by Julia Donner
Emily teased, “Then if you will not reminisce, let us talk of people we know.”
Ana’s eyes lost the hint of sadness and twinkled above her broad smile. “Which is also tedious. Most of the people here are relatives! Nothing interesting in that.”
“Only if you exclude Horace Graham’s unfortunate predilection for staring down one’s décolletage,” Emily dryly noted.
“Or Cousin Jessica’s unfortunate off-putting breath and her insistence to carry her dog everywhere she goes. We are spared that, as least. Aunt Agatha would have the smelly creature skinned if Jessica dared to bring it in here.”
The boys did stay nearby after she introduced them to her friend. The lads did her proud when they bowed and obediently sat on chairs against the wall to allow privacy for Ana and her to talk. Emily suspected that was Waldo’s doing. He sat stiff and proud while Howie eyed the refreshment table, undoubtedly thinking of filling another plate. He was so like his father, insatiable, but in some other ways, and that made her pinch back a grin.
“Ana, do you know that gentleman, the one standing by the terrace doors? No, don’t look at him. He’s been staring at you from the moment he entered.”
“I doubt that. It must be you. We don’t see a lot of tartan in London.”
“There’s plenty of it in the room this evening, and we wouldn’t think of not wearing the colors for Aunt Agatha’s sake. Ana, he has to be looking at you. I’m not tall enough to be seen in this crowd. It’s only when people move about that I can see him, and he’s always quite obviously looking at you.”
Ana raised an imperious eyebrow in the direction of the gentleman who so blatantly stared at her. “Rather forward, I should think, with or without an introduction.”
“Yes, but one must consider that he has a set of shoulders like Hugh’s. And those black eyes! He looks like the Old Ones of Ireland. How intriguing. Aren’t you the least bit interested? I’m sure it wouldn’t be difficult to find someone here to supply an introduction.”
Ana moved so that her back faced the rude fellow. “I’m a guest in Lady Goring’s house for the sole purpose of making an estimate for the inventory of her library. She insisted I come to her party, but to be honest, the only reason I’m here was the opportunity to see you. I have no time for social engagements, and I’m too old for flirtations.”
“Shame, Ana. A woman is never too old to flirt!”
“But you have that gift. I never had that ability and don’t wish to develop it merely for the sake of appreciation for a gentleman’s physique.”
Emily was about to teasingly ask if her friend’s show of disdain was all for show when a familiar voice made the hairs on her arms rise.
“How delighted I am to find you here, Emily.”
She slowly lifted her gaze to connect with Langston Blake’s. How had he gotten in here?
Her stiff posture had alerted the boys, who had been sitting quietly since having their ever-ravenous appetites temporarily appeased. Waldo fought off boredom with daydreaming, while Howie kicked his heels against the chair legs. She sensed them coming to attention with the rare talent they had inherited from their father, an instinctive alertness, as if they could scent the approach of a threat.
When she didn’t speak, Langston smoothly requested, “Will you introduce me to your lovely companion?”
Acutely aware of curious glances turned in their direction and the boys’ sliding off their chairs, Emily modulated her expression and voice, infusing her reply with cool calm. “I think not.”
Blake took a step nearer. “If this is how you wish to go on, then I suggest we take our discussion to a more private area.”
Ana had moved closer so she could brush her fingertips over Emily’s. Unafraid of candor, Ana said, “Sir, I am Tatiana Worth, an invited guest. As a family member and longtime friend of Lady Goring’s niece, I believe I have an understanding of her sentiments. At this time, Lady Exton-Lloyd chooses to not acknowledge your acquaintance. Sir, behave as a gentleman should and excuse yourself from our company.”
Blake’s eyes glittered for an instant. His mouth twitched a half smile, then he took another step. Emily felt the boys edging nearer. As her heart began to race, she felt Ana’s fingers tighten around her wrist.
In a low, ugly tone, Blake murmured, “Do you dare me to announce your secret to the assembled? You wish to take that sort of chance with your reputation and Sir Hugh’s?”
