Forgetting the Scot

by Jennifer Trethewey

  Jemima dropped the brass dagger into Virginia’s hand. She set it on the desk, then wrapped an arm around the young woman. “You must sit down and collect yourself. It’s absolutely imperative that you remain calm.”

  Bulford thundered down the stairs and strode into the parlor. He peered out the window. “The constable is on his way. Listen to me, both of you. This is what happened: Langley shot Magnus. When he tried to attack you, I stabbed him. Do you understand? I stabbed Langley, he staggered out of the house and into the street. Nod if you understand me.”

  …

  When he claimed consciousness again, he was in a room. Too many people, he thought. Too many people in the room all talking at once. “Go away,” he called out, but the sound he made was “gah wah.”

  “What, darling? What is it?”

  Virginia. He smiled. She hadn’t left him. Thank God. And she was smiling, a good sign he wasn’t dying. He indicated his lips and mouthed the word “water.” She held his head and let him drink from a cup. Sweet water trickled into his mouth, loosening his tongue and easing his throat enough to talk again.

  Then Bull shoved his English face in front of him. “Back with the living, eh, sport? Had us all fooled for a moment there.”

  “I wasnae fooling. I was shot, Goddamn it. Who shot me?”

  “That would be Langley.”

  “I’ll kill him.” He tried struggling to a sitting position, but a dull ache in his chest along with Bull’s hand kept him pinned to the bed. Hell, he was weak as a kitten.

  “Too late, I’m afraid. After he shot you, he fled the house. I chased him and, well, he didn’t look where he was going and…” Bulford wrinkled his long nose. “Trampled by a draft horse and coal cart. Not a pretty sight. Bit of poetic justice, if you ask me. Isn’t that how he claimed Virginia died?”

  “Damn. I wanted to kill him.”

  “Bad luck all the way around. What puzzles me is why aren’t you dead? I saw him shoot you square in the chest not ten feet away.”

  Someone pulled Bull out of the picture. Garfield. Thank God. A man with a functioning brain. “The gun didn’t have a full charge.”

  “But I saw you load it.”

  “Yes, well, I didn’t intend to kill anyone with it. Just slow them down.”

  “What happened to you?”

  Garfield rubbed at his bandaged head. “Got some sense knocked into me, I suppose.”

  “You should find your bed, Garfield,” Virginia said. “And everyone else should leave so Magnus can rest.”

  Bull touched his shoulder. “I know you must feel like hell, Sinclair, but I have to get you out of the city, at least for a while. I spoke to the magistrate. He believes me, for now. Things could change by morning. Langley’s father, Lord Bromley, will be out for blood when he learns what’s happened. He can’t touch me, but he might get it into his head that hanging a Scot would bring him satisfaction. Rest for a few hours, and I’ll be back to collect you early tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Bull.” Magnus raised a hand halfheartedly to the murmurs of good nights until the door to the room shut and he and Virginia were alone. “Who was that other woman? The one who was screaming when I got to the house.”

  “That was Langley’s second viscountess. She’s the reason I called you and Bulford off this morning.”

  “Aye. That.” This morning’s anger seeped back into his muscles. “And why did you want to stay with him?”

  “I promise you, I never wanted to stay with him.” She stroked a hand through his hair, wiping away his doubt and frustration. “It’s a long story and I promise to tell you everything, but you must rest.”

  He looked around the room. “Is this your bedchamber?”

  “Yes.” Her cheeks colored a pretty pink.

  “Take your hair down, a nighean, and lie with me. I need you by me.”

  She only hesitated for a moment before putting the latch on the door. “It’s funny. Now that I’m a ruined woman, I no longer care what Aunt Mina or the servants think.” She slipped off her gown, removed the pins from her hair, and let the whisky-colored tresses tumble down her back one by one. “Nor do I care what Society thinks of me. It’s rather freeing, actually.”

  “I’m sorry I’ve ruined you.”

  “I’m not sorry.” She drew a silver-handled brush through the tangle of her hair, a slow, mesmerizing movement.

