Forgetting the Scot Read online

  “I never lost you. Followed you all the way from Richards & Eggheads. When I realized you were trying to lose me, I hung back.”

  “So, you saw the whole—”

  “Six men. I’ve never seen anything like it. Bloody impressive. Can’t wait to tell the whole club.”

  “Why did you no’ step in earlier, man?”

  Bull was taken aback. “I thought you were holding your own quite well. Until that last bit, of course.”

  Magnus prodded his nose. “I think I broke it.”

  “You’ve got a black eye, a broken nose, a split lip, and at least two cracked ribs.”

  Magnus held out his glass for a refill.

  “Mind if I join you?” Bull asked.

  “Suit yourself. But dinnae talk to me about…” Magnus waved his hand to signify all that was shite in his life.

  “Wouldn’t think of it.”

  Odd. As poorly as he was, he thought the last person he’d enjoy seeing was Bull. And yet, he found the fellow’s company a balm to his black disposition. He hadn’t known the numpty much longer than a day, but he’d grown used to the fellow.

  “I thought I’d visit a friend just outside the city tomorrow, take a look at a two-year-old thoroughbred he’s got for sale. A promising filly with excellent bloodlines. Care to join me?”

  Magnus didn’t answer.

  “Who knows, my friend may have a line on Perch-arounds,” Bull cajoled.

  “Percherons,” Magnus corrected.

  “Percherons, yes well, even if he doesn’t, it’s always enjoyable to spend a day with horses.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “I ken I was about to die on that tavern floor.”

  “My pleasure.” Bull turned away and adjusted his cravat, a fidgety move, as if uncomfortable with Magnus’s gratitude. “I don’t want to bring up a sore subject, but I’ve been thinking. Something about Lady Langley’s letter puzzled me.”

  “I thought she was plain enough.”

  “Yes, but what did she mean by there has been a change of circumstances? What do you suppose changed between last night at midnight and eight this morning?”

  Sour saliva flooded Magnus’s mouth as bile threatened to rise up the back of his throat. A thousand things could have happened in eight hours. Most of them bad. Why the hell hadn’t he thought about those words? The only thing he had reacted to was that she wished to stay married to Langley and how that affected him. He’d only thought about himself.

  “And you think she needs me?”

  “Give me some credit, Sinclair. It’s obvious you’re in love with Lady Langley and she with you. She wouldn’t change her mind unless something radical had happened, some threat to her or you or that home for strays she’s so committed to. I’m certainly not going to stand by and allow Langley to ruin your lives without trying to stop him. Are you with me?”

  “Get us a coach! Now!”

  “That’s what I thought you’d say. It’s waiting for us outside.”

  …

  Aunt Mina met Virginia and Jemima at the door and began her interrogation before they’d removed their bonnets.

  “I don’t know who you think you are, leaving the house with my butler whenever you like. Where have you been? And you, Garfield, you’re lucky I don’t sack you on the spot.”

  Ignoring her aunt’s foul temper, Virginia attempted to make civil introductions. “Lady Langley, this is my aunt Mina. Unfortunately, she is under the illusion that this is her house, despite the fact that I have corrected her only this morning.”

  “Such insolence. I will not tolerate such insolence.”

  “Then I beg you to leave us, Aunt. I wouldn’t want to bruise your delicate sensibilities any further.”

  Virginia experienced an exhilarating surge of triumph when Mina stomped off in a huff. If she’d known it was that easy to send the disagreeable woman scurrying to her corner, she would have taken the upper hand years ago.

  “Would you like tea in the parlor, my lady?” Garfield asked.

  “Yes, thank you. And it should go without saying, my aunt has no authority to sack any of the household.”

  “Of course, my lady.”

  She turned her attention to Jemima who did not look at all well. “Come into the parlor with me and sit. You’ll feel better after we have tea and something to eat.”

  Jemima let Virginia lead her to the settee. “Are you sure it’s all right that I’m here? Your aunt seems upset.”

  “The woman has been in a sour mood for forty years. She doesn’t know how to behave otherwise. I find it best to ignore her.”

