The Groom Says Yes

by Cathy Maxwell

  Richard Davidson stood. He blocked the door. “You will not leave with him,” he instructed his daughter. “I forbid it.”

  “You can’t stop me from doing what I want,” Sabrina answered, as simple as that. “You would have to hold me prisoner to keep me from marrying him, and sooner or later, I would escape. And don’t pretend you need me, Father. You’ll have the Widow Bossley. She will make you a good wife.”

  “This man is not good enough for you, Sabrina.”

  She laughed at that, the sound bitter. “Why, Father? Is he too honest for you? Has he not told enough lies? Gambled enough? Drunk enough? Or is it that he doesn’t have money? Yes, that is it, isn’t it? Need I remind you, I don’t have a dowry?”

  A look of confusion crossed her father’s face, as if he was surprised by her resentment, and she was angry. Mac understood why. She’d given her father his due, but now, she wanted a life of her own.

  The magistrate opened his hands, a conciliatory gesture, an invitation to understanding. “I just want what is right for you.”

  “He’s right for me,” she answered. “He has my love. Should that not be enough?”

  “There is more to the world, Sabrina, than simple love,” her father said.

  “I disagree with that,” she answered. “Furthermore, Cormac and I have more than most. He has a profession and a title. Lord Ballin. It is worth as much as the earl of Tay.”

  “Mine is an old and honored title,” the earl declared.

  “As is mine,” Mac said.

  “In Ireland,” Tay returned, and Mac enjoyed the mental image of shoving the man’s head in a vat of the whisky he drank.

  But it was Sabrina who spoke. “I once believed that the family title gave me a position of importance and meant that I had to hold myself to a higher standard, to keep myself apart from others. However, now I know titles mean very little. The measure of a man is what he offers others. Consider my cousin Aileen’s husband, Mr. Stephens. He is a bastard son. Granted, his father is a duke, but I admire that Mr. Stephens has made his own way in the world. And look at Tara’s Laird Breccan. I’ve heard you mock him, Father, because he believes in the old ways, the clan ways. He takes care of his people while the two of you”—she nodded to her father and uncle—”think only of yourselves. You’ve ruined Annefield,” Sabrina said to Tay. “What was once a proud estate will soon be up for auction. And you, Father, you dare to tell me what I can and can’t do? Whom I should and shouldn’t love? You, who had so little respect for me that you kept secrets? I believe you are both a disgrace.”

  “But this man has nothing,” her father said, as if needing to pound in the point.

  “He has me,” she answered. “I’m not nothing.”

  She turned to Mac, as if needing reassurance. “You do want me, don’t you?”

  “With all my heart, forever and always.”

  Tears came to Sabrina’s eyes. “I warn you, I won’t settle for anything less than being the proud wife of an Irish lord. I love you, Cormac Enright, and if you can forgive the fact that I am related to these two men who have given up all semblance of the honor they claim they have, then I will proudly stand behind you as your wife.”

  “Beside me,” Mac corrected Sabrina, taking her hand. “I want you always by my side. We can conquer this world together.”

  “Then let us marry this day. This very moment.” She searched his eyes.

  “Shouldn’t the banns be announced?” the earl of Tay asked.

  “Yes,” her father answered. “Three times. The banns must be announced.”

  “Not in Scotland,” Mac answered. “You know that is not necessary, Davidson. Mr. Kinnion, will you marry me to this woman?”

  Both Davidson and the earl turned to the clergyman still sitting on the bed. “You will not, Kinnion,” Davidson said.

  The reverend looked from one benefactor to the other, then, to Cormac’s surprise, he said, “Aye, I’ll marry the two of you.”

  Sabrina faced Cormac, her blue eyes triumphant.

  “I can’t watch this,” her father said. “I will not accept this marriage. Do you understand? Don’t come to me when you realize what you’ve done. My door will be closed to you.” He then walked from the room.

  Tay watched him a moment, then left as well. He could be heard calling for whisky as he started down the stairs.

  For a long moment, there was silence in the room.

