“No, I did not.” Alec had been seven when his mother had taken him back to England with her. He’d been furious, as only a child can, that she hadn’t left him with his father and brother in Scotland, in the only home he’d ever known. But he hadn’t understood the true reason why she’d fled. Why she’d had to.
Of course, he wasn’t going to discuss it with a man whose family had been at odds with his own, more often than not, for the better part of several centuries. “Does the duchess intend on making an appearance tonight?” Alec asked. If Connie wasn’t going to attend, then he wasn’t going to waste any more of his time with this lot.
The change in topic seemed to stop Lord Fergus short for a moment. “Do you know my brother’s wife?”
“Aye. I do,” Alec confirmed, once again glancing around at the guests but catching no sight of the lady in question. Which meant she wasn’t in the room, because as much as he hadn’t particularly liked the duke-chasing debutant she had become, she’d always stood out like a brilliant jewel, lighting up any room she was in.
“She was meant to come down and host the event, of course. But, well…” Lord Fergus began, but there was a slight hesitation in his words as he started to awkwardly fiddle with his cravat. “Sometimes she falls ill…a migraine or the like, and cannot attend.”
Alec raised a brow. He’d known Connie a long time, and he’d never known her to suffer from migraines or any debilitating illnesses for that matter.
He still remembered when he’d met her, all those years ago. He’d been a lofty fifteen and she a precocious child of ten, when she and Sophie had been playing together in the woods adjacent to his grandfather’s estate in Devonshire. The girls had stumbled upon a fox whose leg was caught in a trap some poachers had set. They’d both raced over to Alec’s residence and begged him to help free the creature. Of course, he had assisted them. And every summer after, until he went away to university, he’d helped them save the various animals they came across. They’d both seemed to revere him as a bit of a knight in shining armor back then.
But when he’d next met Lady Connie, after her coming out, she’d changed. A lot. The girl he’d once known had turned into a full-fledged debutant, who had decided he was clearly no longer suitable to be in her vicinity. After all, he may have been the youngest son of a Scottish earl, but the scandal that had accompanied his parents’ divorce had followed them to England, including the gossip about his parentage. Enough to ensure that, though he was tolerated by Society, he would never be truly accepted by them. And Connie had followed the crowd in that respect.
Which had unexpectedly hurt.
They’d had little interaction in the intervening years, though he’d often glimpsed her dazzling the young bucks at whatever ball they were both attending. But never once, in the years he’d known her, had she ever missed a social event on account of being ill. She’d always been too bloody determined and fixated on being a diamond of the first water to let sickness interfere with her social activities.
“Perhaps I should go and check on her, then? As a doctor, I might be able to assist.”
Something akin to panic flashed in the man’s eyes before he carefully looked away. “I’m sure she will be fine. Perhaps she’s just taking her time getting dressed.”
Alec could hear the lie in the man’s words, and he didn’t like it at all.
He’d never really worried about checking up on Connie before Sophie had asked, as Connie had always been one of the most self-confident and self-assured ladies of his acquaintance, even if she had liked to pretend to be a helpless damsel. But now, he wasn’t going to leave until he’d seen her and made certain she was fine.
“Is your brother here tonight?” Lord Fergus asked in an obvious attempt to change the topic.
“No,” Alec replied. “Iain can’t stand your brother, actually.” Usually he showed a bit more tact in his conversations, but there was something about Fergus and Duncan Campbell, the Duke of Kilmaine, that irritated him. And he had little patience for games.
Fergus nodded. “Aye. Most of us share your brother’s sentiments. Under his stewardship, the estate is more often than not on the verge of bankruptcy, and if it wasn’t for the duchess’s monthly dowry, we wouldn’t be here tonight. But where are my manners? I shouldn’t be discussing such matters, and Duncan is my kin. And one must put up with kin, at least while that kin is the current duke.”
An odd turn of conversation, Alec thought, though he said nothing.
Fergus sighed. “I imagine you find it just as difficult putting up with your brother as I do mine. We younger brothers have a hard lot in life, do we not? Relying on them or a father for our income. Bloody horrid. Though I suppose you have your…profession.” He looked rather pained at the thought of work. “Although I have also heard you volunteer your services to the poor? Darned dirty work, I imagine, looking after their health issues. And I doubt not very financially rewarding, especially in a place like London. Expensive city, that.”
“I manage to do all right, even with volunteering my services to those less fortunate,” Alec replied with a slight twist of his lips. The man obviously had no idea of the small fortune Alec had amassed by going into business with the Duke of Huntington.
But even if he hadn’t made a cent from the venture, Alec would never have accepted any financial assistance from his brother or father. Not after the events of the past. And as much as his father had apologized, no words could take back what had happened. Although he probably should be thankful to his father. If the old man hadn’t forced his mother and him out of Scotland all those years ago, Alec probably never would have become a doctor and experienced the joy of saving lives.
Then Alec would have been a dependent younger son, just like Fergus, living off the largess of his family’s goodwill. What a horrid way to live. Alec couldn’t think of a more worthless existence. Probably why he hated going to these social events. The lavish waste and equal boredom permeating the room from all the lords and ladies present was both frustrating and foreign to him. He had little patience for it.