  “What if Langley comes here looking for me?”

  “Garfield won’t allow him in the house, but you’re right to be concerned. You can’t stay here forever. We have to find a safe place until we get this mess straightened out.”

  “I can’t go home. My father will just return me to Bromley Hall.”

  “Lucy’s brother is here in London. Do you remember him?”

  “Yes. I only met him once when we were children. He was a beastly tease, as I recall.”

  Virginia laughed. “Well, he’s grown up, and he’s not at all beastly anymore. He’s quite nice, really. And, there’s another man, my friend and my protector. His name is Mr. Magnus Sinclair.”

  “Alex’s brother?”

  “His cousin.” Virginia felt her cheeks color talking about Magnus. “Anyway, I trust these men with my life. You can trust them, as well. If you like, they’ll take you to Lucy at Maidstone Hall. You can stay there until…well, until I get things sorted with Langley.”

  “How will you do that?”

  Garfield entered with a tray and set it on the table in front of the settee. “Cold beef, cheese, and savory scones. Cook found a pineapple she thought you might like, as well.”

  “Lovely. Please tell Cook thank you. It’s kind of her to remember I like pineapple.”

  “Anything else, my lady?”

  “Has Mr. Sinclair sent word?”

  “No word as yet, my lady. Would you like me to send an inquiry to Lord Bulford’s club?”

  “No, that’s all right. I’m sure they’ll come ’round soon.”

  “Fine then. I’ll see that a room is prepared for Her Ladyship.” Garfield bowed and left the parlor.

  Virginia silently served Jemima tea and one of the two plates of food Cook had prepared. The fact that it was nearly four in the afternoon and no word from Magnus troubled her more than she wanted to admit. He must be wondering why she had changed their plan abruptly, but she’d had so little time this morning. She’d dashed off the note so quickly and—

  “Lady Langley?”

  Virginia jerked her attention back to her guest.

  “Sorry. It gets rather confusing with both of us Lady Langley,” Jemima said. “I don’t know what else to call you.”

  “Not at all. Perhaps you should call me Virginia. Lucy does.”

  “Very well, then. Virginia, you were going to tell me how you will sort things with Langley.”

  “Yes.” Virginia hesitated. “I haven’t thought everything through, as yet.”

  “Given that you already know he’s cruel, I don’t understand why you want to remain married to Langley. Do you love him?”

  There was only one man Virginia loved, Magnus Sinclair. She’d tried to tell him last night, but there hadn’t been time. And now time had run out. Her opportunity to free herself from Langley had come and gone. Her one glimmer of a chance had evaporated this morning when she’d found out Lucy’s friend was the woman caught in Langley’s snare.

  What troubled her more, however, was how Magnus would react. No doubt he would be angered, defensive. Worse, he might even confront Langley, challenge him—a conflict that would end with one of them dead. Either way, the consequences for Magnus would be dire. She had to get him out of the city as soon as possible.

  Virginia shot to her feet when she heard the knock on the front door. Magnus was here. “That’s Mr. Sinclair and Bulford
.” A thrill rippled through her. Magnus had come to her, and for a little while at least, she could stave off the constant fear of Langley’s anger. “No need to worry. They’re here now.”

  Aunt Mina darted past the parlor door headed for the entry. The front door banged open.

  “Where is she!”

  Virginia stopped breathing and Jemima rasped a terrified, “Oh dear God. He’s here.”

  Langley filled the entrance to the parlor blocking any possible escape. “I thought I’d seen the last of you,” he sneered.

  Mina stood behind him, a self-satisfied set to her chin.

  “Aunt Mina, you didn’t…”

  Langley chucked a look over his shoulder at Mina. “The old crone knows better than to cross me. She sent word of your arrival to my club this morning.” He must have spotted Jemima tucked behind the settee, because he lurched into the room on a roar. “What the hell are you doing out of your cage?”

  He shoved Virginia aside and grabbed Jemima’s arm, the one she favored. She screamed in agony.

  “Let her go!” Virginia tried to step between them, but he batted her away, and she fell hard against the settee.

