Page 113 of The Traitor
Milly lifted her head from Sebastian’s shoulder. “Both, Michael?”
“We do things differently in Scotland.”
“And you haven’t seen this woman in how many years?” Sebastian asked.
Michael stood, his expression not that of a man anticipating a romantic reunion. “If Ihadoffered, even once, to get you off that godforsaken rock pile, would you have come?”
Lavender-scented fingers settled over Sebastian’s mouth. “Don’t answer that,” Milly said. “He didn’t offer, and you were both very kind to poor Freddy.”
“I have a cat to pet.” Michael bowed to them and departed, closing the door quietly behind him. Though he’d tried to hide it, he’d been smiling as he left the room.
Milly subsided against Sebastian, and if he’d had the ability to purr, he would have.
“A wife and a fiancée sounds complicated. I wonder if I should be flattered that Michael chose my company over theirs.”
“You’ll miss him. We’ll visit him, once he’s sorted out his ladies. You had an ally you did not understand as such, and Michael has been more alone even than you.”
Yes, poor Michael, guardian angel at large.
“I owe him an enormous debt, which I can never repay, and so on and so forth. At the moment, I’ve had rather enough of duty, honor, debts, and deceptions. May I please read Mrs. Radcliffe to my wife?”
He thought maybe she’d fallen asleep, so long did it take that wife to respond to his question.
“Mrs. Radcliffe can keep, for now,” she said, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I had rather we put the evening to a different use, sir.”
Alas for Mrs. Radcliffe, in the years following, when the Baron St. Clair offered to read to his wife, she frequently declined his literary generosity in favor of those different pursuits. While Mrs. Radcliffe was neglected, the St. Clair nursery became full to bursting, the quiet of the household entirely cut up by the laughter of the children and the many blessings of a lasting and well deserved—if noisy!—peace.
