Page 53 of A Scot's Pride
Lady Daven remained seated.
“Sister, I said we are leaving.” Lady Heaton enunciated each word with a stab of her finger.
“I think I will stay,” Lady Daven drawled out. “Lord Ashbury will give me a ride home, I’m sure.”
“Stay? Why the devil would you do that?” Lady Heaton huffed and marched toward the door without so much as trying to get an answer from her sister.
Despite every bone telling her to remain sitting, Freya could not be rude. So, she hurried after Lady Heaton, following her to the door and walking her out.
“And one more thing,” Lady Heaton said, her face close enough for Freya to get the scent of something rotten. “My nephew, Lord Lovat—well, he’s halfway to Scotland now to meet a bride. When and if he returns, you keep your greedy machinations away from him.”
Freya felt as though the older woman had punched her in the stomach. No, not punched—stabbed. As if she’d thrust a sword through her middle and left it there to tear apart her insides.
Her mouth was still open in shock when she finally returned to the drawing room. The maid finally set out the tea, and Grace, who actually had sweet manners, quietly left the room without Freya having to ask.
Freya’s nerves were frayed as she perched on the edge of her seat, and her eyes stung with the need to shed tears, but somehow, she managed to hold everything in. Bryson had gone to Scotland to get married? That was why he hadn’t shown up this morning. He’d had no intention of coming to ask for her hand but had planned to marry someone else all along. He’d taken advantage of her. Used her cruelly and discarded her as if she were nothing. Freya pressed her hand over her heart as if that would somehow hold together the shattering pieces. She wanted to ask Lady Daven for details, but she was too embarrassed to even broach the topic.
“Are your mother and father home?” Lady Daven asked.
“They’ve gone to look for Leila.” Freya’s voice sounded far away as she spoke.
Lady Daven nodded and then served the tea, though it was Freya who should have done that. Her hands were shaking so badly that she was grateful for her older friend’s help.
“I suspect they will come across the same information my sister has relayed.”
Freya swallowed, blinking. “Everyone in town knows?”
Lady Daven frowned and nodded, stirring a lump of sugar into her tea. “It appears the elopers were not too keen to keep it quiet.”
That was how Lady Heaton had found out, it seemed.
They sat in companionable silence for several beats, and then there was a flurry of activity by the door as her parents, Molly and the rest of the staff returned home.
Mama sounded as if she were in the midst of an attack on her soul, and Father looked drained as he entered the drawing room to find their guest.
Before he could speak, Riley and Ashbury returned, and Ashbury asked to speak privately with the baron.
Riley beamed as she entered the drawing room. “He asked me to marry him,” she said in a most unlike Riley way, near a squeal.
“Congratulations, dear,” Lady Daven said.
Neither of them seemed to notice the splintering of Freya’s heart as she smiled through the pain and hugged her sister. This was happy news for Riley; she didn’t want to ruin it for her by showing her own heartache.
“If you would like to join me,” Lady Daven said to Freya pointedly, “In going north to collect your sister, I would be glad for the company.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.” Freya’s tongue was thick in her mouth as she spoke.
“You don’t have to ask, dear. I’ve already had to help clean up Campbell’s mess once, and I’m happy to do it again.”
At the name of Leila’s intended, Freya jerked. “Campbell? That is who she eloped with?”
Lady Daven nodded, the disdain on her face looking much like Lady Heaton’s usual expression, although it would seem aptly placed this time. “Yes.”
At least collecting Leila before she made a mistake would distract Freya from the heartbreak she was suffering. Getting out of the house was also a good idea, away from the memories she had here.
“I would like that.”
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