Page 89 of The Last Debutante
“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.
“What are we to do?” Mr. Babcock asked.
Jamie glanced back at them, wondering the same thing. And he was wondering something else—who exactly had Daria been speaking to when she declared she didn’t want seeyou?
Because she’d been looking right at him.
DARIA COULD SCARCELYrelate the entire nightmare to Charity between her gasps of outrage and pain and her occasional pounce on the pillows to pound out her fury. “All is lost,” she said. “All islost!”
“All is not lost,” Charity tried, but it was clear she didn’t believe it. She paced as much as Daria, her brow furrowed. “He must be brought to justice. My fatherhangedbecause the earl accused him of thievery, when he himself was the thief! He has ruined too many lives, and I willnotstand by whilst he lives in leisure in Scotland!”
“And my parents—myparents—have abetted him!” Daria cried angrily.
She was in the midst of a harangue about the duplicity of her own flesh and blood when Bethia slipped into the room. Daria was in such a state that she very nearly paced right over the wisp of a girl. “Bethia! What in blazes are you doing?” she exclaimed impatiently.
“The laird sent me. He would have you come and see after your parents,” she said. “He does no’ wish to entertain them.”
“No.”
“He has accepted a ransom from them, Daria. It would not do to sup with them and talk about the bloody weather!” Charity snapped. Her nerves were obviously as frayed as Daria’s.
“I can’t speak to them yet,” Daria said. “I simply cannot bear to look at them.” A clap of thunder just overhead startled all three women; Daria stalked to the window and peered out. The skies had opened and were pouring down on Dundavie.
“Bloody hell, we’re trapped,” Charity muttered.
“What shall I tell the laird, then?” Bethia asked.
“Tell him...” Daria closed her eyes.Tell him I am so terribly sorry. Tell him I wish he’d never met me. Tell him I wish I had never come to Scotland, for I will spend the rest of my life missing him.She turned to Bethia, her gaze beseeching. “Please, I need time. Divert him—tell him something, anything.”
“He’ll only send me back again,” Bethia said with a shrug.
