Page 49 of The Midnight Secret

He blinked once, twice, but his eyes were vacant. ‘The earl and the countess...’ Was he going to pass out?

‘What about them?’ she demanded, feeling her heart beginning to pound. He was, to use one of Colly’s favourite words, ‘blotto’, but that didn’t mean he was talking gibberish.

‘They said they’d disinherit him,’ he shrugged. ‘But Sholly choseyou!’ He held his hands out towards her in case she was in any doubt of who he meant.

Effie felt the room begin to spin around her. Was that...was that true? Had Sholto’s parents refused to give their blessing for the engagement?

No.

She couldn’t believe he would lie about such a thing to her! Sholto would never lie to her.

And yet...he hadn’t been home in six weeks, traipsing from castle to castle, introducing her ‘to the set’...She remembered their curious gazes every time she stepped into a new room. She had thought it was the class divide that fascinated them, and perhaps it was, to some degree. But if they all knew something she did not – that Sholto had walked away from his family, chosen her over them...He was the only son and heir, not only to the Dumfries earldom, but the marquessate of Bute as well...Was it any wonder she had held them in her thrall?

Oh God – had they all been sworn to silence? Did everyone know but her? She remembered Baird-Hamilton’s polite enquiries about their Christmas plans just an hour previously as he tiptoed around a truth to which she was blind.

No. This couldn’t be happening.

She looked around for Sholto in the crowd, but there was no sign of his beautiful golden head. She began pushing her way towards the door, leaving the swaying viscount in her wake.

It was freezing cold outside, especially for Effie, in just an emerald-green silk dress, and she shivered as she looked down the slope towards the water. A dozen or so yachts were moored along the jetty, just a few lights shining amid the pervasive darkness as the bay of Portree fanned out around them on three sides.

She ran down the steps towards the boats. People werealready moving in groups towards them, laughing and talking as they walked in huddles, their capes and evening coats back on. Effie darted past, an emerald streak.

‘MacLeod’s yacht?’ she asked a woman in marigold taffeta.

‘What?’ the woman barked, looking three sheets to the wind herself.

‘Which is MacLeod’s yacht?’

‘Oh...There,’ the woman pointed. ‘Last but one over—’

‘Thank you,’ Effie muttered, taking off again, running until she stopped in front of a small, slightly battered-looking navy-hulled schooner. It was still dark, but a crack of sunlight was opening on the horizon past the Black Cuillin mountains. She could see someone at the far end of the boat, tinkering with the anchor chain.

‘Hai!’ she called out, her eyes looking everywhere for Sholto.

The man’s head lifted as he heard her come aboard, though he didn’t – couldn’t – turn. ‘Oh good, you made it!’ he called over his shoulder. ‘Jump on!’

A short, narrow gangplank had been laid across onto the jetty and was moving up and down off the surface with the roll of the waves beneath the boat. It would be disconcerting for anyone who didn’t really know how to swim, but if a lifetime of cragging in St Kilda had given Effie anything, it was superior balancing ability. She slipped off her shoes, running easily over the walkway and jumping lightly onto the deck.

No one else was around, but she could see a light shining from a cabin below deck.

‘I’ll be right there,’ MacLeod called again. ‘Go down to the galley so you don’t catch your death. There’s some blankets down there. The wind’s picking up, so I want to get ahead of it while we can.’

Effie hesitated. She really didn’t want to talk to – confront – Sholto about what she had learned in front of all the others; she sensed Bitsy and Peony would take particular relish in showing they had been privy to information about her own situation. But she had only met their host briefly this evening, and she could hardly be the cause of a delay if he was so keen to set off.

She hurried down the steep, short steps into the warmth and braced herself to meet her fiancé’s eyes. Would he see instantly that she knew? After all, she hadn’t known that they’d been living under a lie for the past month and a half. She had taken him at face value.

Below deck she found a small kitchenette with bench seating and seemingly a bedroom space beyond a closed door. To her surprise, the others hadn’t yet arrived, and she realized Sholto and Gladly must still be bringing down the trunks that had been put in the cloakroom on arrival. She had sprung into action too quickly – old habits died hard, clearly – and no doubt both men were getting caught up with drunken goodbyes.

Taking a breath, she tried to calm her shaken thoughts as she stood there alone. Perhaps it was no bad thing to have a few moments to herself. She knew she mustn’t make a scene. She was angry that Sholto had lied, yes, but she also knew full well why he had. He knew that she would never have allowed him to give up his family, his home, his birthright...for her.

She sank onto the bench with a sigh. But now that she did know, what was she going to do about it? It hurt to think of the earl and countess rejecting her, even if she understood it. On a personal level, they had never been anything other than kind and friendly; the earl had often come into the collectionrooms where she worked, and they would talk while she catalogued...Had it come as a bitter surprise to him? He had known she and Sholto were friends, of course. But had he been disappointed that his professional courtesy had been rewarded with her ‘seducing’ his son and heir?

Effie shivered at the thought and took a blanket from one of the benches, wrapping it around herself. Immediately she softened at the comfort; she was cold and so, so tired. She sat down, feeling the exhaustion hit her, the bones spreading in her bare feet as she could finally relax. She tipped her head back and drew another deep breath.

They would talk it out, find a way forward...wouldn’t they? If Sholto wouldn’t give up on her, then she wouldn’t give up either, but they had to come up with some sort of plan for reapproaching his parents. She would never marry him without their blessing.

The boat swung a little, and she looked out through the porthole to see a fishing boat coming back into the harbour, a wake rippling behind it. The fishing boats had always made waves in Village Bay.

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