The Last Debutante (33 page)

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.

M
ALCOLM
B
RODIE 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 gestured 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.

H
E 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,” Mr. 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.