Page 73 of What a Scot Wants
With disgust. And disappointment.
“Shall I come in with ye?” he asked when they arrived at Kincaid Manor.
“No,” she said much too quickly. “No, thank you. I’ll be fine from here. Good night, Ronan.”
He caught her hand before she could leave the carriage. “I meant what I said earlier, Imogen. I’ve reconsidered everything. I hope ye can as well.”
His warm, earnest stare made her chest tight. She nodded, the motion ungainly. “I will think on it.” He released her to the curb, and her knees nearly dissolved underneath her.
She needed space to breathe. To think and sort through all of these confusing emotions at war inside of her.I dunnae want to be free of ye.He had meant it. Truly? Imogen groaned. Ronan Maclaren had smashed through every last protective barrier she’d built around her heart over these last dozen years. She’d never felt more exposed.
But as she stood on the stoop, it wasn’t fear she felt because of it. She stared at the man standing there and felt her ribs loosen as if a great weight had been removed from her person. She felt unencumbered…an odd sensation for someone who had always felt the constant yoke of her station, her wealth, her family name, and her gender.
Washethe cause?
Imogen exhaled. It was early yet. And from the looks of it, her parents had yet to retire, if the blazing lights in the foyer were any signal. Normally, they were quick to bed after any function, leaving only a small candle burning for when she returned. But they were still awake, it seemed.
“Actually, Your Grace, if it pleases you to come in, it appears Mama and Papa are still awake,” she said, amending her reply with a shy smile. “Though it’s not necessary.”
“I will see ye inside, then, my lady,” Ronan said, making a gallant bow.
The reason for the lights was evident when they entered the foyer.
“Imogen, is that you, dear? Come in, come in. We have news.”
News?Her father’s jovial voice, coming from the drawing room, surprised her. She looked to Ronan, who stood back and gestured that she should go to him.
As soon as she did, Imogen almost fled the way she’d come. Especially when she saw that her parents weren’t alone. She blinked in disbelief. What in the hell was Silas Calder doing there, sitting as cool as a cucumber in the drawing room? Especially considering what had already happened that evening? Was her father in his cups? She inched forward through the open door and noticed Lady Kincaid ensconced in her favorite armchair. Her face denoted nothing of concern, and she seemed in good spirits as well.
Her gaze slid to the wolf in sheep’s clothing, who was sipping a brandy as bold as you please. Silas shot her a sly, victorious grin that snaked across her skin. Imogen frowned, worried, knowing she had to be where he was concerned. Had he come to share her secret? Lay her shame bare? Tell her parents that she was ruined and he’d been the one to do it. Her heart hitched. It was a part of the story she had left out with Ronan. What would he think of her? Would he still want her, knowing she’d been with another man?
She shook herself and tamped down her frantic emotions.
“News?” she asked, proud that her voice remained strong.
“Yes, yes. Silas, as you know, has returned from the Continent and has expressed an interest to court you. Now, before you make any protest, he has told us the truth of why he cried off.” With some alarm, Imogen saw that her father’s face held a ridiculous amount of fatherly sentiment toward the man. It made her sick. What kind of lies had Silas told them? Lord Kincaid went on, oblivious to the horror keeping her mute. “He said he didn’t think he was enough for you back then and wanted to make his own way and his fortune to be worthy of you. Before what tragically befell Lady Beatrice, he realized his heart was here, with you. He can take care of you now, if you truly do not want to marry the boorish Highlander, as you call him. You accepted him before, and I am happy to give my blessing if this is what you want.”
“No,” she croaked, but the word did not emerge. Nothing came out but an inaudible noise. How dare he speak of Lady Beatrice! He was responsible for that poor girl’s death! Imogen composed herself and drew a bracing breath, stifling her urge to scream. “What about the betrothal agreement with Dunrannoch? And the rest of my dowry?”
Her father shrugged, a strange, guilty-looking expression crossing his face. “We have always acted in your best interests, Imogen. Your mother and I only want for your happiness and to see you secure andsafe. We were desperate, you see. You seemed so determined not to wed, and we had to use the thing you held the most dear to force your hand.”
“Haven,” she breathed out.
He nodded. “But that property is yours and will always be yours. I will provide recompense to the duke in lieu of it. However, you will still forfeit the rest of your dowry, as promised in the contract. Silas here, good man that he is, has agreed to marry you with no dowry, given the circumstances.”
He clapped the man on the shoulder with an approving grin. Imogen’s eyes narrowed. No dowry? What was Silas playing at?
“He only wants you, Imogen,” Lady Kincaid said as if reading her mind, and Imogen could see the rainbows in her mother’s eyes from where she stood. “He says you are his dearest love and the only thing that will make him happy. And he has agreed to come back and work for your father. Isn’t that wonderful?”
Imogen couldn’t breathe as her eyes met Silas’s. Gracious, he’d thought this scheme out to the letter. Spun her parents a fantastic tale about true love and had them eating out of his hand. He’d come back to get what he felt he’d been cheated of.
Silas didn’t want her. No, what he truly wanted was to ingratiate himself to Lord Kincaid and fleecehimfor all he was worth. Which was quite a lot. Her dowry, as obscene as it was, was a drop in the bucket of her father’s wealth.
“What say you, Imogen?” her father boomed, and she jerked out of her fugue. “Come now, put the poor boy out of his misery, will you? I’ll send a man to the duke with our regrets.”
Silas met her eye and smirked. The look on his face was smug, as though he’d already won. Imogen bit her lip, her heart battering her rib cage. She had known it would come to this…that she would have to face her demons sooner or later. Only, she didn’t think she would have to marry the worst of the lot of them. If she refused, would he reveal her shame? Expose her ruination and cause a scandal? A chill swept across her neck, and she felt lightheaded. Dear God, she wasn’t going to swoon, was she?
A large hand slid against hers, and she gripped it gratefully. She’d forgotten Ronan had escorted her inside, though he’d remained just out of sight of the doorway. Until now. Horrified at how her father had referred to him, Imogen spared him a quick glance. His face was expressionless, though his body had gone tense beside hers at the realization of the unexpected guest’s presence. And, no doubt, his offer.
