Page 82 of The Last Debutante
“No,” Daria said. “He was injured in a duel.”
Mackenzie’s eyes lit with interest. “Ach,if that’s what it is, I know a surgeon in Edinburra who might help him. One of me deckhands was hit right across the gullet by a rogue boom. Cut him deep, it did. Dr. Elgin gave him back his speech.” He suddenly put down his fork. “I’ll have a word,” he said, standing.
“Now?”Charity asked.
“What better time? We’re in Scotland, lass. We donna make much of social rules, aye?” He leaned down and said softly,“Tha gaol agam ort.”
Charity smiled as he sauntered off.
Daria tried to remember where she’d heard that phrase. It sounded rhapsodic to her. “What did he say?” she asked.
When Charity didn’t answer, Daria looked at her. The woman who could always be trusted to have the most inscrutable demeanor was suddenly blushing. “Charity! What did he say?”
A soft smile brightened Charity’s face. “He said, ‘I love you.’”
Daria gasped.
Charity’s blush deepened and she said, “Did you truly not suspect it? Yes, Daria, he loves me. And I love him.”
Of course Daria had suspected it, but that was not the reason for her gasp. It was because she had heard that phrase in the arms of Jamie Campbell. Jamie had said that toher.
Daria’s heart began to flutter. Her gaze flew to the dais, but Jamie was listening intently to what Mackenzie was telling him.
She drew a shallow breath.He’d said that he loved her. Not in English, the way she could understand it, but he had said it—and Daria allowed herself to believe that he did. Or hoped that he did. She hoped so fiercely that her head hurt.
“He was right glad for the information,” Mackenzie said when he returned. “He said he’d send his brother as soon as he was able, but that he had business with the Brodie clan on the morrow.”
Daria’s pulse began to pound. That was it, then. He would accept their terms. What other option did he have? Her heart ached. It was really no different here than in England—he loved her, but duty called. Duty always called.
She had no right to interfere in the course of his life, of this clan’s life. She had no right to try to persuade him to turn his back on Isabella for her. She had no business in Scotland, and once her parents arrived, she would be gone.
Charity was right—her future was in England. It was obvious.
So why did it hurt so badly?
THE EVENING HADgrown raucous, thanks in part to an endless supply of barley-bree, courtesy of Ian Campbell, who had made it his life’s work to perfect the brew. After supper they’d retired to the great hall, and Jamie’s injured leg was stretched out before him, aching a little, even after a few tots. He watched Daria across the room. She was with Geordie and her friend Miss Scott, the three of them engaged in some sort of diversion having to do with Geordie’s slate.
He’d hardly spoken a word to her this evening, other than to ask her how she enjoyed the meal. He was brooding, pondering what, if anything, he ought to do about her. But he’d come to the painful conclusion that he had no other option than to marry Isabella.
He could not marry Daria, as much as he desired to. The clan would not approve of his taking an English wife. And in truth, there were so many things to consider beyond that. She didn’t meet any requirement that had guided the matches of Campbell lairds for years. She couldn’t bring him wealth, or an alliance of any sort. She couldn’t stand in his stead should something happen to him, since she was English. And there was the matter of what her grandmother had done to Hamish.
Yet Daria brought him joy and happiness.
Wasn’t that what a man should desire? But he wasn’t free to follow his heart. He was laird. He was the sum of all the people gathered tonight. They owned him.
He stood. To hell with the clan.
He walked across the room to where Daria was writing on Geordie’s slate. “Miss Babcock, a word?” he asked.
She looked up with surprise. “Of course,” she said, and handed the slate to Geordie.
He offered his arm and led her away from the ears of the others. “I have news,” he said.
“Oh?” Her smile suddenly disappeared.
“We have found your grandmamma’s acquaintance. He is also English.”
“English!” she exclaimed, and smiled again. “What in heaven are so many Englishdoinghere, I wonder?”