The image of the horrendous scene, the humiliation of her family and Hugh’s, and the spoiling of Aunt Agatha’s party bore down on her heart. It would be all over town. The idea of a scandal-inducing incident in the newspapers made her throat go dry.
There was also Blake’s involvement with the Sutherlands, who were vigorous proponents of clearance practices. The reception hall was choked with longtime sympathizers with the Highland causes and their ongoing plight of being evicted from their homes. Some of the guests had raised monies to offset the poverty. Party guests had lost relatives to the clearances, knew of entire families and villages forced into city slums and to relocate across the sea. Blake’s presence had created a marked change in the tone of the room, but he was too intent on his own purpose to notice the shift in mood.
Her apprehension escalated into outright alarm when Blake smirked. He’d barged his way into this private family assembly, threatened to not merely ruin the celebration for Aunt Agatha, he’d also preset the conditions for mayhem. More than one man here would feel justified in hauling the interloper from the room and throwing him out into the street. In addition to that possibility and its opportunity of making an appearance in the next day’s newspapers, Blake had been drinking. He reeked of brandy.
Before she could answer, Waldo stepped between them. He didn’t look three feet shorter than Langston Blake. He looked every inch his father. “Sir, your presence is not welcome.”
Howie joined him with his scariest scowl in place. “If you don’t take yourself off and stop annoying my Step-mama, I’m going to kick you on the shin.”
Blake huffed a startled laugh, clearly amazed, while Emily’s eyes flooded with tears. What wonderful little champions! She wished she could hug and kiss them.
Her nemesis wasn’t impressed and sneered down at her protectors. “These two could use some instruction with a cane.”
A thrill of violent, protective outrage sent a threat flying out of her mouth in a harsh whisper. “You touch them, and you won’t be waiting for their father’s revenge.” She added a stable yard epithet in Gaelic that made Howie snigger.
Blake’s upper lip twisted with a sneer. “How common, Emily. You always were, but you will come with me or I’ll make a scene at Lady Goring’s party that will be written up in all the London papers.”
Not liking Blake’s tone, Waldo started to reach down to his right stocking.
Emily swiftly gripped his shoulder. “Waldo, I shall be fine. Howie, would you and your brother keep Miss Worth company? I will only be gone a moment.”
Waldo lifted a worried gaze up to her and said in Gaelic, “Mother, you must not go with this bad man.”
Howie wrinkled his nose and creased his forehead in a threatening scowl. “Aye. Let us stick him in the ribs.”
A startled choke cut off her laughter. The image of Howie doing just that and the small infusion of the comic into this calamity lent her courage. She shook her head and cupped Howie’s chin. “I didn’t know Mr. Gilchrist was teaching you more than tickling for fish and the gillie’s ways. Thank you for being such lovely lads. Now, keep Miss Worth company, as I asked. I will only be a few minutes. I promise.”
Waldo stayed with the Gaelic. “Do you want my little knife?”
It took every fiber of control she had not to kiss his cheek in public. She was not as fluent as the boys and had to answer in English. “I don’t think it will come to that, but thank you.” Turning to Ana, she warned her with a level, meaningful stare. “Watch my sons for me, will you?”
Tight-lipped, An
a nodded and placed a hand on each boy’s shoulder to keep them in place.
It wasn’t easy, allowing Blake to take her elbow and escort her from the room. Her skin shrank from his touch. Her stomach rolled. Curious and irate glances followed. She prayed Hugh didn’t come back in time to see her going anywhere with a former lover. She would never forget and avoided remembering Hugh’s reaction the last time he discovered her with Langston Blake.
Chapter 26
Blake closed the door she asked to be left ajar. The reception hall was only one floor above. A footman stood outside the door, and yet she felt as alone as if she sailed to a distant land. She had to get this interview over with quickly. She felt some relief from getting Blake away from Aunt Agatha and the guests, but now worried about Hugh. The thought of him catching her alone again with Blake—the soul-crushing memory of the betrayal on his face the last time—made her frantic inside.
