The Last Debutante

by Julia London

  “The truth begins there. You recall he’d gone fishing on a swollen river, and he was never seen again. The only things they could find were a mangled fishing pole and his tackle on the shore. His body was never found. Well, the earl didn’t drown. He duped everyone into believing he had, and he escaped to Scotland.

  “He had sizable gambling debts that he couldn’t pay without dismantling Ashwood completely. But if he were dead, his gambling debts wouldn’t be pursued. He had no heirs, and the sort of men to whom he owed money couldn’t legitimately make a claim against Ashwood. So the earl emptied his coffers, staged his death, and disappeared.”

  Daria shook her head in disbelief. “Even if that were true—and I can hardly believe that he might have accomplished such trickery—what has that to do with you?”

  “The earl’s thirst for gambling did not end with his supposed death. He continued to gamble here, and he began to lose more money. When he had lost almost all that he had, he needed someone to bring him more. So he chose us,” Mamie said bitterly.

  “ ‘Us’? Who is ‘us’?” Daria cried in frustration.

  “The Babcocks.”

  Daria blinked. Nothing made sense. “What do you mean? How could he choose us from Scotland? And choose us for what, pray tell?” She felt exhausted, emotionally drained.

  “Because we have the means to bring money to him—”

  “Absurd,” Daria said angrily and stood up. “I won’t listen to more of your lies, Mamie. If you won’t tell me the truth, I’ll go—”

  “He chose us to do his dirty deeds because he knows our devastating secret.”

  Daria threw her arms wide in disbelief. “Yes, of course! If this isn’t enough madness, then we’ll add a devastating family secret! What is it, Mamie? What possible secret could we have?”

  “Oh, Daria,” Mamie said sadly, and gazed at Daria as if she were about to walk up on the gallows. “I never wanted to tell you this. I—we—had hoped there would never be a need. But as you’ve grown up and wanted more from life . . . I told Beth that this was inevitable, and she wouldn’t listen to me!”

  “What?” Daria snapped. “Say whatever it is now, or I will walk out the door for good. I have been held for ransom because of this secret! You shot an innocent man because of it! You will tell me, or I will walk out the door and you will never see me again.” She angrily swiped at a tear that was sliding down her cheek.

  “I am telling you the truth now, Daria.” Mamie slowly gained her feet and reached for Daria’s hand. “Have you ever wondered why your parents came to live in Hadley Green? Why your grandfather and I followed?”

  “Mamma said they came to Hadley Green for the air.”

  Mamie swallowed. “They came to Hadley Green to escape an awful scandal, and the earl was happy to help them. Your father was a jeweler, did you know? He had helped a broker sell some of the countess’s jewelry for the earl. And when scandal came to your father, the earl offered your parents refuge.”

  “Refuge,” Daria repeated.

  Mamie swallowed again, as if the words were stuck in her throat. “He knew that your father was married . . .” She looked away. “He was—he is—married to someone else.”

  It took a moment for Daria to understand what Mamie was implying, and then she gasped. “Good God, have you any idea what you are saying?” She tried to pull her hand free of her grandmother’s, but Mamie tightened her grip.

  “Listen to me. I was very unhappy with their relationship, obviously, for he was a married man. I didn’t care that he was trapped in an unhappy union with a wife who refused to agree to a divorce. I cared only that my daughter—who was younger than you are now—was throwing her life away by courting such a scandal. Oh, but she was stubborn. She said that she loved him.

  “But when Richard’s wife found out that he esteemed Beth and had been meeting her privately, she threatened to ruin him. Your grandfather and I wanted to send Beth away, to spare her such a ruinous scandal, but it was too late. She had already conceived you.”

  Daria sank onto a chair, suddenly unable to breathe.

  “That’s when your father sought the help of his friend the earl, and the earl brought him to Hadley Green and established him there. It was awful—Richard and Beth left in the dead of night, slipping out of their homes, out of his marriage, out of society. Out of even his name! They chose the surname Babcock from a grave marker! All these years, they have lived as man and wife, while his true and lawful wife was living not one hundred miles away.”

