Page 33 of The Scottish Duke
“I told him that if he wanted the church roof replaced, he’d be better off finding another sinner to expose.”
Her eyes widened. “You would do that?”
“Yes, I would do that.”
He grabbed her arm, but she shook it off.
“I’m not going with you,” she said in a low voice. “Don’t you understand? That’s the worst thing I could do. I can just imagine what Mrs.MacDonald would say.”
“Who?”
“My landlady.”
“I don’t care about Mrs.MacDonald,” he said. “But you’re not safe here.”
“I would have been fine but for you.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“If you hadn’t come here,” she said, “no one would have known. I was getting by.”
“You’re living in a hovel.”
“I was getting by,” she said.
He ignored her. “Don’t you have a warmer coat? You’re nearly blue with cold. Your cloak is too thin and your gloves are inadequate.”
“Fashion criticism from a duke?” She frowned at him. “I don’t care what you think about my attire, Your Grace.”
“You’re coming with me. If you wish to make a scene, that’s fine. I don’t care. You’re still coming with me.”
“No one’s going to hurt me. I’m perfectly safe here.”
He lowered his head almost as if he were going to kiss her. “Look around you, Lorna.”
She glanced at the reverend, who was standing there scowling at both of them, then at the crowd milling closer. Nan’s words came back to her.Mothers will cross the street rather than allow you near their children. Men will leer at you. You’ll be the face of sin.
She had never expected to see the condemnation on the faces of some of the sweet ladies who’d purchased balms from her, or the men who’d been so gracious when she first arrived.
“If you’ll escort me back to my room, then,” she said.
“Only to get your things.”
Did he think she had somewhere to go? She wasn’t like him, with homes in half a dozen cities.
He pushed through the crowd, still holding onto her hand. To her surprise, the villagers parted, but they didn’t do so silently. She had never heard some of the words shouted at her, but she was well aware of others.
She was not a whore and she wanted to plant her feet right there and defend herself. The duke was having none of it.
She nodded to the duke’s driver, a man she knew from Blackhall. Charles was a burly figure with a pockmarked face and a nose that had been pummeled a time or two. His hair was a mixture of black and gray, like her father’s had been. Charles was known as a peacemaker among the staff. If there was a disagreement, people let him mediate it. If an actual fight occurred, someone always summoned him to break it up.
She suddenly noticed the distance from the ground to the vehicle.
“How am I supposed to get up there?” she asked.
In the first six months her stomach was only a small bump. Since then she’d ballooned up until she was having difficulties seeing her feet. Putting on her shoes was a challenge each morning.
“There are steps,” he said, bending down to unfurl them. “If you’ll allow me to assist you?”
