And who was this man that had broken Amelia so?
“Refused?” Edith repeated, though she likely should not have done. “How…?”
Amelia shook her head. “He said it was not possible but could not say further than that. I didn’t mind; I only wished to be with him in my own small way. Now, even that is gone.”
Edith reached out again, this time taking Amelia’s hand without hesitation. “This is your disappointment? Lass, this is heartbreaking, even in hearing. What can I do?”
“You’re doing it.” Amelia turned to her and smiled through her tears. “Being here with you, away from my mother’s questions and efforts, away from my home, is a cure beyond anything.” She wiped at her cheeks again, sniffling. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to turn watering pot on you. I think I’ll go to my room for a time to collect myself. When I’m better company, I’ll come back down.”
“No rush, lass,” Edith insisted. “And you needn’t go up; I’m no’ fit company much of the time. But if ye need some privacy, I understand.”
Amelia rose and slid the letter between her fingers absently. “I believe there are more tears yet to cry, Edith. I freely admit to feeling guilty for crying them in front of you, given all that you’re contending with at present.”
“Pain is pain, Amelia. It needn’t be compared.”
“And you’ve got more of it than me,” Amelia told her with a serious look. “I’ll recover from mine, but we’re all trying to find a solution to yours. Once I’ve cried my tears, I’ll be better suited to helping you, and that will cure my disappointment, as well.” She smiled once more and left the drawing room, leaving Edith to her thoughts.
There were no words for the girl’s offer, and Edith would not pretend there were. How could she expect to forget her heartache just to give Edith some aid? Her situation was dire, it was true, but it did not, could not, negate the pain of anyone else. Especially something as tender as a lost love, or, at the very least, a disappointed one.
She and Amelia had been mere acquaintances before this, hardly close enough to engender this kind of loyalty or effort on her part. Or that of the others who were moving heaven and earth to help her. Her friends in the Spinsters, perhaps, but their husbands? Henshaw? Lord Radcliffe?
How did someone repay such a debt of kindness when it was so little deserved?
“What happened to yer curious friend?”
Edith looked towards the doorway to the drawing room, sighing a bit at Owen’s furrowed expression. “She went up to her room for some rest. She’s… well, she’s got some private pain, and needed a moment.”
Owen shook his head, surprising her. “Poor wee lass. What kind of a man would injure a bonny thing like that?”
“I dinna ken,” Edith murmured. “She willna say, and I dare not ask it of her.”
“I’ll ask. He deserves a solid thrashing.”
Edith gave him a look. “Really, Owen, ye canna thrash a man wi’out knowing the truth of it all. He may be just as keen on Amelia as she is on him.”
Owen scowled. “If that be the case, he’s no’ worth the tears she’s shedding, abandoning her like this.”
A pounding at the door saved Edith from having to explain any laughter, as Owen turned from the room to answer it, but she gave in to the impulse the moment he was gone. Her burly manservant, a rough and gruff Highlander, was a romantic? Took personal offense at the pains of Amelia Perry after only a week of knowing her? It was far more a surprise than anything else Owen had ever said or done, and it could hardly have been expected or anticipated. What in the world would he say or do next?
Shouts sounded in the corridor from the front of the house, effectively eliminating any laughter Edith was prone to.
Owen almost never raised his voice, being much more prone to using his size for intimidation than to engage in actual fighting. Who in the world could stir him into such a fury?
The question was answered moments later when Owen appeared in the doorway yet again, his face tense, his jaw twitching.
“Yer mangy brother, mistress.”
Edith’s jaw dropped in amazement. “My what?”
“Mangy?” echoed an outraged voice that stopped Edith in her tracks. “I ken yer eyes are weak, Owen, but if ye’d open them a bit wider, ye’d observe this is the cleanest I’ve been in years.”
It couldn’t be… There was only one voice in the world filled with that particular blend of gravel, cynicism, and charm, and he couldn’t be here.
He couldn’t.
But then he rounded into the room, and no amount of blinking cleared him from her sight.