  “Please, you’re hurting me.” Jemima’s plea was cut short when he shook her hard enough to scramble her brains.

  Virginia picked up the teapot and tossed the contents at Langley’s head. It was no longer hot enough to scald the man, but it made him falter, and Jemima slipped from his grasp. Garfield’s tall figure entered the fray. He grabbed Langley by the back of his coat, attempting to haul him out of the room. Langley wrenched free and swung at Garfield who dodged the blow and then landed a good one of his own on Langley’s chin. Langley staggered backward and crashed into the painted heat screen in front of the hearth. After shaking himself off, he snatched up a poker.

  She shouted. “No! Stop! You’ll kill him!”

  He took a deadly swipe, striking a glancing blow to the side of Garfield’s head. Her butler went down hard on the carpet, blood trickling freely from a gash on his scalp. The whole time, Jemima crouched in the corner, arms covering her head, crying, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  Virginia bent to see if Garfield still lived, but Langley grabbed her by the hair and lifted her head to his. He frothed and spat, as he raged in her ear, “You were supposed to die. Those imbeciles were supposed to kill you.”

  “Langley, listen to me. You’re making things worse. All I want is my trust money. You can have everything else. I’ll go away. I won’t make any trouble. But you must let Jemima go.”

  “You are a ghost. Nothing but a ghost. I’m sending you back to where you belong, six feet under the ground. And this time, you’ll stay there.”

  “If you kill me, you’ll hang.”

  “Don’t be stupid. No one can accuse me of killing you. You’re already dead.”

  “My solicitors know. They’ve seen me. And all the servants.”

  He gave her another vicious shake. “Bitch! What have you done?”

  The voice of her champion roared, “Let her go!”

  Langley tossed Virginia away, and she sailed across the room into the table. Both she and the tea tray full of dishes crashed to the carpet.

  Magnus dashed to her side. “Are ye all right, love?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Magnus rose slowly to his full height and snarled, “Put the bloody pistol down now, or I’ll break your neck.”

  Langley had found the dueling pistol on the desk and was pointing it at Magnus.

  Langley laughed. “This is perfect. When the magistrate finds the tart dead, they’ll blame the Scot. You’ll be the one to hang.”

  Virginia scrambled to her feet and Langley swung the barrel of the pistol in her direction.

  Magnus stepped in front of her. “No!”

  A flash winked, a puff of smoke plumed, and Magnus’s body jerked.

  At the same time, Jemima rose up from the corner with a war cry, grabbed the letter opener from the desk, and stabbed it into Langley’s neck.

  Everything in Virginia’s world slowed like the dissipating gun smoke. She’d never have imagined anything so tiny as a lead ball could take the big man down, but Magnus toppled backward. She reached for him, grabbed at his arm to break his fall, but he slipped away and hit the carpet with a sickening thud. The crack of the pistol deafened her to the sounds that came afterward. She knelt at his side. He lay deathly still, arms flung out, eyes shut. She swiped aside his coat.

  “Please Lord, no.”

  The ball had hit him in the chest, over his heart. A red stain grew on his linen shirt, and she placed her hands over it to stem the tide. She couldn’t see clearly anymore. Her spectacles were gone and her eyes were blurred with tears.

  Bulford had entered the room and shouted at Langley, something about murdering Sinclair in cold blood and he would see him hanged. Two sets of footsteps thumped past her, and the scuffle left the parlor.

  Magnus lay before her not breathing, still as…

  “Don’t leave me. Magnus, please don’t leave me. I love you. I love you. Can you hear me? I love you.” Would he not open his eyes? “Please, my love, look at me.” She kissed his sweet mouth.

  “Get off him,” Mina spat. “You look like a whore.”

  “Get out!”

  Mina left, called away from the parlor by some commotion on the street outside the house. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Magnus was gone. Her love was gone.

  Garfield stirred on the floor next to Magnus and slowly got to his knees, clutching his head. He checked his hands and found them covered with blood. “My lady, are you all right?”

  She shook her head, “He’s…he’s…” The words wouldn’t come.