As he excused himself from Fergus and strode away, an awareness danced along his spine. An almost crackling energy that he’d felt in only one lady’s presence before.
Lady Connie.
Glancing up toward the stairs, sure enough, there she was. A vision in blue. Staring down at them all, like a queen surveying her subjects.
It seemed as if the entire room paused for a moment, all drawn to her, staring in rapt attention. Then with a slight tilt of her chin, she gathered the skirts of her gown and gracefully descended into their midst; an angel visiting the realm of mortals.
The woman certainly knew how to make an entrance.
She hadn’t changed at all. Even from a distance she was still as hauntingly beautiful as ever—though he’d forgotten just how so. Alec felt like swearing. The unaccountable attraction he’d felt after seeing her on the last occasion was still there, damn it! And it was stronger than before.
He’d hoped it had just been a one-time aberration, for he’d been baffled at how he could be physically attracted to a woman whose only concern had become focused on her appearance and snagging a titled husband. Although she hadn’t always been like that. He could still remember how kind and funny she’d been, before she’d changed seemingly overnight into a vain and shallow lady. And he’d never been attracted to those types of women before.
Except for her.
And his body was still reacting to her, even though she was now a married woman. God help him. Not that he’d ever act on his attraction. He’d never dishonor a woman or any marriage vows she’d taken. He wouldn’t be a party to breaking up a marriage as his own mother’s actions had.
Connie hadn’t seen him yet, as she slowly made her way across the room, welcoming all in her path with a gracious smile and words of greeting. He wondered if she’d be happy to see him there
? Or perhaps she’d be perturbed—they had, after all, bickered quite heatedly on the last occasion they’d seen each other, a few years ago. All over a dance.
But now that she was a duchess, perhaps she wouldn’t even deign to speak with him.
His eyes continued to follow her as she charmed everyone in her path, effortlessly putting them at ease and captivating them at the same time. But that was what Connie did. She was born to be a duchess, really.
Though as she got closer, Alec saw a stiffness in her body that he hadn’t seen before. And the sparkle in her eyes, along with the easy laughter that had once bubbled from her lips, was suspiciously absent.
When her gaze skimmed across the room, for a very brief moment, Alec could swear he saw a flash of fear swim across her face. In fact, her entire body stiffened, and her fists clenched together—but it was just for an instant, and if he hadn’t been watching her so closely, he would have missed it.
He couldn’t ever remember seeing Connie fearful. She’d always been overly confident of her beauty and her position in society, much too self-assured to be afraid of anything.
Or of anyone.
He looked toward where she had been staring, and his eyes landed on her husband.
A slow, seething rage started to boil in his belly. He truly hoped he was mistaken in thinking she was frightened of her husband… Because if he wasn’t, and the duke had dared to hurt her, the semi-simmering centuries-old feud between Clan McGuiness and Clan Campbell would be reignited into a burning bonfire.
When she ducked into an alcove and out of sight, Alec didn’t hesitate to follow. There was only one way to know for sure.
Chapter Three
The swirling sea of ladies and gentlemen, gossiping and laughing as they milled about the ballroom, nearly had Connie turning tail and striding back to her bedchamber. But she couldn’t. The repercussions of doing so would be too great. Duncan would ensure that.
Instead, she’d paused at the top of the stairs and mustered all the inner strength she had left. Then she’d raised her chin and took ahold of the skirts of her dress with her gloved hand and slowly walked down the grand staircase, each step sending a small jolt of pain lancing through her body. But nonetheless, she ensured a serene smile graced her face the entire time.
Connie had become nothing if not a master at pretending.
Coming to the bottom of the steps, she began the almost automatic routine of greeting and charming the guests. A smile here, a laugh there, and a compliment thrown into the mix. Yes, she was an excellent hostess, able to make all welcome and relaxed.
For a mad moment, she wondered how relaxed they’d be if she actually spoke the truth of what went on in her private hell. They’d most likely think she was insane, for her husband was an expert at acting the attentive spouse in front of guests.
But as much as she felt like shouting the truth from the rooftops, she couldn’t let them suspect anything was amiss. A past lesson, in the way of some broken ribs and the threat of locking her in an insane asylum, had taught her that.
It was then she caught a glimpse of her husband through the crowd. He was standing across the room, charming several dowagers, who were hanging on his every word.
He was a handsome man. There was no denying that. With his tall frame and air of rakishness about him, he was never short of admirers. But then he glanced toward her, and she could see the almost imperceptible downturn of his lips, the displeasure in his gaze.
Her entire body went rigid, and she had to force the smile to stay firmly affixed to her face. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice her brief reaction, and she continued to nod and smile to those around her, all the while aware of Duncan in the distance.
He was obviously angry she’d made her appearance after the ball had commenced, but if she’d done so any earlier, it would have been apparent she’d been crying, and he would have punished her far more for that transgression than for being late.