  “I don’t believe you!” Daria cried.

  “That is the reason they have kept to themselves, my love. They thought you would be content to live in that house with them, but I told them you were far too spirited, and sooner or later they would have to tell you the truth—”

  “That I am a bastard?” Daria said, nearly choking on the words.

  Mamie did not deny it. “We protected you all these years . . . but then the earl began to blackmail us. That’s why I came to Scotland. I tried to reason with him, but he is relentless. He wants more and more until he has taken everything, and then he wants even more—”

  “So it’s true, then! You stole from Uncle Hamish.”

  “No! The earl befriended Hamish Campbell at the horse races. When he understood how addled the poor man was, he asked for the money, and Hamish agreed. I met Hamish in Nairn to receive the money and deliver it to the earl. I suppose he forgot that he agreed to give it to the earl.”

  “It was not his to give,” Daria said flatly. “Nor was it yours to take, Mamie.”

  “I haven’t sought more from him; I just delivered it! I’ve sold things—Oh, what is the use? The truth is that there is not enough money to satisfy that beast. He bets it all on the ponies.”

  “But why have you allowed it?” Daria demanded. “Why have you not told the authorities?”

  “Because your father’s wife is still alive,” Mamie said bitterly. “If she knew where he was, she could bring about criminal proceedings for abandonment.”

  “Let Pappa face what he has done,” Daria said bitterly.

  “But it’s more than that now, darling. You would be ruined, your chances at a match destroyed. Even if you had married before now, such news would give a man grounds to claim fraud if the truth were to come to light. Don’t you see?”

  Daria felt light-headed. She drew a shallow breath, and then another. She had almost single-handedly worked her way up in Hadley Green society without any help from her family, all with the hopes of marrying and having children one day. That was what she wanted, and this—this was devastating. She couldn’t imagine how they could keep the truth from coming out.

  She turned away from her grandmother, her thoughts racing, nausea building. She thought of Charity, surrounded by opulence but imprisoned by society’s conventions, a path she’d been put on when her father was falsely accused of stealing the Ashwood jewels. Daria’s family had actually stolen, had lied and dissembled—and she would be completely disgraced. No self-respecting man would have her.

  She suddenly thought of Jamie. A laird, an upstanding man of honor. She couldn’t bear to look at him, knowing what she knew now.

  Daria turned away from her grandmother and walked to the door.

  “Daria? Where are you going? Come back!” Mamie begged her.

  “I’ve heard enough.” Daria couldn’t look at her grandmother. She could scarcely even breathe. She walked out into the yard as Mamie rushed to the door behind her. She was aware that Mamie called her back, that Mackenzie was asking her if she was all right.

  But all Daria could manage was, “I should like to go.”

  “Aye. Where?”

  An excellent question. There was no place where she might escape this disaster.

  Twenty-six

  MALCOLM BRODIE WAS quite pleased to see Jamie. He walked out to greet him with a hearty clap on the back. “ ’S e do bheatha,” he said in greeting. “Come and we will talk, the two of us, aye?” He gestur
ed to the door of his home.

  “Thank you, Malcolm. Would you mind if I spoke to Isabella first?”

  “Aye, aye.” Malcolm smiled as he opened the door of the house. Isabella was coming down the stairs.

  “I’ll leave you alone for a wee bit, aye?” Malcolm said. “No’ too long, mind you, or the lass’s mother will have me head.” He laughed heartily.

  Isabella smiled indulgently at her father and gestured to the salon. They entered, and she waited with her hands clasped tightly behind her back until he’d closed the door. “I havena said that I am gladdened to see you so recovered,” she said as she moved forward.

  Was he recovered? He wasn’t entirely certain he would ever fully recover. From the gunshot, yes. But not from the engagement, the crying off.

  When she stood before him, she rose up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for coming, Jamie.”

  Ah, but she was a bonny lass. She would bear beautiful children. Life would go on, winter turning to spring and summer turning to autumn, and Jamie would sit in his chair, rubbing the gash in the leather. He would determine whose goose it was, and the river of life would flow on, cutting deeper and deeper into its bed.

