Page 44 of Romancing the Scot
“Would you mind if we walked the horses back?” he asked when they reached the animals.
“That would be lovely.” She eyed the saddle with exaggerated scorn.
A great weight was lifted from her shoulders. The smell of the firs filled her senses as they walked.
“I’m still stunned, however, by the capacity of your mind,” he said, interrupting her thoughts. “The exactness of your memory. The ability to recite text flawlessly. Dates. References. How could you remember them all so precisely?”
For a change, she could be honest. “It appears that what I read stays with me, just as I see it on the page.”
They emerged from the shade of the forest and walked out into the open meadows. In the distance, the towers and turrets of Baronsford rose solidly against the azure sky.
“I’ll never forget your first words were the recitation of the lines of a poem.” They turned onto the lane.
“Wasn’t it a ballad?” she teased.
Looking over at him, she saw his expression darken. His eyes were locked on an open carriage approaching them. He pulled their horses to the side of the lane.
“I apologize for this intrusion, in advance.”
Before Grace could reply, the shrill voice of a woman pieced the air, ordering the carriage to stop.
“Lord Greysteil,” a robust older woman squealed with delight. “I can’t tell you how delighted I am to find you here!”
He ripped the hat from his head and raked his fingers through his hair. His annoyance was evident.
“We just left Baronsford after alovelyvisit with your sister. And to find you here! We were positively wretched at the thought that we might miss seeing you and your . . . oh my, yourlovelyguest. Will you be so kind as to introduce us to the young lady?”
Grace looked from the speaker’s face to her companion. Suddenly, a wave of illness swept over her. She knew this woman. Six years ago, on the day Napoleon’s son was baptized at Notre Dame Cathedral, dignitaries from all over the Continent, including a small delegation from England, had traveled to Paris.
And now Mrs. Mariah Douglas, a member of that party, sat in this carriage, a world away, her keen gaze fixed unwaveringly on Grace’s face.
Chapter 14
Drowned in the River Tweed. Cut up and used as fish bait. Pushed from a balloon at a thousand feet up. Shot for a goose. Hugh could easily think of a hundred more ways to punish the Earl of Nithsdale for the conduct of his wife, but none of them struck him at the moment as painful enough.
The woman was a nuisance. A simple introduction was not sufficient. She immediately launched into a barrage of two dozen questions before pausing for breath. Lady Nithsdale was not just a nuisance. She was an absolute menace.
Somewhere in that library, he thought, he had a volume on the torture techniques of Torquemada.
Looking at the pallor of Grace’s face right now, the memory of their kiss drifted to the shadows. Her condition worried him, and he recalled the words she’d spoken to him in the carriage barn.I’d find it trying to be inspected and judged in strange company.He didn’t blame her. The countess’s behavior was unpardonable. The defendants in his courtroom were treated with more regard.
“That’s quite enough, Lady Nithsdale,” he said in a tone that, for a moment at least, silenced the woman. “Enjoy your ride, ladies. Have a good day.”
He motioned for their carriage driver to proceed.
“Wait!” The countess found her voice before the carriage set off. “M’lord, we haven’t yet made good on the reason for our call, on the offer we made to your sister.”
She waited for no one to speak a word and turned to her companion.
“Mrs. Douglas, this is your chance to solve the Borders’ greatest mystery in a decade. Can you tell us if, in your extensive travels, you ever crossed paths with this young woman?”
Lady Nithsdale’s companion leaned forward, studying her like cat eyeing her prey. This was too much. Hugh was angered on Grace’s behalf.
“That is more than enough,” he ordered sharply. “Our intention is to help Miss Grace regain her strength, not cause her more agitation.”
“Well?” the older woman shrieked, not to be robbed of this moment. “Do you know her?”
“Pardon me, m’lord. I’ve met a great many people in my travels. I cannot recall if this young lady was ever introduced to me.”
