Page 73 of Wedded to the Scottish Duke

He followed Lord Pembroke into his study. The Marquess sighed heavily as he closed the door and wiped his damp brow. For a minute, Keith thought the Marquess looked sick because of his fear for his daughter, but he soon realized he was wrong. The Marquess moved to the desk, leaned heavily on it, and picked up a small vial which he downed.

“Are ye well?” Keith suddenly abandoned all stiffness. Instead, he hastened forward, dropping his coat and reaching for the man’s shoulder when he swayed on his feet.

“They tell me there is no cure for what I have.” The Marquess shook his head. “Not that they can even tell me what is wrong with me. Doctors, eh?” He attempted to laugh and shake his head, though it soon faded away. “I’m well enough, Your Grace.”

Yet, as he swayed on his feet again, Keith took action. He steered the gentleman to the nearest chair. The Marquess sat heavily back, his breathing somewhat labored.

Keith scrounged around the room, soon finding a carafe of brandy in a nearby cupboard and pulling it out. He passed a small glass of the stuff to the Marquess, who smiled his thanks.

“They always told me this stuff was good for shock.” The Marquess once more attempted to smile, though it didn’t last very long as he knocked back the brandy.

I have seen something like this before.

Keith slowly sat down beside the Marquess. Once, years ago, when his brother was a child, he had suffered the same sort of dizziness and sweats. It was at first thought to be nothing but a passing flu, only he had steadily gotten worse.

It was their castle healer at the end who had identified what was wrong with his brother and saved his life.

I shall send for her. Perhaps she will know what is wrong with Lord Pembroke.

“Is there anything else I can get for ye?” Keith asked.

“No, but I thank you for the offer.” The Marquess nursed his brandy and then shifted his focus back to Keith.

Once more, Keith felt he was being scrutinized.

“You do realize what you are offering, don’t you? I am not just speaking to a duke now, but to a man… You are offering marriage to a woman you barely know, to protect her reputation.”

“I do.”

“Then I urge you to consider this carefully,” Lord Pembroke said gently and kindly. At once, Keith liked him. “Forever is a long time. Binding yourself to someone forever, when you hardly know them…” he trailed off.

Yet, I do know her.

Keith sat back, thinking of all that he did know about Celia. He knew plenty, but what the Marquess didn’t know was that Keith was considering a different sort of marriage. He would not repeat the mistakes of his father. Celia would have complete freedom from him, the freedom that his mother never had but had always craved.

“I am aware of what I am doing,” Keith assured him in the same soft tone, though his voice was very serious. “It is the right thing to do, for all our sakes.”

“Well, if you are certain.” Lord Pembrooke sighed. “She has a dowry, of course, though I am afraid it is not large.”

“The dowry is not a concern,” Keith assured him quickly.

At one time, it had been all he had thought of. He wanted the dowry to fill the dukedom’s coffers, but now that need didn’t seem so important, not when they were talking about Celia. He had enough to get by and could make investments elsewhere to improve his financial situation.

“I have plenty of money. Aye, this is just about doing what is needed now. I shall obtain a special license so we can marry as soon as possible.”

“Very well.” Lord Pembroke lifted his head off the back of the chair, looking even more tired than before. “I wish I could have welcomed you into my family in another way.”

Keith shifted at this thought. For a second, he indulged in a wild imagining of having courted Celia, of the two of them falling desperately in love, being so besotted that they could barely spend a minute away from one another?—

No!

He pushed the thought away at once. Such obsessions and infatuations were dangerous. He had to put a stop to them.

“We deal with the life we are given, aye,” Keith said slowly. “I am quite determined though, My Lord. I will not be deterred from doing what is right.”

“I am pleased to see that you are a good man, but forgive me for pointing out that there is perhaps one thing you have forgotten to consider.” Lord Pembroke offered the smallest of sly smiles as he raised his glass to his lips again. “You forget we have not heard Celia’s answer yet.”

Celia burst through the door. It slammed against the wall, though she barely noticed. She issued a hurried apology to the poor butler, who stood in the entrance hall looking rather shaken.

---