Page 78 of Romancing the Scot
Hugh looked at Grace. “I know how to proceed now, thanks to you. Fine work, indeed.”
“What will you do?” she asked.
“We have a great deal happening this week,” he continued. “It will be best if I ride directly to Edinburgh and call my court into session tomorrow.”
“And what will happen to her?”
“Based on all you and Branson have given me, I’ll not send the case back to the lower courts. I’ll rule from the bench that an impartial jury, upon hearing the additional evidence would find a charge of murder ‘Not Proven,’ if even that. Therefore, to avoid more time and expense being wasted . . .” Hugh took her hand in his. “I’ll dismiss the case for—as you said—lack of sufficient evidence to go to trial. Jean Campbell will be freed.”
Chapter 27
Baronsford had been approaching a state of pandemonium all day. Mrs. Henson and Mr. Simons each led their armies of housemaids and chambermaids and kitchen maids and cooks and valets and footmen through wing after wing and floor after floor of the house in preparation for the arrival of Lord and Lady Aytoun.
Grace decided that staying out of the way would be her best course of action. After looking in on Darby in the morning while the doctor was visiting, she divided the rest of her time between the lower library, the gardens, and the kennels, where a new litter of pups had recently been born.
As the Monday sun dropped lower in the western sky, Grace’s anxiety grew. Hugh had not yet returned from Edinburgh, and he’d told her that his parents would probably arrive by Tuesday at the latest. And that worried her dreadfully.
Scattered among the years of accompanying her father and his regiment on the battlefields, she’d had the opportunity of being introduced to some of the most powerful people in Europe. But never, before meeting Hugh, had she felt such insecurity about who she was or how she’d be received.
Standing at the window of the library and watching the golden light bathing the distant meadows, she realized that she had so much to lose. If Hugh were here, she knew his presence would bolster her spirits, and Grace found herself fervently wishing that the earl and the countess would come later, rather than sooner.
An hour later, Hugh had still not arrived, and Jo and Grace shared a modest dinner together in the small dining room.
“They do this every time,” Jo told her, referring to Mrs. Henson and Mr. Simons. “Hugh lives here virtually all year round. Even though most of the house goes unused, Baronsford is never closed up in any season, even when my brother is visiting in London or Hertfordshire or Edinburgh. He never reduces the size of the staff. The Prince Regent himself could arrive at any moment, with his entire court, and Baronsford would be ready to receive him. Still, those two go out of their way to outdo each other, battling away as if they were in a competition.”
Jo told her about the unending array of decisions the housekeeper and the butler brought to her during the day. Anytime she’d tried to get up to the tower house for even a moment, someone was at her elbow, requesting her presence or opinion.
“You, my friend, will do an excellent job of running this place when you’re mistress of Baronsford.”
Grace shook her head, hoping Jo would be more sympathetic to her reluctance about speaking openly about this with servants bustling about. But it was not to be. There was no stopping her.
“I’m only here for a short time, mostly in the spring and summer.” Jo smiled at her and nodded to have their plates taken away. “But this house needs a real mistress. A confident and capable woman with a loving heart and a first-rate mind. You’ll be perfect for it . . . and for him.”
Grace pressed her hand against her jittery stomach, wishing she could share her friend’s optimism. Since learning the news yesterday, Jo had mentioned the wedding more times than Grace could count. It was as if the more she spoke of it, the more certain it was that the event would take place. Though Grace would never have said a word, she found it surprising for a woman who’d seen her own future altered dramatically at the last moment because of a question of “suitability.”
“Please tell Mrs. Henson and Mr. Simons that they should allow the staff to retire for the evening,” Jo told a second butler as the last of their plates were cleared. “Everyone has done quite enough work for the day.”
“Then you don’t expect your parents to arrive tonight?” Grace said, trying to keep the note of hopefulness out of her voice.
“I shouldn’t think so. My father is not fond of traveling after dark. I believe it’s safe to assume that they’ve already stopped at some inn along the way.”
Grace didn’t say it, but she was relieved. She wanted Hugh to be here when they arrived. She knew she’d do much better for that first meeting if he were making the introductions.
Later, when Jo retired to bed, Grace slipped into Hugh’s study, surveying the stacked volumes of trials, judgments, cases that she’d been reading for three days now. As she began to replace the books on the shelves, she reminded herself that whatever her own worries were, they were nothing compared to the reality of those who were less fortunate. Women and men with no education. Those poor souls who had no skills and no work. Those who needed to steal to feed their family. Those who suffered for months and years in the jails only because they could not afford adequate legal representation.
She thought of Jean Campbell and everything the Irish woman had gone through over the past six months. Today, Hugh was in Edinburgh to set her free. But Grace wasn’t a fool. She knew that Mrs. Campbell’s troubles were far from over.
Grace thought of the ragged children of the streets that she saw everywhere she traveled. That woman’s young ones might join their numbers. The law cases that filled these walls were a sacred history, chapter and verse, of the perpetual poverty that led to crimes of survival, generation after generation.
Settling into a chair with a volume of more recent cases in the Scottish courts, Grace soon lost track of time. Law and its varying interpretations fascinated her. Never before this week had she seen how valuable her memory could be in the service of others.
She was lost in her reading when voices outside of the study alerted her to Hugh’s return. As she scrambled to her feet, the study door opened. She drank in the sight of him. His impressive height and wide shoulders filled the doorway. Her gaze paid homage to his handsome face and lingered on his sensual mouth. She was starved for the taste of him.
“M’lord,” she said, as a subtle warmth spread from her heart to every limb in her body.
It was some time before his dark gaze released her and Grace became aware of the presence of his law clerk, who’d come in behind him. As Hugh came toward her, she realized that until this moment her entire day had been missing something vital.
She clutched the book she’d been reading tightly in one hand. Her face burned from the way he focused on her and nothing else. He looked ready to cast aside propriety and take her into his arms. She glanced meaningfully at the cheerful face of the clerk and back to Hugh.
