Page 72 of When the Laird Conquers

She managed to hold her tongue and suppress her anger, but it fizzled in her veins regardless. All the things she had felt these past months since Lizzy’s arrival into the world and Christine’s departure from it, all the things she had bottled up because she had been given no other choice.

“I realize it might not seem ideal,” she pressed, “but the Laird is a good man. He promised to look after us, and he is… he is my… he is my ally. He has asked for nothing in return, and I know that Edwin would never be stupid enough to try and take Lizzy from this place.”

Her father’s eyes were misty as he croaked out, “But you will be ruined, Agnes. No one will marry you when they hear of this.”

“No one will marry me anyway because I have no intention of leaving Lizzy,” she shot back. “Do you think any gentleman will agree to take in my niece? I am ruined anyway, even if no one in society knows much about what I am doing.”

“Ruined anyway?” Her father’s jaw clenched. “What do you mean? What have you done?”

He had misunderstood her completely.

“Nothing! Nothing has happened, Father,” she replied, her face flushed. “That is not what I meant. I meant that… my hands are already tied, and my options are already limited, but at least here, my niece—your granddaughter—is safe. That is all that matters to me.”

Her father seemed pensive, mulling over the meat of what she had just said. Either that, or he was trying to figure out if she was lying to him.

I am never going back, she wanted to tell him, but that sense of belonging that she had experienced a short while ago was fading by the day.

“If that is true, and if society really doesn’t know much of all this, then… we must find another husband for you, as soon as possible,” her father declared with a decisive nod. “You are still the daughter of an earl. You still have merit, and I am certain there is someone out there who will accept Lizzy too, before that wretched beast, Edwin, can do anything.”

Agnes’s heart sank. True, she had considered the same thing, had even searched through her almanac of lairds for someone more suitable. The trouble was, she had continually found herself back on Gordon’s page, reading between the lines of his entry.

Marrying someone else would be a good idea, if only for Lizzy’s long-term safety, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit it.

“I should speak to the Laird,” she said hastily. “Meanwhile, you should settle in. I will have the housekeeper prepare a room for you.”

She darted out before her father could say anything else, in case what he had to say was, “I am not staying for the party, and neither are you. We are going back to England at once.”

Gordon sat down behind his desk and swept a hand through his hair, feeling uneasy about the entire evening. He glanced at his arm, still covered in paint, and shook his head.

What is the lass doin’ to me?

He had lost all control in her bedchamber, and he had lost all control tonight, destroying years’ worth of work. Paintings that he would never be able to get back, moments in time that were now ruined.

To add insult to injury, now he had to deal with her father, who probably wanted to kill him for not marrying her.

He sank back in his chair, closed his eyes, and expelled a weary sigh. He had never felt this tired in all his life, exhausted to his very marrow. The chair was not at all comfortable, but he could easily have fallen asleep there.

Footsteps in the hallway outside snapped his eyes open, his brow furrowing as a knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” he called warily.

Agnes stepped inside, surprising him. He had assumed she wouldn’t want to see him again anytime soon.

“Apologies for the intrusion,” she said, sounding oddly detached.

He shrugged. “I trust ye had an illuminatin’ conversation with yer faither?”

“Yes… Yes, something like that.” She moved further into the room.

Daenae ask about me son, he begged silently, for that would surely sap what little vigor he had left. Indeed, he wished he hadn’t mentioned the boy and was not entirely sure why he had.

“My father thinks…” She faltered. “What I mean to say is, we talked for a while and… Gordon, I am very grateful for the protection you have granted to my niece and me. It was generous of you, and I know you didn’t have to agree to it, so… thank you for that.”

He watched her closely, uncertain of where this conversation was headed. “Ye’re welcome.”

“But he is not the man he was when I left England,” she continued, her hands clasped against her stomach. “He was stuck in his grief then, and he seems… more inclined to help me than he was before. More reliable, I suppose.”

Gordon wasn’t sure he liked the direction the conversation was heading.