As it was, Connie’s eyes were slightly red, though with the whiskey and champagne floating around, most of the guests would be happily oblivious. And hopefully Duncan would drink himself into a stupor, too, and then he’d forget she’d ever been late, and for a blissful night, he’d also forget she existed.
She’d have to have a quick word with the housekeeper, Mrs. Morgan, and ensure that his glass was constantly being refilled. Mrs. Morgan was always more than happy to assist, sympathetic to her mistress’s plight, especially considering the woman’s own daughter had been subjected to a husband who also liked to dish out punishment with his fists.
Sometimes Connie wished a plague on all men. Well, perhaps not all. Her brother Richard was honorable and kind, and she missed him like crazy, having not seen him since her wedding day, as he was always in Europe working on his clandestine missions for the government—not that he knew she knew of his work, but she did.
Many times, she’d thought of writing and telling Richard the truth. He, at least, would protect her, as her mother wouldn’t. But she couldn’t reveal to him what really occurred behind the closed doors of Castle Kilmaine. If she did, her brother would literally kill Duncan with his bare hands, and she would not see Richard hung over the piece of vermin that was her husband.
She caught sight of Duncan again, who was now without a glass of drink and seemed to be slowly weaving his way closer to her. Her breathing began to quicken, as did her pulse. She needed to have the servants begin to ply him with alcohol, as only then would his fixation on her wane. Yes, she must rectify the situation immediately. And remove herself from his line of sight.
Connie excused herself from the guests around her before hurrying across the room and through the alcove into the hallway leading toward the kitchens. As she walked down the dimly lit hall, approaching the stairs to the servants’ domain, a strange, tingling awareness began to creep up her neck. She had the bizarre sensation of being watched.
“Duchess,” a deep voice drawled, the Scottish brogue nowhere near as harsh as what she’d become accustomed to, but a very comforting and a familiar whisper from her childhood.
Stopping, she slowly spun around.
There, striding toward her, was Alec McGuiness.
The breadth of his shoulders and his height almost took up the entire corridor. Or at least it felt that way. She’d forgotten how strong and commanding his presence had always been.
He seemed fiercer now, too. But she didn’t feel scared. She felt like running toward him and throwing herself into the safety of his arms. Instead, she stayed rooted to the spot. “Alec…” she whispered. “Is that really you?”
The whites of his teeth flashed brightly as he grinned at her before stopping a mere foot away. “Aye. It is.”
She had to crane her neck up slightly to meet his deep chocolate brown eyes. She’d forgotten how tall he was. Though, most men were tall compared to her five-foot four-inch stature. But Alec’s athletic frame and height certainly were an intimidating combination, and his steady gaze and solidness gave him an aura of strength.
This was a man who could be depended upon.
Connie felt her pulse start to flutter.
He’d always made her feel vulnerable, in a way she’d never understood. Probably why she’d been so horrid to him in the past. She’d never appreciated feeling anything less than in control, and she’d never felt in control with Alec. He’d always seemed immune to her charms, and she’d been unable to dazzle him as she could with other men. It had annoyed her often. Because as a debutant, she’d wanted to dazzle him rather desperately.
“What are you doing here?” Connie whispered, peering past him toward the ballroom. If Duncan saw her alone with another man, there would be hell to pay.
“I’ve come to see how you are.” His voice was like a rich whiskey, caressing in its warmth.
She’d always loved the gentle Scottish brogue of his accent, imagining she co
uld lose herself for hours just listening to him.
“Sophie asked me to check on you,” he continued, his gaze studying her meticulously.
The mention of her best friend brought with it such a sense of longing that she felt like bawling. Goodness, she really was starting to go mad. And of course, Alec would check on her if Sophie asked. He’d do anything for Sophie. Who wouldn’t, though? Sophie was the kindest and most wonderful person Connie knew.
The very thought of her dear friend sent a pang of loneliness straight to her heart. She had not seen her since Connie’s own wedding to Duncan. Originally, after Connie had married, they’d both sworn to stay in touch with lots of letters, but very quickly Connie hadn’t kept up her end of the bargain, even though Sophie religiously sent a letter every month.
At first, Connie hadn’t written back as she’d been physically unable to, laid up in bed recovering from the first beating Duncan had given her, with none of her family or friends in England aware anything was amiss. And after she’d eventually recovered, she’d occasionally written back, pretending that everything was just wonderful and begging Sophie to excuse her for not writing often, as she was so busy with her social engagements.
She’d never been able to tell her friend the truth, of course, as Duncan always ensured he read any mail she penned before it was sent out.
Another way of isolating her from her life in England.
Eventually, though, Connie had gotten so upset to be continually lying to her friend that it was easier to simply not write back at all. But of course, Sophie would ask Alec to check on her when he was in the Highlands. That’s just the sort of person Sophie was, even though for all intents and purposes, Connie had not bothered to write back to her in months.
She grabbed ahold of Alec’s hand, trying not to notice the frisson of energy that raced through her arm from the contact. Quickly, she led him down the hall, toward the library. It was the one place Duncan never bothered to set foot in. Her sanctuary of sorts. They’d be able to talk there without fear of interruption. At least for a little while.
The Sinful Scot Page 2
