Page 81 of The MacGregor's Lady
A man with creditors and mouths to feed did not argue with inspiration, and it had all turned out for the best anyway.
Hannah studied her unopened letter, a single folded page, the handwriting blocky, like a child’s. And then, as Malcolm considered Hannah, the bluebirds of much deserved triumph fluttering around in his chest plummeted to his vitals.
“The duchess’s visit has not set you to rights, Hannah Cooper. What’s amiss?”
She blinked at the letter, a sign of impending disaster if Malcolm had ever seen one. “The duchess’s visit has unruined me, and that puts certain other matters in a different, more complicated light.”
“Are those other matters related to last night’s indiscretion?”
The question was exceedingly uncomfortable. Malcolm had consoled himself that Asher and Hannah belonged together, and his efforts were in the way of nudging two stubborn, independent people in the direction of their best interests. Doubt assailed him, aiming a loaded blunderbuss at the few bluebirds still on the wing.
“Not the indiscretion you’re accusing me of. I honestly did faint, you know. Have you any idea where Asher has gone off to?”
He knew exactly where Asher had gone off to, because he’d bribed a street Arab to follow the man. Given how crowded Fleet Street and The Strand were, the job had been easy. “Asher had some business in the City.”
“That’s the financial district?”
“The business district. The courts, lawyers, and bankers tend to be over that way.” Doctor’s Commons was in the same direction, of course.
“He’s transacting business today?”
Americans had the most persistent sense of curiosity. “Nothing that will take long. Aren’t you pleased to have the blessing of the Duchess of Moreland, Hannah?”
For the first time, Hannah shifted her gaze to regard him. “Was there something you wanted, Malcolm?”
He wanted her to be happy. He wanted Asher to be happy. He wantedhimselfto be happy, though he was willing to settle for being solvent and in good health.
“Let’s go for an ice.” He made a grab for her hand, but she snatched it away.
“It’s going to rain, Malcolm, and I do not want an ice. Last night, I was a pariah, a fallen woman, a social failure despite my wealth and despite not having done one thing wrong. Today I’m bosom bows with a lot of sweet-smelling, titled beldames. Did you know, when I arrived here I’d made an objective out of being ruined?”
He had not known that, but she was American. He was coming to believe that was synonymous with unhinged. “Why?”
“I wanted the freedom to tend to my responsibilities. I wanted to be with people who loved me even when they didn’t approve of me. I wanted… I wanted togohome.”
Freedom? Why were Americans always prosing on about their bloodyfreedom? “Scotland has freedom and is home to many, even the Queen and her prince consort sometimes. They’re wonderful neighbors. Lots of kiddies underfoot, and Albert is a great sportsman.”
She glared at him as if he’d just farted at high tea. “Yesterday, I was a scandal. Today I am the darling of a duchess and her titled relations. I’m getting floral panegyrics from a rascally old duke, and the invitations, as of an hour ago, have filled three baskets.”
Moreland would like being called rascally. Malcolm tried a smile, though the conversation was leaving him utterly flummoxed. “It’s like that bit with the loaves and fishes, you see. One duchess can work miracles with the calls and invitations.”
“I didn’t want a miracle. I never wanted a miracle.”
She sounded not angry, but bewildered—forlorn. He didn’t dare pat her hand. “I take it you aren’t going to be cheered to learn that Asher has gone to purchase a special license?”
“A license for what?”
“Holy matrimony, presumably to you.”
And then she did cry, not loudly, not untidily, but she broke Malcolm’s heart all the same.
***
“Why is that sitting out here?” Asher asked the question casually, though a sizable trunk in the middle of the barn aisle, where it might get kicked or worse, was not an everyday sight.
The groom who’d taken Asher’s horse paused to regard the trunk, a nondescript sturdy piece of gray-green luggage that would hold a fair amount. “Headed for the docks, guv. Young Miss had it out here before her came downstairs.”
Young Miss, as distinguished from Miss Enid, though the help had all manner of names for the older houseguest, none of them flattering.
