Page 52 of A Scot's Pride
Part of her did suspect that her sister going missing was her own doing. Leila was stubborn and impulsive. If she got an idea into her head, she was likely to execute it, no matter the cost.
“Oh, Leila, what have you done?” Freya muttered under her breath.
She was certain Riley also wished it were their sister. At the same time, Riley hoped Ashbury was coming to finally propose to her. They’d been dancing around the ultimate commitment for weeks, and everyone was ready for them to get on with it.
But as the carriage pulled to a stop in front of the house, the crest on the side revealed it was none other than Lady Heaton’s, and all their hopes for Leila, Bryson and Ashbury were dashed.
“Oh, dear. Can we pretend not to be home?” Freya grimaced, her stomach souring at the idea of having to not just speak to but most likely serve tea to a woman who hated her.
“Why would you do that? Maybe she brought Lucy,” Grace said as she bounded toward the front door to open it, as they were without most of their household staff at the moment given it was their day off.
That was only going to make Lady Heaton look down on them more than she already did from her lofty position.
“It is concerning she’s here,” Riley said with a frown etching her brow.
“It is,” Freya acknowledged. Her insides twisted into knots as Freya walked from the window to the door and watched Lady Heaton and Lady Daven alight from the carriage with no one else.
At least she had brought Lady Daven with her. Bryson’s Aunt Bertie was always pleasant to converse with, and there was a chance she might be able to lighten the mood. Still, it didn’t sit well that Lady Heaton was here. Not when she rarely ventured out, and the Grysham household was so far beneath her that the only reason for her call had to be bad news.
Lady Heaton marched into the house without so much as a “how do you do,” while Aunt Bertie was a lot more pleasant in her greeting. Lady Heaton was busy regarding the walls, floor, artwork, carpets, everything, scanning it to see how lowly they were.
Riley, being the oldest and, therefore the hostess of the evening, invited them into the drawing room and told Grace to see about finding their maid for tea.
“What a pleasant surprise,” Riley said as they waited for Lady Heaton to find a seat before they all sat down. The way she was inspecting the furniture, Freya would be surprised if she didn’t choose to stand.
“I won’t beat around the bush,” Lady Heaton said as she finally sat down. Beside her, Lady Daven winced and shot Freya an apologetic look. “We’ve not come under pleasant circumstances.”
Freya’s stomach dropped. “We do hope someone has not taken ill.”
“The only thing ill is this household,” Lady Heaton said, pointing at them with a long bony finger and wagging it as if she were marking them somehow.
“Dear sister, do be kind, there’s no need for insults,” Lady Daven admonished but Lady Heaton ignored her.
“Your sister, Leila,” Lady Heaton said her name as though it burned a hole in her tongue even to pronounce it, “Has eloped.”
Riley and Freya gasped at the same time. Riley looked ready to faint, her face pale, while Freya felt all the blood rush to her cheeks.
“What?” Freya asked, speaking around the bolder that had lodged in her throat. “She eloped with whom, and how do you know this?”
Lady Heaton waved away her questions as if they were annoying midges. “Never mind that. You are to stay away from my family.”
Freya narrowed her brow. “Stay away?”
“Not at all, dear,” Lady Daven said with a pointful glance at Freya.
“Lucy does not need your influences,” the nasty lady bit out.
“I think you mean the influence of an eloper,” Lady Daven added. “Not the other young ladies of the household.”
“I certainly do,” Lady Heaton huffed.
Before any of them could respond, there was another knock at the front door. Grace returned with the maid, who carried tea. Lord Ashbury followed, his hat clutched in his hand as his gaze roamed over the women until he found Riley, the object of his affection. The way his gaze softened on her made Freya’s heart swell.
“Miss Grysham,” he said, not even looking at the older women. “Could I have a word?”
Riley jumped from her chair and followed Ashbury from the drawing room, leaving Freya still in shock about what news Lady Heaton had relayed. It wasn’t like Riley to be rude to her elders or superiors, and well, Freya chalked it up to the insane morning they’d had.
“We are leaving,” Lady Heaton barked, heaving herself from a chair with a harumph.
