearer than his. She’d sensed where this would lead, and she’d taken stock of the cost.

  He looked back in the direction he had traveled.

  Funny, but he already missed her. The two of them had fallen into step with ease. He’d liked having her by his side. She balanced him.

  That morning, he’d barely been able to contain himself, waiting for her to wake and discover him about the house and not locked in the attic. He hadn’t climbed out of a window. He’d actually picked the lock, a simple thing to do, but she’d accepted his story. In spite of her intelligence, she could be artlessly gullible.

  And she could kiss.

  The memory of her waking him with a kiss was never far from his mind, as was the feeling of being inside her. She was a half of him he’d not known he was missing—and he was walking away?

  Anger, resentment, fury over the injustices of his life roiled inside of Mac, then were gone like a turbulent storm that had created havoc and dissipated. In their place was a realization that he’d been brought into the presence of something better than he could have imagined. Something finer, and more wonderful, more brilliant than anything he had ever experienced in his life.

  Sabrina.

  Of course she’d sent him away—but she had been wrong to do so. He would just have to tell her that. They had started this together and, whether she realized it or not, she needed him to see it through.

  In fact, he was embarrassed that he had allowed his temper to have the best of him. He should have stoutly informed her that he would not leave until they had solved this mystery. They were a partnership, a duo.

  Perhaps if he had just kissed her, they both would have seen reason.

  Mac began walking back the way he had come. His step was lighter and faster. He was looking forward to his coming interview with Miss Davidson. She would protest, then he’d argue, she would refuse to listen, and this time, he would kiss her into silence.

  Yes, he would kiss her, and he would do something he’d not thought he’d ever do again in his life, he would love her. Not make love to her although he wanted to do that as well.

  This time, he’d be certain she knew how much he respected and valued her. He would explain that life made sense when he was around her.

  She would claim they didn’t know each other well. He would reply he felt as if his soul had known her forever—and kiss her, again.

  Sabrina would suggest they spend some proper time courting. He would answer by kissing her.

  Finally, she would accuse him of being quite mad.

  He would agree—then kiss her.

  He’d also say that he was not about to let her escape him. There were many women like Moira, but only one was as stubborn as Sabrina Davidson.

  He hadn’t traveled far when he saw a gig on the road along the woods. The driver wore a maroon cape. He stopped, wondering what Mrs. Bossley was about.

  She saw him as well, and called, “Mr. Enright, I’m so glad I caught you.”

  Mac jumped over the narrow divide of a running stream and stepped onto the road. “Are you now?”

  “I am. You appear to be walking back to Aberfeldy, or have you lost your way?”

  He shi
fted his weight, then confessed, “I am going in the direction of Aberfeldy.”

  “In the direction of Miss Davidson?”

  “I might be,” Mac said, uncertain whether he trusted this woman.

  “Does this mean you will continue to help us find my Richard?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “Good,” she answered, not taking offense. “We need you. Would you like a ride?”

  “Did Miss Davidson tell you she wanted nothing to do with me?” He had to know.

  Mrs. Bossley rolled her eyes heavenward. “Women like Miss Davidson are prouder than a hen that can lay three eggs. They believe family name is all they are worth, and so they have to protect it. Now, before you believe I am being harsh on her, let me assure you, most men have the same character defect. I’m going to say something here, and there are those who would accuse me of feathering my own interests. I want to marry her father. I know you don’t think much of him, but he is not such a bad man. He isn’t as thoughtful as my late husband was, but he is far better than his brother the earl.”

  “And what do you want to tell me?”

  “Miss Davidson deserves a better life than the one she has right now. In this valley, she’ll grow old quickly. Everyone already believes they know her. But here you’ve come along, and I’m seeing another side of her. Don’t leave her here alone.”

  Mac climbed into the gig. “Then take me to her.”

  A huge smile broke across Mrs. Bossley’s face. With a flick of her driving whip, she set them off at a smart pace. Within the hour, they were in Aberfeldy.

  Darkness was falling. There were few people out and about, and most were anxious to find their homes on this chilly evening. Mac pulled the brim of his hat low over his eyes, not wanting to be noticed.

  “I’ll let you off here at the bridge,” Mrs. Bossley said. “It wouldn’t do if Miss Davidson knew I’d come looking for you even though you were already on your way back. Good luck to you, sir. She’s a stubborn lass.”

  “Aye, she is,” Mac said, giving Mrs. Bossley a small salute.