“Well, Edie, are ye no’ going to kiss me in greeting?” Lachlan asked with a grin, spreading his arms out as though she would run into his arms.
Edith stared at him, from the unfashionable length of his dark hair, to the scar down the left side of his face, to the kilt he currently wore.
Nothing about the sight made her want to run to him. Not a thing.
“No,” she snapped at last, her jaw clenching as her mouth closed.
Her brother looked confused by her tone. “Edie… Tha an teaghlach as cudromaiche.”
Edith barely restrained a snarl. Family was most important? He would claim that? To her?
“No, Lachlan,” she ground out. “No. Tha fuil a ’ciallachadh dad, dìreach dìlseachd.”
The widening of his eyes told Edith her brother understood more than she thought. That blood didn’t make them family without loyalty. That his actions had broken their family for her. That they were not family now.
They couldn’t be.
Taking advantage of his silence, Edith went on. “The last I saw ye, mo bhràthair, I was dragged into Father’s study to meet the man ye sold my hand to. Ye gave me to him, Lachlan, as though I were yours to give! An’ for what?”
“Don’t you think I know what I’ve done?” he cried, truly sounding upset. Lachlan exhaled slowly, his eyes steady, the shade so similar to hers. Then, he swallowed and scratched the back of his head. “Will ye have grace enough to let me explain afore ye rightfully set me out on my arse?”
Edith eyed her brother as though she’d never seen him before, and he certainly did not appear as himself. He was haggard and drawn; his eyes held shadows that she had never seen in him, and it was clear he had lost some weight. He had never appeared thus, not even when he was insensibly drunk.
“By all means.” She gestured limply to the drawing room, strangely satisfied that it was sparse, mismatched, and poorly kept.
Let Lachlan see what he, and their father, had brought her to.
She sat on the tattered divan and waited for him to take a seat. He did, choosing the wingback chair that Sir Reginald favored.
There was an irony in that.
Lachlan surprised her by leaning forward and rubbing his hands over his face. “I ken what I am,” he told her in a low voice, “and I ken what I have done. I never meant tae trap ye like that. I ken my actions were selfish an’ that ye were the one tae suffer for it. I couldna face ye on yer wedding day, knowing what I’d done. Sir Archibald was a blackguard, and I ken tha’ from the moment our hands were dealt. He made it verra plain he had fortune aplenty but no nobility tae enforce his position. I thought when Da discovered the truth, he would call it off. But then he moved the wedding up, and Da insisted so forcibly. Faye never told him, and—”
“Don’t you dare blame Mama!” Edith scolded at once.
“I’m not,” he said, raising his hands. “I’m not. I am the villain here, and I own to it. It surprised me how eagerly he wanted ye,” Lachlan admitted, sounding far away as he rose and began to pace before her. “I think he may have cheated the final hand for ye alone. I got myself right and truly soused oot the head wi’ drink tha’ night. ’Twas the only way I could bring him tae Da and tae ye.” He looked at Edith then, his expression raw. “I ken the depth of my sins, Edie. I ken verra well what Da would say and do. But I didna care enough to intervene. Tae take my debt
like a man. I went back tae my regiment, and I did my best tae forget ye, and him, and all of it. Believe me, I never thought he would use you so. If I had… if I had…”
Edith folded her arms and gave him a look. “You would have been less of a villain?”
He gave Edith a ghost of a smile. “Perhaps only half of one. I heard about the wedding, and your husband’s death, and I felt I should have ridden into the church and rescued you from it all. What sort of a brother lets his sister be sold off to the devil? I should be as dead as Archibald. I’d be better to the family for it.”
“Oh, stop that,” Edith said, relaxing at last. Taking his hand, she forced him to sit down next to her. “We may despise you at times, but none of us want you dead.”
“I cannot pretend that I will be a good man,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I cannot change my spots that much. But I would like to be a better one. I want to make amends.”
“You did send Henshaw,” Edith reminded him. “He has been a great friend.”
