Page 46 of What a Scot Wants
Ronan’s gut twisted with sorrow even as the feeling of unease settled more deeply into his bones. His instincts were rarely wrong. Silas Calder was trouble.
…
Imogen scrubbed at her bleary eyes, once more cursing her insomnia. It wasn’t only because of Ronan, though her mind had spent far too much time dwelling on his carnal skills. No, her fears were caught up in the return of her previous fiancé.
What was she going to do?
Imogen wasn’t sure that she had sufficiently dissuaded Silas. When they’d left the opera, she’d felt him watching her from afar. Even with Ronan at her side, she hadn’t been able to suppress her shudder. He had to know that she would never accept him, even with his threat of exposure. She just had to work harder to convince him that she wasn’t marriage material. Imogen blinked. He’d claimed he’d been cheated of what he deserved. His fortune. Did he just want money? Everything she owned was earmarked for Haven. Perhaps she could sell some jewels, if that was what it took.
“Are you feeling better, my lady?” Hilda asked, taking her breakfast tray away and bringing her another cool cloth for the megrim she was supposed to have.
Imogen sighed, sparing a glance to her closest confidante and friend. “A bit. Oh, Hilda, it’s such a mess.” She drew a breath. “Silas is here.”
The maid hissed, her face darkening with rage at the name. Hilda had been the one to care for Imogen when McClintock had returned her home so many years ago. Hilda was also the one who had told Imogen the truth of Belinda and opened her eyes to the kind of deceiver Silas was. And continued to be. Imogen kept herself composed, not letting any emotion cross her face, and Hilda calmed after a few deep breaths.
“That bloody snake of a man. I still think you should tell his lordship the truth.”
Imogen exhaled. “You know I cannot.”
She couldn’t risk the scandal, and she loved her parents too much to hurt them.
“So which do I choose to chase away if I can only choose one?” Imogen asked with a sigh. “The snake or the bear?”
“Why not both?” the maid asked.
Imogen met her friend’s eyes. Hilda was more Machiavellian than anyone she knew. In fact, she’d been the one to come up with many of the ideas that Imogen had used to repel suitors. “How do you propose I do that?”
“Court your duke’s seduction. Invite it while deterring Mr. Calder, and when the duke is truly smitten, it won’t take much to break his heart.”
Imogen sucked in a breath. Break his heart. His sister and sister-in-law had confided all he’d endured in his past with the other woman who’d callously broken it. Could she become another Lady Reid? Imogen steeled herself. For her freedom and for Haven, yes, she could. She would have to.
Slowly, she nodded at Hilda. “That could work.”
“You seem hesitant, my lady,” Hilda said, peering at her, too sharp for her own good. “Unless, of course, your feelings have changed for His Grace.”
“No, no, I must think of Haven.” She had to do this, if only for the girls who came to the shelter seeking safety and help. She nodded again, more determined this time. “Inform His Grace that I will be riding in Hyde Park if he would like to join me.”
After performing her ablutions and dressing in her riding habit—a fitted, hunter green fabric that hugged her curves and heightened her eyes—she descended the staircase to the kitchens. Before her outing, she wanted to check in on Rory, who hadn’t escaped a furious tongue-lashing from Imogen. She’d felt sorry when tears had appeared in the girl’s eyes, but Imogen had needed to make a point about the dangers of what Rory had done.
True to his word, Ronan had moved the girl inside. She helped as a chambermaid, and Hilda had taken her under her wing, though Imogen knew that the maid was fast losing patience. Having run wild in Edinburgh with her own ragtag crew, Rory was not the type who took direction easily. But Imogen had been clear—play by the rules or she would be packed off to Edinburgh. So far, the girl had grudgingly complied.
Imogen found her peeling some potatoes, her mouth smeared with jam. She seemed to be more focused on eating than helping, but the cook didn’t look too unhappy about it. In fact, she seemed to be in an agreeable mood. “We need to put some meat on those bones,” she was saying, placing another helping of bread and jam beside the girl.
“How are you doing, Rory?”
“Lady Im,” Rory cried, jumping up, only to be held back by Cook.
“Don’t be gettin’ any sticky fingers on her ladyship now.”
“It’s all right,” Imogen said with a fond smile, rumpling the girl’s hair.
Rory eyed her dress. “Are ye going for a ride? Can I come?”
“Maybe next time. We have to make sure we get you a proper mount. Lord Kincaid will know just the one for you.”
The girl’s eyes brightened. “Cor, that would be great.”
Though Imogen was angry at the way Rory had snuck onto the carriage and travelled to London, she was glad that the girl was with her. She’d been worried about Stormie and what could have happened in Edinburgh once he discovered that Rory wasn’t a boy. At least here, Imogen could get an eye on her and keep her out of trouble.