  Mac spoke. “I’m sorry,” he said to Sabrina.

  “I’m not,” she said. “Father will be fine. He will have Mrs. Bossley, and she’ll nurse his wounded vanity, but I can live without him. However, I cannot live without you.”

  “Which is what marriage is about,” the Reverend Kinnion said. “I don’t have my prayer book. Of course, that doesn’t matter, I lost my glasses—but this is one sacrament I know by heart. Lord Ballin, I’m glad I played a part, however small, in delivering you from injustice. You are making a good choice, Miss Davidson.”

  “I agree,” she said. “Now, please, sir, marry us.”

  The ceremony that followed was swift but heartfelt.

  Ingold and a few of the other servants served as witnesses. There was no ring. Mac had nothing but himself to offer her, and that was all she wanted.

  When they were done with their vows, he sealed his pledge with a kiss—and the realization that he was no longer alone in life.

  The servants wished them well as they left the house.

  The moon was high in the sky. It was a good night to marry. They walked across the yard, hand in hand toward where Dumpling had finished his hay and slept peacefully, one hoof cocked.

  “What do we do now?” Sabrina asked.

  “What would you like to do?”

  “I need to collect Rolf. We can bring him wherever we go, can’t we?” Sabrina asked.

  “Of course. He’s family.”

  They drove to her house. Davidson was not there, and that was just as well.

  Sabrina gathered her things. She took only her clothes. Cormac was more practical. He raided the kitchen for Mrs. Patton’s venison and some bread and cheese. He also took the blanket off Sabrina’s bed. They might need it if they slept on the ground. They filled the pony cart.

  “We’ll be doing some walking,” he warned.

  “That’s fine,” she said. “But someday, I will want you to buy a lovely gray mare, and I shall canter around like a fine lady.”

  “You are a fine lady,” he assured her. “You are my lady.” He gave her a kiss and insisted that she sit in the cart while he walked.

  She wasn’t happy about that decision and, of course, argued, which is why they were still standing in the yard when Mrs. Bossley, wearing her maroon cape, pulled up in her rig. Dawn was just filling the sky.

  “I came to say good-bye,” she said. “Your father told me what happened.”

  “Where is he?” Sabrina asked.

  “Asleep. In my bed.”

  “Are you certain you want him?” Sabrina said.

  Mrs. Bossley’s response was to laugh, a sign of the respect she had for Sabrina. “I do, and I’ll marry him. We manage fine together. But I wanted you to have this.” She pressed a heavy leather coin purse into Cormac’s hand. “It is a wedding present.”

  Mac put his arm around Sabrina’s shoulders. “We can’t take your money,” he said, ready to offer it back.

  “Of course you can,” Mrs. Bossley informed him. “I have plenty. The two of you need a start in life. And someday, Richard will come around. I’ve already told him he must do what is expected to clear your name. He wrote this.” She pulled from a pocket of her cape a letter. “It is his explanation to the court. I shall see that he travels to Edinburgh in the next few days.”

  “Thank you,” Mac said.

  She waved a dismissive hand. “He wanted to do it. He is tired now and feeling very low, but he is a good man. He will be true to his word and help clear your name. He’ll also forgive you someday for defying him,” she said to Sa
brina. “He will regret his temper and make his peace with you. Men can be such hypocrites when they have their backs up.”

  With those words, she turned her gig around and drove off.

  “I don’t know if I will accept his apology if it ever comes,” Sabrina said.

  Mac took her hand. “I will ask that you do,” he told her. He stood a moment, looking in the direction of the rising sun, where the sky was filled with the rose hues of dawn, then looked down at the letter he held. “He was a brave man to write this. Don’t judge him harshly. I don’t.”

  And he didn’t. The man he had once been, the one who had nursed a grudge against his brother, had been transformed by love. He now understood that Lorcan had no choice but to be true to the love he and Moira had.

  The one who had betrayed them had been Mac, with his temper. His spite had cost him so much, but he knew that it had not touched Lorcan and Moira. They had been happy together.

  And now he was ready to be the man he should be—the one who loved and loved well.