“I know. You are perhaps the only person I have ever done good for. I knew Henshaw would treat you better than I could have at the time. The most honorable man I’ve ever met, and one with many sisters. I thought, there is a man who kens how tae be a brother. I ken I wasna fit, but I wanted someone tae look in on ye when I heard ye’d come to London.”
“Henshaw was no replacement for you, Lachlan,” Edith murmured softly. “There’s only one of you, mo bhràthair.”
“I’d hoped tha…” He smiled very weakly, his hands rubbing together between his knees. “I’d hoped he’d take ye tae wife in yer widowhood. Make up for my mistakes.”
“He offered,” Edith admitted, matching his smile. “I refused.”
“Why?”
“He’s in love with a lass, though I doubt either of them have admitted so.” Edith sighed and began to look on her brother with pity, and even some grudging affection, somehow. “Why are ye here, Lachlan?”
His smile faded, and his look grew intense. “I’m no’ a saint, Edie, but I’m no’ the same sinner who betrayed ye. I’ve come to make amends and better myself. I’ve come to be yer brother again, if ye’ve a mind tae have me.”
A lump formed in Edith’s throat, a sharp pang of longing accompanying it. “The rest of the family doesna want me back,” she whispered harshly. “Da willna let me return, and I canna…”
“I ken, lassie,” her brother interrupted, turning towards her. “I dinna care. I didna serve ye well before, but I’ll be damned if I dinna serve ye well now.” He reached out and brushed his thumb fondly along her left temple, tucking a tendril behind her ear with the motion. “Piuthar mo ghràidh… Tha mi duilich.”
His apology sent warmth out from her heart to the ends of the fingers he held, the warmth increasing with every beat. Tears slowly rolled down her cheeks, and the stiffness in her spine melted away, leaving her to sag and let the tears helplessly fall.
Lachlan pulled her hard against his chest, his large arms wrapping around her better than any blanket or wrap she’d ever known and twice as snug. “I’m so verra sorry, Edie,” he said against her shoulder. “Ye canna ken how much.”
“Tapadh leat,” she murmured through her tears. “That’s all I ever wanted.”
“I should have said it then,” he admitted, pulling back to give her a sad smile. “I couldna bear the shame of it.”
Edith shook her head and took his hand. “It’s done wi’ now, and Archie’s been dead for years. It could have been worse.”
“Doesna have tae be worse to be uamhasach,” he told her. He cleared his throat and sat back, looking more like the brother she remembered and had once adored. “Now tha’s oot the way, do ye have any food, Edie?”
She laughed merrily in surprise at that. This, at last, was her brother restored to her in all his maddening glory. She supplied him with a light repast, which he found insufficient, and refused to serve him any strong drink, which he was almost indignant about.
“I hold my whiskey better’n anyone else ye know,” he insisted. “I can manage a wee snifter.”
“I don’t have whiskey,” Edith laughed, “and no money to purchase any, if ye were about to ask.”
He raised a brow. “I wasna, but whiskey is cheap, is it no?”
Edith huffed playfully and gestured to her surroundings. “Does it look as though I have money to hand out, Lachlan?”
He finally looked around, then gave her a strange look. “Bide a wee moment,” he said as he rose, ran out of the room, and charged up the stairs, leaving Edith to stare after him in horror.
When the first door slammed, she winced. When the second, third, and fourth proceeded to do so, she rose and began to pace the room. The upper rooms were much worse than the main floor, as no one ever saw them, and they had no funds for a proper staff to keep them up. What if he discovered Amelia hiding there? That would help no one at all, least of all Amelia.
It did not take long for Lachlan to thunder down the stairs once more and return to the drawing room, his expression hooded. “The house is awful, Edith.”
She snorted, despite her fingers knitting. “Yes, I know. If I had money, I would make repairs.”
“Ye’d be better served burning it down,” he said, looking around with a wrinkled nose.
“Then where would I live?” she asked him, wondering how stupid her brother really was.
He shrugged. “One of yer other estates. Forget London. Ye’re too good for this.”