  She set her spectacles on the dressing table, drew the sheet aside, and slipped in next to him, the mattress barely dipping from her weight. Someone had removed his clothing. Only his wound was dressed. Which still hurt like bloody hell. Fortunately, Virginia’s fresh rosewater scent, the tickle of her loose hair on his shoulder, and the slippery, silky sensation of her shift sliding down his skin was enough distraction to let him forget his pain. Naked and at her mercy, it made him hard as brass.

  She gently traced a finger over his bruised eye. “What happened here?”

  “Someone’s fist.”

  “And here?” She ran her finger down the bridge of his nose.

  “Someone else’s elbow.”

  She kissed his lower lip. “And here?”

  “Another one’s forehead.”

  “Three?”

  “Six, actually.”

  “I see.”

  “Sorry, I was fighting. I ken it’s not gentlemanly.”

  “Close your eyes,” she whispered. She kissed his collarbone and laid a hand on his belly. “Does it hurt if I touch you here?”

  “Nae.”

  She slid her hand downward until her fingers raked his shorthairs. “Does it hurt if I touch you here?”

  “Nae.”

  “What about…” Her silky hand circled his cock. “Here?”

  He released a strangled, “No.”

  “Or here?” Sweet Jesus, she had hold of his balls.

  “You are going to undo me, lass.”

  She made a deep, wicked-sounding chuckle and wrapped her soft, warm lips around his part.

  …

  Virginia rose early, careful not to disturb Magnus. The surgeon had said what he needed most was healing sleep. She’d also coaxed a good amount of laudanum down him late in the evening, a dose adequate for a horse.

  On the way down the hall, she found the upstairs maid exiting the guest room. “Is the other Lady Langley awake?”

  “No, m’lady. But I’ve left her one of your gowns and a clean shift.”

  “Very good. Bring my breakfast to the parlor. I have some letters to write.”

  “Yes, m’lady.” She bobbed a curtsy.

  “Oh, and tell Garfield he is to remain abed until the doctor says it’s all right to rise.”

  “Yes, m’lady.” She bobbed another curtsy and rushed off in the opposite direction.

  Virginia avoided the breakfast room. Mina would be there, and she hadn’t yet decided what to do with the spiteful woman. Thinking she’d save the St. James house for herself, Mina had sent a note around to Langley’s gambling hell yesterday morning. Her aunt had betrayed her and Jemima, placing them in jeopardy. The result had been Langley’s death, and serious injury to Magnus and Garfield.

  She swept into the parlor, relieved to find it put back in order. The furniture had been righted. The broken dishes cleaned away, and a valiant attempt had been made to clean the blood from the carpet. A visitor would not notice the faint stain, but she would always know the blood was there, a mixture of both Magnus and Garfield’s, the two men who’d vowed to lay down their lives to keep hers safe, and very nearly had.

  Virginia dashed off a note to Richards, Begley & Sorenson, Esquires. In it, she’d requested that Mr. Snowdon contact Mrs. Pennyweather immediately and let her know she had not forgotten her promise. They would begin plans for the home as soon as Virginia received her trust money from Langley’s estate.

  She would have to write another, a much longer, more carefully worded letter to Bromley Hall. She hated the earl, but he loved his son. Someone should break the news of Langley’s passing
to him with care. She pulled the bell, and Iris trotted in seconds later.

  “Send Sam in to see me.”

  “Yes, m’lady.” Iris crashed into the substantial figure of Virginia’s dour aunt on the way out.

  “Watch where you’re going, girl,” Mina barked.

  Iris murmured apologies and scurried away.

  “Just what in God’s name are you up to?”

  Virginia pulled a fresh sheet of parchment from the drawer and dipped her quill. “I am deciding where you should make your next home.” She didn’t spare Mina a look, just kept her head down and continued to write.

  “This is my home. It always has been.”

  “I know you have your own money. You are perfectly capable of living on your own.”

  “You can’t send me away. I won’t allow it.

  Virginia lifted her head. “I suggest you leave this room and make yourself scarce. The more you displease me, the less I’m inclined to feel sympathy for you.”