  He took Isabella’s hand, pressed his lips to her temple.

  Isabella was still smiling. “What are you thinking, mo ghraidh?”

  My love. Those words clanged emptily about Jamie’s breast. “Do you love me, then, Isabella?”

  She smiled at him as she had smiled at her father. Indulgently. Patiently. “Of course I do.”

  He stroked her knuckles thoughtfully, then let go of her hand. “Do you truly?”

  She sighed impatiently. “What is it you want, Jamie? Aye, I am quite fond of you.”

  “As I am fond of you,” he said. “But I donna love you, Isabella.”

  He expected her to be offended, but Isabella merely blinked at him. Then she smiled sympathetically. “Is that what is on your mind? Jamie, it will come. There is no reason it will no’. We are compatible in every way; we have a fondness for one another. One day, we will love each other.” She smiled reassuringly and stroked his cheek.

  Jamie wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled it away. “Two months ago, that would have been enough for me, lass. But it is no’ enough for me now.”

  Isabella’s smile faded. “What are you saying?”

  “I think you know,” he said quietly. “I canna marry you.”

  The news clearly stunned her. “Are you mad?” she whispered incredulously. “We have a perfect match, Jamie. And you would throw it all away, risk your clan and your lands, because you do no’, in this moment, love me?”

  Those were the words. Those were the words he’d been trying to find in himself these last two days. It all came together now. Yes, he would risk all. But not because he didn’t love Isabella. He would risk it all because he loved Daria. She was worth the risk.

  “Jamie?” Isabella said, demanding an answer.

  He sighed helplessly. “Aye. That is precisely what I would do.”

  She took a step back, her eyes wide with shock. “Do you love the Englishwoman?” she asked.

  “Aye.”

  “But she is English!” Isabella cried. “You scarcely know her! How could you, Jamie? How could you do that to your clan? To Scotland? Is an English woman worth everything that will befall you and your clan if you donna take the offer we’ve made you?”

  He pressed his lips together. He didn’t believe Isabella truly wanted to hear his answer.

  “Mi Diah, Jamie, think of what you are doing,” Isabella beseeched him. “Your people will no’ stand for it, aye? She canna protect you from Murchison. No good can come of it. You are infatuated, and one day you will regret that you did no’ marry the Campbells and the Brodies, and it will be too late.”

  “I canna help what is, Issy. It’s more than my feelings for her. It’s my honor as well, can you no’ see it? If I married you, loving someone else, I would no’ be true to either of us. Is that truly what you want?”

  “I donna care about your bloody honor,” she said angrily. “Ach, you Campbells are all the same! My father warned me I should never trust you, and I defended you! First your brother, and now you, Jamie. You have just deepened a rift between the Campbells and the Brodies that will never be repaired. Were I you, I would say farewell to my people and begin to study the farming of sheep, for that’s what you and the English whore will be doing.” She strode quickly from the room, throwing the door open and running out.

  Jamie sighed, then closed his eyes. It was done. He’d just made life harder for the Campbells, all for the sake of his heart.

  He waited a moment for his head to clear. When it did not, he walked out before a Brodie took it from his shoulders.

  HE RODE AS fast as he could through the hills to Dundavie. He knew that Murchison would hear of this and gleefully dive into the rift between the Campbells and the Brodies. He was equally certain that the Brodies would sell as they had threatened to do. He fully expected that Isabella would mourn a day or two and then be on about the business of the Brodie clan. So he had best see about draining the bog as quickly as possible, and even then, he wasn’t certain it would be enough.

  Duff greeted him in the bailey as he rode in, a hint of a smile on his fleshy face. “How did you find the Brodies?” he asked hopefully.

  Jamie came off his horse and looked at his old friend. “I did no’ accept the offer, Duff.”

  A range of emotions instantly flitted across Duff’s fleshy face. He clenched his jaw and shook his head. “Might have avoided a lot of trouble if you’d accepted the betrothal.”