She choked down the urge to vomit when he approached and bent over her. He reeked of superiority, spirits, and drunken confidence. What had she seen in this man? Her insides cringed at the recollection of them in bed together. The notion of vomiting on his boots was beginning to have a certain charm.
When she pinched back a smile, Blake closed the space between them and sloppily crooned, “Remembering our last rendezvous, my darling?”
Brandy fumes wafted into her face. She refused to make eye contact and tried to keep her attention on his chin. His neckwear was stained with what appeared to be wine drops and meat juices. Even though his bulk was larger than Hugh’s, she felt no physical fear. He might strike her. She could bear that. Sexual assault worried her more. His touch, she could not tolerate even the thought of it, but would have to endure to save her family from embarrassment. Fortunately, she knew this man’s limits. He would not be able to perform while in his cups. She didn’t doubt that he needed liquor for coming here uninvited.
It was imperative to show no fear. She pivoted, crossed the room to the fireplace, and whirled to confront the lout. “Actually, Langston, I do recollect that pathetic event. A rather poor performance on your part, if I remember correctly. And I quite unfortunately do.”
He belched and wiped away the spittle it had caused with the back of his wrist. “A slut must be allowed to make comparisons, I suppose, with that much experience.”
Her temper got the better of her good sense. “Watch what comes out of that foul mouth, or I’ll let my sons take a piece of your hide.”
He barked a laugh. “Chips off the old man, I agree. Probably as bugger-mean as he is. Never knew that about him, did you, old girl? Hugh has a dark half. Showed it to me once. Unfairly, of course.”
“So that’s where you acquired the dead tooth in front. From what I know of you, I’m sure you had it coming.”
He snorted and blearily scanned the room. Finding a liquor tray, he crossed to it and poured a glass to the brim. He saluted her and took a deep swallow. “Ah, that’s what was needed. Your aunt’s butler knows his whiskey. Where was I? Ah, yes, Hugh and his quick temper. Never thought he’d be touchy about the bed games of a distant relative, but there you have it. Certainly never imagined he was saving you for himself. Especially not with you shagging me.”
Surprise cast aside her concern for the present situation when she comprehended his meaning. She took a step and halted. “Hugh struck you because of something you said about me?”
“T’was merely a compliment on the excellence of your figure. There is that something about it, you know. Not much different from other females, but you have a hint of availability. Drives us men to make fools of ourselves.” He took another swallow. “But I’m not going to let you make a fool of me again, my girl. That child you carry is mine. I can prove it and have the witnesses.”
Alarm made the room fade out of focus for a moment. Was it possible? Could he take her baby even though she had married Hugh? And if it went to court, the scandal would be unimaginable. The gossip rags would feast on it like lions on the kill.
Hugh, she couldn’t do that to him. How was she to face Waldo and Howie? They had defended her, trusted her. For the first time in her life, she understood the meaning of freezing terror. Her mind refused to function. The urge to flee took over, capturing her soul and rational thought. Blake stood between her and escape, then the door clicked open.
Hugh entered, looked at her and at Blake. A jolt of shock followed by horror leached the strength from her limbs. Her heart began to shatter. How was she to explain, to let him know the truth? Would he ever trust her again? Somehow she had to make this right.
He paused to quietly close the door, then came to her side. She hadn’t realized that she was weeping until Hugh handed her his handkerchief. When she continued to stare up at him, begging with her eyes to forgive, unable to take the linen from his hand, he dabbed her cheeks.
“As my nurse used to say, dinna fash, lovie,” he whispered with a sad smile. “Tis naught but a dream.”
Then the gentle look in his eyes sharpened. He became the old Hugh she had always thought of as a dried-out stick, but this time, she saw the steel underneath, the inflexible pride of the English gentleman. He was also a descendant of a Crusader mercenary, his blood infused with that of the marauder Scot. His assurance when he turned away from her to confront her drunken former lover evoked a wave of shame, for involvement with the lout and her weakness. She shared a portion of the same blood as Hugh’s. She had no excuse for giving in to a scoundrel.