  Sam entered the parlor. Good. Mina wouldn’t want to air their family squabble in front of the servants.

  “I am sickened by your behavior since your return. I can only hope you come to your senses before you cause irreparable damage to the reputation of this family.” Mina spun a military turn on her heel and marched out.

  Sam coughed into his fist, a poor attempt at covering his smile.

  “Good morning, Sam.”

  “It is indeed, m’lady.”

  “Take this letter to my solicitor right away. When you reach Bromley Hall with the second letter, wait there. The staff will pack Lady Langley’s belongings for you to bring back here.”

  Sam left and Virginia rang the bell for Iris again. The girl must have been standing outside the parlor door because she appeared immediately.

  “I know things have been terribly chaotic. The staff must be wondering what will happen next.”

  Iris glanced at the blood stain and clasped her hands behind her back. She gave a tight-lipped nod.

  “I don’t want anyone to worry. No one is in danger of losing her position no matter what my tyrant aunt says.”

  “Thank you, m’lady.”

  “There may be some backlash over the next few months with His Lordship’s sudden passing. I will do my best to handle what comes our way as gracefully as possible. There will be plenty of gossip, too. Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about that. If anyone wants to find another circumstance, I will understand and they will have my good references.”

  “No one will leave you, m’lady.”

  “Thank you, Iris. That’s comforting to know.” Much more comforting than Iris could ever imagine. “That’s all, then.”

  “Yes, m’lady.”

  “Oh, and would you have a bath sent up to Mr. Sinclair?”

  “Right away, m’lady.”

  Magnus had to leave London. Today. For his own safety. He’d babbled about Scotland last night in his laudanum and passion-induced delirium. He wanted to take her back with him. She hadn’t contradicted him. He’d been in pain and was foggy about what had happened. This morning she would have to explain it to him again. She could not leave London. Her purpose was here with the children. Once Bulford had determined the danger to Magnus had passed, if he wished to return to London and share a life with her, she would welcome him. She would not ask him, though. He had to make that decision for himself.

  …

  Magnus folded his body in three and lowered his arse into a lady-sized steel tub. Everything in England was too small for him. Yet, despite the cramped quarters, the hot water was soothing. He let his muscles relax and released a long breath. One of the boys who’d brought the bath had helped him remove his bandage. The angry hole in his chest hadn’t scabbed over, but it wasn’t deep and no longer bled. He’d have another scar to add to his war wounds.

  The Romany woman had been right. The Englishman had killed him. And Declan’s dream had proved true, as well. A pretty lady had kissed him alive again. What would happen next? He closed his eyes and let his head rest against the tub.

  The door to the bedchamber opened and he grinned. His Virginia had come to wash his back.

  “Ah, splendid. Glad to see you alive and well.”

  His eyes flew open. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?”

  “I’ve brought you clean clothes.”

  “Set them down and leave.” Magnus closed his eyes again.

  “What? No ‘Thank you for fetching the surgeon, Bulford’? No, ‘Thank you for carrying me to bed like a baby, Bulford’?”

  “You couldnae carry me.”

  “I had help, but the point is, I bore most of your weight.” He crossed his arms. “As any friend would.”

  Magnus opened one eye. The dry wit that colored most of what Bull usually said had been replaced with earnest. “Thank you, Bulford.”

  A sincere smile spread across the man’s face. Surprised by his own feelings, he returned a grateful one of his own.

  Bull rubbed his hands together. “One of the maids brushed out your coat and laundered your trousers.” He pulled a stool closer to the tub and sat. “I’m afraid there’s no hope for your shirt, but I’ve bought you a new one. I would have given you one of mine but—”

  “I’m bigger than you.”

  Bull gave a hearty laugh. “Yes, I suppose that’s true. In fact, I’ve never met a man who could meet your measure, Sinclair.”

  He appreciated Bull’s double meaning. He guessed the Englishman rarely issued compliments of that sort. “Did you meet that other woman? The other Lady Langley?” he asked.

