Page 60 of Romancing the Scot
“Anything.”
“Do you have a husband?”
Grace shook her head. “No.”
“Are you betrothed? Promised? Spoken for?”
“Those are questions two, three, and four,” Grace told her friend, smiling. “But the answer is ‘no’ to all of them. Since the end of the war, I’ve spent all my time caring for my father. Why do you ask?”
“Because of my brother.” Jo held Grace’s hand and looked into her eyes. “Today, when he found you were missing . . .”
The words trailed off, but Grace understood. She recalled the vision of man and horse charging furiously at the attackers. Even now, her body grew warm at the memory of him leaping from the saddle and taking her in his arms and holding her. Affection for him flowed in her veins like her very life blood. And the kiss they shared afterwards still astonished her. She’d never experienced such unbridled passion in herself, all thought of propriety obliterated, her body the servant of her desire.
Hearing Jo’s words, her heart soared. At least for today, at least for this moment, she was allowed to dream. Tomorrow, or the day after, or next week, the reality of her situation would inevitably crush any hope of happiness. The affections Hugh or Jo felt for her might not change, but to the English crown she was still a French sympathizer. A traitor. And Grace knew that whoever hired the men who attacked her today was still lurking there in the mist, biding their time, waiting for her.
“And I have a request,” Jo said, breaking through the cloud of gloom that was quickly descending.
“Anything.”
“I understand that you still have a great deal that worries you,” Jo went on, reading Grace’s thoughts. “I only ask that you give him a chance.”
A chance for what? A hopeless dream, she thought. But she had no opportunity to reply. A quiet knock came at the door and Anna entered.
“A caller for you, m’lady,” she said to Jo, turning then to Grace. “And she wishes to see you too, Miss Grace.”
“In spite of what I said,” Jo whispered conspiratorially, “this is too soon even for Lady Nithsdale.”
She took the calling card from Anna and read it aloud.
“Mrs. Douglas.”
Grace shook her head. She had no wish to speak to that woman now.
“Anna, take this to his lordship,” Jo said. “I’m quite certain my brother would be pleased to meet with her.”
* * *
The woman didn’t know the danger she was facing in coming here now, Hugh fumed as he stormed toward the drawing room. She’d have done better to stick her head in a hornet’s nest.
Striding in, he found Mrs. Douglas sitting in a chair by the window. As she began to rise, he waved her back into her seat.
“Madam?”
“Lord Greysteil, I can’t tell you how shocked and sorry I am to hear of the insidious attack on your guest. I had to come the moment I heard the news. I hope she’s well? I pray she wasn’t injured.”
Hugh said nothing, but stared at her in stony silence. She brushed a nonexistent speck of dust from the back of her gloved hand and continued. “I was in Melrose Village when Mr. Truscott brought that poor worker of yours into Dr. Namby’s surgery. The entire village is in an uproar, as you can imagine.”
As cool as her manner was, Mrs. Douglas was presenting herself as a far more talkative woman than he’d met when she and Lady Nithsdale accosted them from their carriage.
“I repeat. I do hope Miss Grace is not unwell.” She paused, waiting unsuccessfully for a response from Hugh. “I came here today because I fear that I must bear some responsibility for what happened.”
She adjusted her reticule on her lap.
“Perhaps you’re aware that I sent your guest a note.” She gazed steadily at him. “In doing so, I only intended to convey my willingness to be a friend to the young woman. You see, m’lord, I do recall being introduced to her years ago.”
The clock in the corner chimed, and Mrs. Douglas waited. When she continued, he fancied a slight change in her. Something in her look that hinted of the studied air of an actress.
“When I met her in Paris, I was so taken with her loveliness and her poise. Of course, she was so much younger then, not the mature beauty she is now. What a spectacle it was!” she said, waxing nostalgically. “And the splendor of the occasion was only heightened by her presence. No one who saw her could think otherwise. She was the loveliest of the royal entourage, outshining by far the other thirty-six ladies of the palace attending the empress. But I’m certain you would agree, had you seen her.”
