Page 81 of What a Scot Wants
Hilda bustled into the room, her round face pale and drawn. The maid, who knew the truth of what happened, had been distraught at Imogen’s disappearance and upon her safe return hadn’t let her mistress out of her sight, fussing like a clucking hen. Rory, too. It was a miracle that the girl had even agreed to go to bed in her own bedchamber, but she’d been exhausted. Between the two of them and Ronan, Imogen had not wanted for company. Or shadows on her every step. But now, she was restless and sick of being indoors for two days.
“Are you sure there’s no entertainment tonight? Perhaps a musicale or a soiree?” she asked.
Hilda sniffed. “Perhaps it’s too soon for you to be up and about, my lady.”
“I’m not made of glass, Hilda.”
The maid frowned, her glance falling to the darkened skin at her wrists. “Yes, just very vulnerable flesh and bone.”
“If you’re worried about people seeing these marks, I will wear gloves.” She huffed a breath. “I’m not afraid of Silas, and even if I were, he would not attack me in public.”
“He took you off the streets!” she shrieked. “Snatched you like a plucked flower, in full view of everyone.”
She had a point. But Imogen did not want to cower in hiding. “I need to get out of this house, Hilda.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
The voice came from the open doorway, and both Imogen and Hilda looked up to see Aisla standing there. Her usual smiling expression was conspicuously missing. Imogen frowned, reading into the emotions playing across her face.
“Sorry, Burns said you were up here, and I told him not to announce me,” she said in a breathy rush. “May I come in?”
“Of course,” Imogen said. “Is anything the matter? What’s wrong? Is Ronan all right?”
Aisla gave her a circumspect look but shook her head quickly. “Ronan is fine. This is about you, actually.”
“About me?” Imogen said, directing her to a chair in the small seating area of her chamber and asking Hilda to fetch a maid for tea. She turned to her friend with a quick frown. “Or perhaps something stronger than tea?”
“Stronger, trust me.” Aisla settled into an armchair, her face tight, and waited for Imogen to get settled opposite her before canting her head. “There’s no easy way to say this,” she began. “There are rumors.”
“Rumors?”
Aisla nodded. “About you and Silas Calder.”
Imogen felt her heart shudder and slow. She’d known that something like this might happen. She wouldn’t have put it past him to spread some scandalous gossip about her…anything to turn the tide in his favor. “What are they saying?”
“Terrible things,” she whispered.
Imogen squared her shoulders. “Nothing that man says can hurt me.”
“Thiscan,” Aisla said, her mouth downturned. “The gossip rags are saying that since your attack, you are damaged goods, and that you’re ruined.” She paused, wringing her fingers, speaking just as Imogen opened her mouth to argue that she wasn’t afraid of a little gossip. “It gets worse. They are saying that you work with lowlifes in Edinburgh and that it’s tainted you. That the shelter you run has leached into your life and you have lowbrow and vulgar tastes.”
“What does that even mean?” Imogen asked. “Haven provides hope for women who have none. What’s vulgar about that?”
“Nothing, dear,” Aisla said, lifting a hand as if to placate her. “Not to us. What you do there is truly remarkable. They are saying…” She broke off, sending Imogen an agonized glance before continuing. “They’re saying that you encouraged him.”
“I did nothing of the sort. He’s behind it!”
Aisla shrugged. “You and I know that. Ronan knows that. But you know how thetonis and how fast gossip travels, especially when it involves tearing down one of our own. And right now, you’re a juicy target.” She cleared her throat. “The way people have perceived you these last few weeks in London, particularly after the Bradburne ball, hasn’t been pleasant. The older denizens of thetonclaimed that you were flaunting your assets in a manner unbecoming the daughter of an earl.”
Imogen blinked. She’d first seen Silas at that ball, and she’d been dressed in the demure white gown to irritate Ronan. After that, she’d dressed more provocatively to make a statement. That she wasn’t some naive young woman with stars in her eyes—that he could have no hope in hell of winning someone like her. She sucked in a horrified breath.
Recalling what she’d said earlier, Imogen leaned forward. “Wait, what do you mean by they thinkIencouraged him?”
Aisla looked appalled to explain it, but she steeled herself and finished the explanation in a rush. “I don’t believe this, just so you know, but they are saying that you couldn’t find what you were looking for, so you went to St Giles on your own, seeking loose male company, and that’s how you got yourself abducted.”
Loose male company?Imogen nearly snorted. If they only knew how inexperienced she was, besides what she could not recall with Silas, they would laugh. She acted a good performance. Clearlytoogood of one, if they all believed she was a slattern and wanted to denigrate her for it.
“That’s the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever heard,” she said, her mind racing. She couldn’t fathom how people could be so cruel, so quick to strike down and condemn others, but nothing surprised her anymore. In fact, she’d seen more humanity and compassion among the lower classes thebeau mondeso reviled.