  “I spoke with her briefly after the, em.” He gestured to Magnus’s chest. “She’s the reason for Lady Langley’s change of heart yesterday morning—the First Lady Langley, that is. When she found out my sister’s oldest friend, Jemima Huntington, was Langley’s new wife, she couldn’t in good conscience leave her to the monster. So, out of love for Lucy, she snatched the Second Lady Langley from Bromley Hall with the intention of pressuring Langley to annul the second marriage.”

  “Did she—the Second Lady Langley—did she stab Langley with a letter knife or did I dream that?”

  “You didn’t dream it. But I told the magistrate I stabbed Langley to deflect attention from the ladies. He believed my story without question. Still, I worry for them. Last night was a nightmare. I fear they were traumatized.”

  “Dinnae fash yourself. I ken women have more strength than we give them credit for.”

  Bulford smiled. “Quite right, Sinclair. Let’s hope they recover quickly.”

  “Lucky for both of them Langley’s dead.”

  “Yes, well, that raises a whole new set of issues. Lady Langley—”

  “The first or the second?” Magnus asked.

  “The First Lady Langley has little chance of recovering her trust money, she inherits nothing as she’s given Langley no heirs and the earl is still living, and in the end, there is the question of who is the viscountess, Lady Langley or…Lady Langley?”

  “Surely any court will find for the viscountess,” Magnus said.

  “The first or the—”

  “Bloody hell, man. Just say Virginia or Jemima.”

  “Fine. In any case, the title will do Virginia little good. In the end, she’ll be lucky to retain this house.”

  “Doesnae matter.” Magnus waved him off. “She’s free now. She’ll come with me back to Scotland.” When Bull didn’t say anything, Magnus looked at him. “What?”

  Bull shook himself and rose. “Nothing. Chop-chop, Sinclair. We need to leave London. The sooner the safer.”

  A quarter of an hour later, washed, bandaged, and dressed, Magnus went below to find Virginia in the parlor. Something was amiss. She stood in the middle of the room, her back unreasonably straight, her hands clasped together and twisting, the right hand trying to strangle the left. Still, she looked magnificent.

  “Come,” he said, reaching for her. “Bull is waiting.”

  �
�I’m not coming with you.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve asked Bulford to take you back to Maidstone Hall.”

  “And you?”

  “I’ll remain here, of course,” she said.

  “I’m no’ leaving London without you.”

  “You must.” She lifted her lovely chin. “It’s for your safety. Just until this business blows over. Then you can—”

  “Stop this now, woman. Pack some things and we’ll send for the rest. We’re leaving today.”

  He took a step closer. She backed away. “No. I can’t leave. You know I can’t leave.”

  “Dinnae be daft. There’s nae reason to stay. You’re free. Come awa’ wi’ me. We’re leaving London.”

  In a flash, Virginia’s tentative demeanor altered to one of anger. “No. I’m not leaving. This is my home.”

  He took several steps toward her before he saw the warning in her eyes. “I brought you here to reclaim your life because I thought that’s what you deserved. But after seeing all this—this city, these people—I dinnae belong in this wretched place and neither do you.”

  “Yes, I do. The children need me.”

  The children. The damn home. Bloody Mrs. Pennyweather. He wanted to yell, To hell with the children, I need you, but the words balled up in his throat with his new and sudden understanding. She was safe now. She no longer needed him. Virginia had a purpose in London. He did not.

  They stood motionless for what seemed a long time. He foolishly waited for her to change her mind, to tell him she loved him as much as he loved her and that she never wanted to live without him. But she didn’t say anything. The hole in his chest ached, a stabbing pain almost as powerful as when he’d been shot, and he staggered back a step.

  “Magnus?”

  He had to turn away from her. The pity in her eyes might kill him. As he walked away, she said something to him, but he couldn’t hear her over the thundering in his heart.

  Bloody Bulford was waiting for him outside. He’d found another impossibly small carriage.

  “Virginia?” Bulford asked.

  “She’s no’ coming.” Magnus climbed in and flung himself on the seat not caring if he took up the majority of room. He wasn’t going to sacrifice his comfort just because the damnable Englishman refused to find a large enough conveyance.