The humiliation that squashed her heart eased when Hugh’s hand wrapped around her cold fingers. His warmth bled courage into her veins. Although he looked directly at Blake, he said, “Mother is waiting, Emily.”
She hiccoughed a breath. “Your mother’s here?”
“I told you she preferred to make an entrance. She brought her gift, an entourage.”
Blake tossed back what was left in the tumbler and smacked the thick glass on the tray. “Time to meet the rest of the family. I never did say how I thought it was demmed decent of you to help us out of this. Takes bollocks to marry a female when she’s baking another man’s get.”
A corner of Hugh’s mouth lifted with a cold grin. “No gallant effort on my part, I assure you. She was in an interesting condition when we quarreled and parted ways. Didn’t tell me at the time. Apparently she didn’t tell you either.”
Emily leaned her shoulder into Hugh’s arm. Taking his cue, she said in a mocking tone, “Langston, how dense and utterly blind of you not to see the obvious. I was merely using you to make Hugh jealous. He required encouragement to come up to scratch, you see.”
Blake absorbed the lie with a stare of blank confusion that quickly turned to disbelief. He weaved in place and almost fell when he shouted, “That child is mine. I want it and will take you to court to prove it!”
Bored, Hugh answered, “If you must make an ass of yourself in public, you must. Have at it. Take the issue to court, but you’ll not live to do so.”
Emily looked up at Hugh’s stony expression. A glint in his stare made her softly beg, “No duels, please.”
He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “He isn’t worthy of a matter of honor, my love. Oh, I forgot to give you this. It’s from Waldo.” He reached into a side pocket. “He wrapped it up in your friend’s handkerchief.”
The embroidered linen fell open, exposing the small knife cradled in the white cloth. Hugh lifted her hand, uncurled her fingers, and placed the blade in her palm. “He started to offer it to me, having forgot that I had brought my own.”
Hugh kissed her cheek and leaned sideways to withdraw the sgian dubh from his stocking. When Hugh gripped the blade with purpose, Blake staggered back. “You can’t! I’ve been drinking. I’ll meet you anywhere, anytime.”
“I see no reason to delay. You were a soldier and have more experience than I. That should balance things out nicely.” He flipped the knife and caught it by its haft. “This belonged to the Laird of Cromrie. He wore it in the final uprising. Amazi
ng how it inspires me with the urge to dispense justice and have done with your interference. Your tongue first, I think. Then the rest of you in manageable pieces. Although small, this blade is sharp. Still, I suppose I shall have to saw a bit off at a time.”
When Hugh advanced, Emily stepped in front of him and gripped his lapels. “Hugh, no. He’s not worth it. Not a gentleman in any sense. He’s nothing but a drunken coward and a bully. Let’s go back to the party. Please!”
Hugh glared at Blake, who now sagged against the wall. Under her grip, she felt his resolve, the leashed violence of his intention. She dropped her forehead onto his chest. “Please, Hugh. Let the footmen take him out the back door. No scandal. Not for Aunt Agatha’s celebration.” In a whisper, she pleaded, “Not for our child.”
Hugh had been leaning into her. She felt him relent the moment before he stepped back. Over her head, he asked, his voice hardened by scorn and suppressed fury, “Did you hear that, Blake? Our child. Not yours. Don’t make a greater fool of yourself by taking legal action.”
Blake rubbed a fist over his mouth. His complexion had gone from pale to green-tinged. When he yielded with a nod, Hugh added, “Never come near her and mine.”
When Hugh leaned sideways to sheath the blade, she released the desperate grip she had on his lapels. He left her side to go and open the door, where he issued a low order to the footman standing there. He returned to her and waited with his arm firmly around her shoulder, until two more footmen came in and escorted Blake out.
The door silently closed. She couldn’t look Hugh in the eye. She pinched her lips together to keep them from quivering and hold the tears at bay.
Resting her cheek against his chest, she whispered, “You must believe me. I didn’t want to come in here with him. He threatened to make a scene. Two of your cousins were on the edge of dragging him from the room. The boys, they…it would have been horribly embarrassing. They would’ve been so ashamed of me.”
