Page 106 of To Wed an Heiress
Even before she left, Mercy felt the separation. As if Ruthie were already stepping forward into her future, one that didn’t include Mercy.
“You will write me, won’t you?” Mercy asked. “I don’t want to lose touch.”
“I will. I promise.”
After Ruthie left, she didn’t give in to her tears. If she did, there was every possibility that she would keep weeping all the way back to America.
Her father arrived exactly at four. James Gramercy Rutherford was never late.
When she answered the door, the driver tipped his hat to her. No one else stood at the entrance of Duddingston Castle, but that was her doing. She’d asked Irene and the others not to come say goodbye. Her composure was hard won and seeing them all one last time would be too difficult. As far as Lennox, he’d left the castle earlier.
“I imagine he’s gone to Ben Uaine,” Irene had offered. “He goes there to mull things over.”
She entered the carriage while her trunk and valises were being loaded.
Her father nodded in greeting. Mercy didn’t look at him again as she settled into the seat and spent the next few minutes arranging the skirt of her blue-striped silk dress. When that was done, she stared out the far window, anything but look at Duddingston Castle as they pulled away.
The silence was a blessing. She didn’t have anything to say to her father that she hadn’t already said. He hadn’t understood and she doubted that his opinion would change if she continued to try to explain.
No one was as stubborn as James Rutherford. She’d learned that lesson over the course of her life.
“Where is your maid?”
“She’s decided to remain in Scotland,” Mercy said. She didn’t bother telling him that Ruthie had found a man who loved her as much as she loved him.
Some women were blessed in love. Others were cursed.
“Did Gregory really hit you?”
“Yes, he hit me.”
“Such behavior doesn’t sound like him.”
She glanced at him. “Then don’t believe me, Father. He didn’t leave a scar when he struck me. Perhaps you would have believed me if he had.”
He looked stunned by her comment.
“Do you hate me, Mercy?”
“No.”
“Then why say such a thing?”
She looked straight at him. “Why not believe me? Why believe your idea of Gregory more than my words?”
“Have I done such a thing?”
She didn’t say anything in response. Instead, she stared out the window again, wishing she didn’t feel as if she had a gaping wound in her chest, one that was growing larger with each second they traveled away from Duddingston Castle.
“I will explain to Gregory that the engagement is off,” her father said.
She shook her head. “Do you think I haven’t already told him? More than once? I don’t need my father to break my engagement.”
“Then what function do you want me to perform in your life?”
“Love me. Believe in me. Have faith in me. Respect me. Don’t think that you need to dictate my movements, my friends, or whom I am to marry. I have managed to live these past weeks, Father, without being wrapped in bunting and have thoroughly enjoyed it.”
“Most people would want the life you have, Mercy. They would feel enormously privileged.”