  “Are you ready to go, sir?” Sabrina asked. “Are you ready to take me out of this valley?”

  He turned. Sabrina was in the cart, with Rolf sitting on the bench by her side. Strands of her hair had escaped her braid and curled around her face. Her blues were alive with excitement and her cheeks rosy from the morning chill. She was beautiful to him. Absolutely perfect . . . save for one small matter.

  “One moment,” he said, crossing to her. He leaned forward and kissed her thoroughly and completely. “Now I’m ready.” She laughed, her happiness filling her heart.

  With the snap of the reins, they set off into the world.

  And so . . .

  Sabrina’s father was true to his word, as Mrs. Bossley had predicted—or had orchestrated.

  At great sacrifice to himself, he admitted to the Edinburgh court that he had lied in his testimony. Cormac’s name was cleared.

  To Sabrina’s surprise, Cormac decided they should stay in Edinburgh. The city was to his liking.

  She and Rolf, and even Dumpling, had some difficulty adjusting. Everything was noisy, but in time, she learned to enjoy the variety of the city.

  Cormac began a practice as a surgeon. Because of his experiences doctoring on the battlefield, he had learned techniques that were of interest to the other doctors in Edinburgh. Soon, he and Sabrina had many friends, and Cormac began earning a good living.

  More important, he was very happy.

  His surgery was two rooms on the ground floor of their house. She often assisted him when necessary. Sometimes, Sabrina would overhear him whistling. The sound always made her smile.

  Sabrina did not talk to her father. She was not as forgiving as Mrs. Bossley or even Cormac. She was so in love with her husband, she could not imagine her life without him. What her father and uncle had conspired to do in the name of money was unacceptable to her. She didn’t wish her father ill, but she would not search him out either, and she found that the decision gave her peace.

  In time, perhaps, their relationship would not be so strained, but Sabrina didn’t have strong feelings one way or the other, and until she did, she would live her own life.

  She heard from her cousins. After being caught up in the whirl of London, Aileen and her husband, Blake Stephens, had decided to return to Scotland. Aileen was now pregnant and wanted her baby born at Annefield.

  However, they were not fools. She and Blake purchased a fine estate along the River Tay, where they would stay instead of relying on the earl.

  Meanwhile, Tara had given birth to a baby girl and all said that her husband Breccan, a brawny man who had once had such a temper he’d been known as the “Beast of Aberfeldy” was at the beck and call of both wife and tiny daughter. Sabrina had laughed aloud with happiness the first time she’d seen the huge, muscular Breccan holding his wee babe, Elizabeth. Lizbeth they called her, named after Tara’s late mother. Tara herself had turned into the most generous of women. Sabrina and Tara now corresponded often and were growing close.

  However, as for Sabrina . . . she felt a bit of discontent. Once their house was set up, she found herself at loose ends.

  Motherhood would fill her time . . . perhaps. She enjoyed helping in the surgery . . . but wondered if there was something else she should be doing. She adored her husband and was always ready to show him her adoration . . . but try as she might, one couldn’t make love every hour of the day.

  She began to wonder if there wasn’t something else for her and often said as much to Cormac.

  One night, as he held her in his arms, he teased her about the way she enjoyed reading the papers for stories of crimes. “It seems to be one of your favorite interests.”

  That was true. Sabrina enjoyed a good mystery and often wished she knew more of the details behind the stories she read. It helped to ease her boredom. She’d also thought back to when she’d been searching for her father and Mr. Kinnion. Yes, Cormac’s presence had made that time important and exciting, but she’d also enjoyed the puzzle of unraveling the mystery.

  When a strongbox was found missing at the local milliners, Sabrina had reasoned out who had taken it based upon clues she’d learned one afternoon spent trying on hats. She’d caught the apprentice in his lie. The milliner had been so thankful for Sabrina’s help, he’d created a special bonnet just for her.