  “Oh, my dear lady, I am so very sorry.”

  She felt a tremor under her hand. A stuttering, arrhythmic beat: bump, ba-bump, ba-bump.

  Bulford appeared at the doorway breathing heavily and looking stricken.

  “What?” she asked. What other awful news had he come to lay at her feet?

  …

  Magnus ran to her. She lay sprawled on the floor, the shattered remains of tea strewn about her. She was uninjured, thank God. He read the plea in her eyes. Don’t do it. Don’t kill him. You promised.

  No. He didn’t come to kill Langley. He’d come to save Virginia and to die. He reacted with purpose, with resolve, sure of the rightness of his actions. He stepped into the line of fire, and the force of the ball knocked him blind.

  He floated down, down, down. He took her with him, away from the others. It was dangerous with the strangers so near, but he needed to have her alone again. He would have her, kiss her, stroke her until she understood that she belonged to no one else but him. He’d had this dream before, making love to Virginia. She said his name over and over again like she always did when he’d pleased her well. And they sank deeper into the depths of the sea, so warm and embracing he never wanted to reach bottom.

  “I love you,” she said.

  Like before, she pressed a finger into the bleeding hole in his chest. Only this time she reached her whole hand inside and withdrew his heart. She floated up toward the surface light, getting smaller and farther away. He reached for her, but it was too late. He would hit the bottom without her and that would be his death.

  And then she was there again. With him. Pulling him to shore. Pressing her lips to his. With one great push, she thrust his heart back into his chest.

  Pain twisted his body into a fist-like ball, and he roared his protest. “Ach!”

  He curled into himself. Bleeding. His heart was bleeding. “Bloody hell, I’m shot.” The bastard in Virginia’s salon had shot him with the butler’s gun. He panted. Every short gasp cut off by another stabbing, jabbing pain. He cried out again, but it only sharpened the agony.

  “Magnus.”

  He opened his eyes to Virginia’s face. Her beautiful, frightened, tear-streaked face.

  “You—” He groaned at another knifelike stab. “You all right?�
�

  “Yes, my love. Lie back. We need to get you a doctor.” She shouted to someone behind him. “Get the surgeon! Run!”

  He couldn’t uncurl himself. The ache had seized him, frozen him into this ball of limbs. Slowly the pain pulled in on itself, focusing on the one spot, the divot in his chest over his heart. A burning, searing heat. He pushed her hand away.

  “No, you must let me press—”

  He growled—unacceptable in Virginia’s England, but he didn’t give a damn at the moment. He tore open his shirt and saw the hole where the ball entered, reached his fingers in, and pulled out what had been tormenting him—a flattened lead disk. The shot. It had only broken the skin and imbedded there.

  He stared at the misshapen lump for a moment. When Virginia held out a hand, he dropped the bloody thing in her palm.

  “My heart still beats for you,” he said.

  She sobbed once and kissed him. He would have kissed her back, but he was tired. Very tired.

  …

  “Quick. Garfield, help me get him upstairs,” Bulford said, scooping Magnus off the floor by the armpits.

  “But why? Shouldn’t we wait for the surgeon?” Virginia asked.

  Garfield and Bulford shouldered Magnus to his feet.

  “He murdered Langley!” Aunt Mina screeched.

  Bulford jerked his head in Mina’s direction. “That’s why. The local constable will be here soon. He’ll blame the Scot unless I have an opportunity to talk to him first.” Bulford and Garfield half dragged, half walked Magnus to the staircase. “Which one is your room?”

  “Second door on the right,” Virginia called.

  “Murderer!” Mina shouted.

  “Someone get her out of here!” Bulford shouted back.

  “Mina,” Virginia barked. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll go to your room and stay there now!” When the woman didn’t move, she added, “Or I will throw you out on the street tonight.”

  Aunt Mina made an indignant growl and marched upstairs behind the men.

  “I did it.”

  Virginia whirled and found a wide-eyed, trembling Jemima staring at the bloody letter opener in her hand. “Give it to me, dear. I’ll take it.”