She was flattered by his thinking so but amused that he knew so little of her situation. “Lachlan, do you pay any attention to family matters at all?”
Again, he shrugged, and it was accompanied by a grin. “Why should I? I have no interest in most of them, and Greer is going tae save us all with her triumphant marriage tae someone important, if the rumors be true.” He waved his hand dismissively.
Edith sighed and rubbed at her head. “Lachlan, I have no money. At all. No other estates, no income, and nothing to live on.”
His eyes went wide, and he gaped openly. “But… yer husband… He was rich.”
She gave him a sad smile. “Aye. He was. I am not. His cousin has taken control of everything, quite literally. I have five regular gowns, four nicer ones, and a few accouterments. In the house, I have Owen as a footman, butler, and bodyguard, Simms as a maid, and Cook in the kitchen.”
Lachlan frowned. “Tha’s not right.”
Edith sighed and shrugged. “No, but I canna do anything about the law.”
“So, what are you doing?” he asked, looking concerned.
“Trying to find protection somewhere,” she answered truthfully. “Anywhere, really.”
He grinned too wickedly. “Going to be a mistress, Edith?”
“No,” she said forcefully, giving him a glare, which he laughed at.
“I didna mean it!” he chuckled. “Ye know I would pummel a man for taking that sort of advantage of you. I’d run a man through for ye, if ye needed, but ye dinna.”
“That’s because you like to fight,” she reminded him.
He grinned at Edith warmly. “True, but it sounds better if I say it’s for yer honor.”
The bell rang, and Edith froze, looking with wide eyes at Owen, who had appeared in the doorway. They were not expecting callers, which was a clear indication that it could be Sir Reginald.
Owen peered out, then returned and gave her a slow nod.
She closed her eyes and tried to find calm. “Send for Hensh,” she told him softly.
“Edith? Do I need to go?” Lachlan asked, looking between the two of them. “Why do ye need Hensh?”
For a moment, she’d forgotten her brother had been sitting there, and now looked at him with new interest, which made him suspicious.
“How much is your family loyalty worth today?” she demanded.
“What?” he asked, clambering to his feet and looking disconcerted that she did so as well. “Why?”
“I need you to be my overprotective
relation,” she told him, though Owen was shaking his head. “This man is the one who is taking everything from me.”
Lachlan’s jaw tightened, and he gave her a look. “Why is he here?”
“He… he wants me to be his mistress,” she murmured, looking away. “He’s threatening to ruin me if I continue to refuse.”
Lachlan swore viciously, which shocked Edith, but he turned around and nodded to Owen, who moved back to the door.
“Stay behind me,” Lachlan told Edith, taking her hand and carefully shielding her behind him.
The door opened, and Sir Reginald came in without invitation, as usual. “My Lady Edith,” he called in his oily voice.
He stopped suddenly as he rounded the drawing room and saw Lachlan glowering at him. His eyes flicked to Edith’s hand in Lachlan’s hold, then took in their positions.
“What is this?” he demanded, trying to look around Lachlan’s bulk to see her.
Lachlan would not let him. “Who the hell are ye?” Lachlan barked, making Sir Reginald jump.
“Sir Reginald Leveson,” he replied with a stiff nod of his head. “I am Sir Archibald’s cousin.”
Lachlan defied propriety by not responding with a nod or a bow, or any sort of introduction. “Sir Archibald is dead. And we were not expecting ye. Get out.”
Sir Reginald drew himself up as tall as he could, though he still could not reach Lachlan’s chin. “I will do no such thing; I have every right to be here.”
Lachlan actually snarled at him, and started forward, still holding Edith’s hand. “The only right ye have is tae exit on yer own terms or tae exit on mine. Three… two… one…”
Sir Reginald’s eyes went round, and he scurried out of the room, fumbling for his walking stick and slamming the front door behind him.
Edith stood there for a moment in stunned silence.
Then, Lachlan turned to her, looking almost bored.
“Will that do?” he asked simply.
She laughed out loud and wrapped her arms around his broad chest. “You are the most wonderful person in the world!”
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