Page 71 of Romancing the Scot
She caressed his face, placed a tender kiss on his lips. “Then you need to hold that offer in your heart, as I shall keep it in mine, for now.”
“What do you mean? Do you think I’ll stay silent when you torment me with threats of going back to Antwerp? When I know you love me?”
“You can ask me again, if you still want to, but only if your Prince Regent grants this pardon.”
“Blast the Prince Regent,” Hugh exploded. “Grace, I don’t give a—”
“No ultimatums. No threats. I won’t have you throwing away your achievements or your career. I won’t alienate you from your family,” she told him. The feathery touch of her fingers traced the hard lines on his face. Tears slid down her flawless cheeks. “Don’t make me suffer with the fear that I could ruin you in the same way that my own family was ruined. With my father dead, I have no one. No brothers or sisters, no cousins, no aunts or uncles. I have no home, no roots to cling to and use as my strength. Do you think I would allow that to happen to the man I love? I can’t . . . I won’t do that to you. I won’t pass such a legacy on to our children.”
She closed her eyes as another sob forced her to take a breath.
He wanted to assure her their life would be different. He wanted to tell her that she had grown up in a time of war. The world was changed now.
He wanted to tell her that, but he knew it would be a lie.
Whatwastrue was that he would sacrifice it all for her. He would give up everything he had.
She leaned her forehead against his. Their lips were a breath apart.
“I love you,” she whispered. “But for now, you must keep your offer safely locked away.”
Chapter 24
Walking up from Darby’s cottage, Jo stopped and stared across the fields at the horses being whipped to a breakneck pace along the lane toward Baronsford’s front door. Only an emergency would necessitate such reckless speed. Then she recognized the carriage and tension immediately pooled between her shoulder blades.
Lord or Lady Nithsdale.
Whatever the reason for this visit, the first thought to run through her mind was disappointment that Hugh wasn’t here to put these people in their place. After all, it was their guest, Mrs. Douglas, who’d endangered Grace with her careless hints and invitations. If Jo were only strong enough, brave enough, she’d call to task the annoying earl and countess herself.
As she hurried along the path, however, Jo knew she wouldn’t. Propriety always silenced her. That and the gnawing shame that the Nithsdales knew all about her past—about her murky origins and the public scandal that would dog her forever, regardless of the protection of the Pennington name and wealth.
Just as Jo reached the graveled courtyard, the carriage careened through the gates and the frenzied horses were reined in.
“M’lord,” she called out as the portly earl leaped to the ground. “Has something happened?”
“Where is Greysteil?” Nithsdale demanded, moving past her toward the door without so much as a bow.
More proof of how insignificant she was in these people’s opinion, she thought bitterly. Without her family nearby, the man omitted even the most rudimentary courtesies.
“He’s not at home,” she said.
Nithsdale spun around. “But I must speak to him at once.”
How she desperately wanted to tell him how little she cared about his wishes! Sharp words struggled to break free to the surface. Jo searched her inner resources for even an ounce of Hugh’s strength to remonstrate the earl for his ungentlemanly manner of greeting her. But nothing left her lips and she stood silent, frustrated and constrained.
“Speak,” he ordered. “Where can I find his lordship?”
“Melrose Village,” she answered finally, unable to say more.
Without another word to her, Nithsdale shouted to his driver and scrambled into the carriage. As Jo watched the vehicle race down the lane, she tried to convince herself that her bone of contention lay with Lady Nithsdale and not her husband.
That was a lie, Jo admitted silently a moment later. The truth was that she was a coward.
She’d been only a girl at the time, but after news of Wynne Melfort’s proposal circulated, she’d allowed the gossip and the petty arrogance and the envy of people like the Nithsdales to destroy her happiness. Wallowing in the shameful uncertainties of her birth, she hadn’t had the courage to fight the accusations and the innuendo. She had retreated into a cowardly silence.
Fifteen years later, she was still hiding.
* * *
