Page 74 of To Wed an Heiress
“I was more concerned with leaving Macrory House than what I was going to wear.” She looked down at herself. “I should have planned better.”
“My shirt won’t be the height of fashion, but at least it’s dry.”
“You’re very kind, Lennox. Thank you.”
He didn’t feel kind right at the moment. He was annoyed, out of sorts, and half wishing she’d never come to Scotland. She was going to hurt him, a realization that struck him like a blow.
“Was he the reason you ran away?”
“No, not the whole reason.”
“What was so terrible about your life that you felt like you had to escape it?”
“Nothing was terrible,” she said. “On the contrary. I was special. I was a princess. People came to our home to outfit me, provide me with jewelry, hats, gloves, anything that a young woman could want. I had my own carriage and two guards who were with me at all times. I was never out of sight of them. I was never allowed to make a friend. She might be a bad influence. Or she might get sick and pass it along to me. All of my books were approved. If I saw a play, it was only after it, too, had passed inspection. I was their one perfect specimen, the child who lived, the one on whose shoulders their future rested. I was a hothouse flower, a perfect rose.”
She glanced at him again. “Gregory was only one part of my life. I was wrong not to realize that he was determined to marry me.” She turned and looked into the fire once more. “My parents were in favor of the marriage. My mother thought he was the perfect husband for their perfect child. I was told that all I was feeling was nerves, that I’d come to realize that marriage to Gregory was . . .” Her words stopped. “Maybe blessed? I think I was supposed to be overjoyed. I was left with the impression that it was for my own good, that they knew what was best for me.”
“Why Scotland?”
She nudged the valise with her foot. “Because of the money. My mother had tried to send it to my grandmother and aunt, but they’d already left North Carolina for Scotland. Mine wasn’t an altruistic gesture as much as a convenient one. Or a foolish one. My grandmother doesn’t want the money. She sees my father as a Yankee and an enemy. She called it blood money.”
“What was the catalyst? What made you leave on that day?”
“That day? It was the last straw, I think. Gregory was going to get rid of Ruthie,” she said. “He didn’t feel that Ruthie was a good enough companion. She giggles and she has all these superstitions and sayings. He announced that once we were married she would be gone.” She glanced at him, then away. “Ruthie’s been my only friend for years. I couldn’t let that happen, so I enlisted the help of my old governess. I was allowed to visit her, and I did, except that Ruthie and I slipped out the back, emerged in the alley behind her house, and hired a coach to take us to the Molly Brown, one of my father’s ships. I’d booked passage through Miss Haversham.”
“You took a number of chances in your bid for freedom, Mercy.”
She nodded. “Not as many as you think. It was my father’s ship and I knew the captain would ensure my safety. I did, however, take the precaution of not identifying myself until we were well out to sea.”
“Yet you’re taking Ruthie back with you.”
“I’m taking her back to New York with me. It’s her home, after all. It’s where her family is.”
“Unless Connor asks her to stay.”
She turned to look at him. “Would he do that?”
“I’m not going to speak for Connor, but it’s my opinion that he feels something for Ruthie.”
She looked away again, staring into the fire.
He wanted to know what she was thinking, one of the few times he’d ever been curious about another person’s thoughts. Mercy wasn’t like anyone he’d ever known. Perhaps that was the fascination she had for him. Or maybe it was simply because she was a beautiful woman and although he was a quasi-hermit, he was still a man.
“Let’s get you to your room,” he said.
He looked down at her shoes, now mere scraps of muddy leather. Going to her side, he grabbed the valise and put it on her lap. Before she could object, he scooped her up in his arms once again.
“The floors are stone, Mercy, and cold. This way you won’t get a chill.”
She looked as if she wanted to say something, then thought better of her words.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, finally giving in to his curiosity.
“I’ve never been carried before, and now you’re doing it again.”
“You’re not that much of a burden,” he said, “especially compared to one of my airships. I’ve hauled those up the side of Ben Uaine.”
She laughed, the sound summoning his smile. He hadn’t heard her laugh before and now he wished he had something amusing to say that would make her laugh again.
