Page 94 of Miss Delightful
“But what do we do now?” Delancey murmured. “Mornebeth has a post waiting for him at Lambeth. He will not take kindly to having been shamed before an entire congregation, and Lady Phoebe wields considerable influence.”
Bugger Mornebeth.Alasdhair silently shouted the words, but held his tongue because clearly, Dorcas had something to say.
“I’m sorry, Papa.” She offered this apology, her gaze on the dying fire. “I have ruined your prospects for all time, haven’t I?”
That wasnotwhat Alasdhair had hoped she would contribute to the discussion.
“A bishop’s miter, you mean? My dear girl, I would miss St. Mildred’s terribly. I thought if I gained a bishop’s see…” He hunched forward, the picture of a tired old man. “I wanted you to be proud of me. I wanted your mother to be proud of me. To look down from her celestial perch and think, ‘Well done, Tommy, and now you can properly dower our Dorcas.’ I suspect she might have very different words for a father who loses track of not one but two children.”
Alasdhair passed Dorcas his handkerchief and hoped he was lending her courage as well.Tell him. Tell them both.
Not because ancient business needed endless rehashing, but because Dorcas needed to know that she was as lovable to them as ever, perhaps more so, for having blundered in her own eyes out of loyalty to her family.
A silence stretched, and nobody—least of all Alasdhair—moved.
“Mama would not be very proud of me either,” Dorcas said. “Mornebeth extorted money from Michael. Led him into debt, then used the debt against him. He told me Michael’s debt would be forgiven and forgotten if I parted with something having a different sort of value. I could not see Michael ruined before he’d even taken his first post, and I did not want my papa…”
She fell silent. Michael swore in a most unholy manner.
“Daughter? Are you telling me Mornebethinterferedwith you?”
“I was willing, Papa, in so far as I could be. I wanted my brother’s debts forgiven. I wanted you to be preserved from disgrace. Mornebeth promised me discretion, but what fool trusts a man who’ll put that sort of bargain to her?”
Delancey slumped back in his chair. “And all this time…? Merciful, everlasting… And you… And you… He…”
“I am sorry, Papa. I chose to fall in with Mornebeth’s scheme. He was wrong to betray Michael’s trust, and I made the whole situation worse.”
“You most assuredly did not,” the vicar retorted. “Mornebeth offered you a choice between trusting a scoundrel or betraying your brother. What sort of devil’s bargain is that?”
Thank heavens Delancey grasped the fundamental issue.
“I could call the scoundrel out,” Michael muttered. “I’d love to call him out. I grew very familiar with firearms living on the Dales.”
“He’s hoping you’ll do just that,” Dorcas said. “He will choose swords and allow you to wound him, then further blacken your name every time somebody asks about his scar. When you think decency or law will stay his hand, he finds a way to turn the moment to his advantage. I am just so sorry I ever… I am sorry. Michael has repaid his debts, and his behavior can be excused as youthful folly. My behavior, though, isn’t something polite society will find any excuse for.”
“And what of my behavior?” Delancey said. “My children preyed upon by a lying, thieving serpent in holy vestments, and I’m too busy parsing Leviticus to notice? If anybody has apologies to make, I do. You are my children, and if your dear mama left me with one commandment, it was to look after my children. Not the flock, not my prospects, but my children. In this, I have failed, and I humbly beg your pardon.”
In Alasdhair’s family, this same ground would have been covered with a few shouted oaths, a bout of fisticuffs, and some terse words from Finn or Papa, but the Delanceys weren’t the MacKays. All must be earnest and proper, no fisticuffs allowed.
“Come to Scotland,” Alasdhair said. “Get a fresh start in new surrounds. My family has plenty of room, and they know everybody.”
“Scotland?” Michael put a world of bleakness into one word. “As in even farther north than Yorkshire?”
He made it sound as if Scotland were overrun by polar bears.
“I’ll retire,” Delancey said. “I’m old enough that nobody will question that decision.”
Dorcas was looking considerably less remorseful and downtrodden, and about damned time.
“Miss Delancey,” Alasdhair said, “what think you of coming to Scotland?” That solution was not ideal, because it left Isaiah Mornebeth kicking his heels at Lambeth Palace, doubtless hatching up worse schemes yet, but it was a solution Alasdhair could offer.
“That is very generous of you, Mr. MacKay, and yet, I am unwilling to cede the field to such an utter reprobate. I capitulated to Mornebeth’s schemes years ago. Michael capitulated, Papa was hoodwinked, and now Mornebeth has breached the palace itself. I hope to see Scotland with you one day soon, but first, I would like the three of you to accompany me on a call tomorrow morning. The whole business wants—”
“Not the newspapers,” Delancey moaned. “Please, Daughter, not the newspapers and not theCharitable Circular. As you say, Mornebeth will twist the recounting and paint himself the victim.”
“He was already trying that tactic on,” Michael said. “Implying that he was tempted from the path of virtue by a scheming seductress who barely knew how to put up her hair. Perhaps discretion is the better part of—”
“Hear her out,” Alasdhair snapped. “For once in your saintly, gentlemanly lives, show Dorcas the basic manners you show each other and stop interrupting her.”