  A week later, upon hearing a tale of a missing boy, Sabrina had asked a few discreet questions and learned of the lad’s last movements. She’d taken Rolf to that section of the city, and with the hound’s keen nose, they’d found the boy, trapped in a well that someone had covered. The lad had thought to hide there and had been too clever for his own good. Sabrina, Lady Ballin, was hailed as a heroine for saving his life.

  Then, a few days later, while Sabrina was enjoying her afternoon cup of tea, Cormac appeared in the doorway. “I have a surprise for you,” he said.

  Sabrina liked surprises. “What is it?”

  Cormac held out his hand. “Come.” He took her downstairs. “Now, close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “Please, wife, don’t argue.”

  “But I argue so well,” Sabrina protested.

  “You do,” he agreed. “Now, close them.”

  She did as he asked and he led her outside. He turned her so that she faced the house they rented. “Open them,” he whispered in her ear.

  Sabrina wasn’t certain what to expect. She didn’t know if he’d had the door painted or placed some other embellishment on the house.

  For a moment, she didn’t see what he’d done.

  The entrance of their home also served as the doorway for his surgery. There was a sign beside the door with the name Ballin and the picture of a surgeon’s knife and forceps.

  Below this sign was another. It said, DISCREET INVESTIGATIONS AND INQUIRIES. The symbol was crossed andirons.

  “What is this?” Sabrina asked.

  “A challenge for you,” he said. “I know you have had too much time on your hands. The city offers too many comforts for a country lass like yourself. One of my patients, Lady Dinwiddie, suggested that such a service would be of benefit to people of her class. She suggested that having someone with your sense of discretion could be of service to someone like herself. She was very impressed with the tale of how you found that lad.

  At first, Sabrina didn’t know if she liked the idea. She considered it a moment. “Discreet Investigations and Inquiries.” She looked at her husband. “Exactly what does that mean?”

  “It can mean whatever we wish.”

  “Would you help?”

  “When I could. I would not like your running off alone, like you did the day you searched for the boy—”

  “I had Rolf with me.”

  “I would prefer you had me with you. Nor do I believe you should have all the fun.”

  Sabrina looked back at the sign, and the sense of ennui that had plagued her lifted. He was giving her permission to do whatever she wished. It w
as a wonderful gift. She ran her fingers over the sign plaque.

  “I like this,” she said. “I do. But I won’t push it. I mean, I have responsibilities here.”

  “You do,” her husband agreed, opening the door for her to go inside.

  “I can’t go traipsing all over the place the way I did looking for that boy.” She started up the stairs to their living quarters.

  “Or to find that strongbox,” he agreed.

  “Yes,” she said thoughtfully. “However, it would be nice if those who had inquiries to be made would come to me instead of my having to search them out.”

  “I thought you would find it easier,” he murmured.

  “And it would be a service,” Sabrina allowed.

  “It definitely helps those who need help.”

  She stopped at the top of the stairs and faced him. “Do you realize, I’m excited. This is the most intriguing thing anyone has ever done for me.”

  Cormac smiled. “I thought you would be pleased.”

  “And you will help?”

  “I will insist upon it.”

  Her mind danced with possibilities, but then she said, “Who will need such a service? Truly? I mean it is a fine idea, but . . .” She let her voice trail off, aware of a strong disappointment.

  “We’ll see,” her husband answered, and placed a kiss on her cheek. He started to return to his surgery, but Sabrina couldn’t let him go without a proper kiss, which led to the bedroom, where they celebrated her new venture with enthusiasm.

  However, he had planted a seed, one Sabrina hoped would bear fruit. Whatever happened with “Discreet Inquiries and Investigations,” it was a lovely thought that she was married to a man who was so aware of her, he would allow her to contemplate such a thing.

  The next day, Sabrina was in her husband’s surgery, writing accounts in the ledger, when a woman of middling years and a sad, worried countenance entered the office.

  “Excuse me,” she said to Sabrina, “I saw the sign on the door. Is this the place where one can find help?”

  For a second, Sabrina couldn’t think of what she’d meant. She’d almost forgotten the existence of the sign.

  “Discreet Inquiries,” the woman repeated to prod her memory.