  “I am painfully aware, aye,” Jamie agreed. He didn’t say more; he didn’t know how to tell a man like Duff that he could no more marry Isabella than he could marry Duff. And Jamie was certain that Duff would not approve of Daria as his choice for a wife. Yet he was helpless to stop himself. Everything about Daria, from the moment he’d awoken in that opiate haze and seen her, had been beyond his control. He did not want to love her, he did not. But God help him, he did, with everything that he was, and he felt at his core that he could not live without her.

  The Campbells would accept it, or they would choose a new laird.

  “More English have come,” Duff said.

  “Diah, are there none left in England, then? Who is it now?”

  “The lass’s parents.”

  Jamie stilled.

  “In the throne room,” Duff added, and turned about, moving for the door of the keep.

  Jamie pulled his saddle off Niall and handed it to the stable lad. “Rub him down,” he said, and removing his gloves, he walked into the keep.

  Jamie had expected Daria’s parents to be strong and spirited, as she was. He was not prepared for the couple who looked so uncertain when he entered. Miss Scott was with them, but she remained seated.

  “Good afternoon,” he said. As he approached, the couple seemed to take a small step back. They reminded him of a pair of hares who would, at any moment, hop off and hide in their hole.

  Jamie paused before them and looked directly at the balding man.

  “Ah . . .” The man cleared his throat and took a small step forward. “Mr. Richard Babcock at your service, sir,” he said, and fixed his gaze on Jamie’s neckcloth. “Thank you for receiving us,” he said softly. “We came as soon as we received Daria’s letter.”

  Jamie nodded. He thought the man might introduce his wife, but he said, “We brought the ransom,” so softly that Jamie wasn’t entirely certain he’d heard him. Mr. Babcock glanced at his wife, who opened her reticule and removed a bundle wrapped in vellum. She handed it to her husband, who in turn held it out to Jamie. “It’s all there, you have my word.”

  Jamie arched a brow. “One would think that a man might first have a question or two for his daughter’s captor, aye? Such as why it is I found it necessary to hold her for ransom? Are you no’ a wee bit curious?”

  “Yes, yes, of course,” M
r. Babcock said nervously. “But we are quite concerned for Daria and should like to make the necessary arrangements to have her back.”

  “Aye.” Jamie nodded at Duff, who stepped forward to take the bundle from Mr. Babcock. He handed it over hesitantly and swallowed hard as Duff’s hand closed around it.

  “Will you no’ sit?” Jamie asked them, gesturing to chairs. The Babcocks chose a bench and sat as one, their hands clasped. Miss Scott sat across from them.

  “I thank you for returning my uncle’s money to us,” he said as he took his seat.

  “Pardon?” Mr. Babcock asked.

  “The ransom,” Jamie said. “It is the sum of what your mother took from my uncle.”

  Mrs. Babcock made a sound like a moan, then closed her eyes and dropped her head.

  “I see,” Mr. Babcock said.

  Jamie looked from one to the other. “Did Daria no’ explain in her letter what had happened?”

  “Ah . . . not in great detail,” Mr. Babcock said.

  Jamie looked at Miss Scott, who shrugged as if she couldn’t guess, either.

  “Allow me to enlighten you, then,” Jamie said. “Some weeks ago, we’d determined that—”

  He heard a door slam and Daria call, “Charity! Charity, are you here? Where are you?” She sounded frantic.

  He rose to his feet, as did Miss Scott. She and Jamie exchanged a look, then the four of them hurried to the foyer.

  Daria stood with her legs braced apart, her riding crop beating a steady rhythm against her calf. She stared at them all, her chest rising and falling with each hard breath. Her eyes were red, as if she’d been crying. But Daria was not the sort to cry easily.

  When she saw her parents, she whirled about and stalked to the stairs.

  “Daria!” her mother cried.

  Daria jerked around. “No,” she said, her voice shaking. “Don’t say my name. I never want to see you again.” She ran up the stairs.

  “Daria!” her mother cried again with anguish.

  Miss Scott looked helplessly at them, then hurried up after Daria.