Page 92 of In Search of a Husband
“This is Miss Elspeth MacInnes,” Kate said, turning as Elsie strode up, her face stern.
“I’ve heard much about ye,” Elsie said, crossing her arms. “Please, let me help ye all into the carriage. Then I’ll join ye at the castle and help everyone settle in. I imagine it was a long journey.”
She glared at Gabriel, striding by to hook her arm through Kate’s arm. “It’s lovely to meet ye, Sir Martin and Lady Bancroft. Yer daughter?—”
“My daughter!” Lady Bancroft interrupted. “I was told you were placed in a respectable household as a governess.”
“So she has,” Gabriel interrupted.
“I suggest we discuss this outside.”
“Or perhaps in the carriage,” the marquess piped in, nodding his head in acknowledgment of Gabriel.
He hated London. Despised it and the hollow etiquette of society. And though he somehow managed the strength not to wipe the floor with the marquess, he couldn’t bring himself to look at Kate. It felt as if, with that one hitched breath, their time together was finished. She was slipping back toward London, and she was only a few feet away.
Elsie expertly ushered everyone out, the only one not stunned it seemed by the surprise visit.
“Steady on, Brother,” she whispered, reaching out and grabbing his hand.
He shook it off, standing by the carriage as the marquess handed Lady Bancroft inside.
Kate glanced back quickly as her father guided her forward and mouthed “sorry” before she turned to her father. “Why are you here?”
“We can discuss this in private. This is a family matter.”
“Why is the marquess with you?”
Her mother poked her head out of the carriage. “Not here, Katherine. Not in front of them.”
Today had nearly been the perfect day. And suddenly it was as if he were seven and eating dinner, jesting with his father, before his father crumbled and fell to the floor.
“I will see that she is looked after,” Elsie whispered.
He nodded, swallowing down the knot in his throat. Rage exploded within him as the marquess boldly grabbed her hand and assisted her in the carriage.
The same hands that ruined her. The same hands that left her life in tatters without once offering aid.
Those hands.
Hands Gabriel wished to twist and break like a jealous beastie because that is what love had reduced him to.
“Miss MacInnes, is it?” Sir Martin asked.
“Aye, it is, sir.”
“Will you please escort us?”
“My pleasure.” She darted a glance to Gabriel before climbing into the carriage to sit beside Kate.
“I will be along shortly.” Gabriel flashed a quick smile, but it didn’tstick. Instead, he watched the carriage leave for Dunsmuir and disappear into the darkness.
He had sought her out on the dance floor to ask for her hand. He had been in good spirits, and the Harvest Festival had gone well. Maybe it was the whisky he had indulged in, but he thought he would finish the night with Kate in his bed, with her as his bride-to-be.
And instead, she was riding off with the rake who ruined her.
As the carriage slipped out of sight, the ground finally gave way beneath his feet and slid down the front of the inn, swallowing down a silent scream.
He grabbed a cigar from his pocket and lit it, resting his head against the stone to stare up the stars.
