Page 50 of To Wed an Heiress
Her grandmother had never sounded so crude in the past.
Mercy had come into the room determined not to say a word about what had happened this morning. She’d known, because of their antipathy toward Lennox, that they wouldn’t understand. They didn’t disappoint. The only person who hadn’t said anything to her was Aunt Elizabeth. Nor did she say anything supportive.
“There was an accident,” she said. “Rather than walk home soaking wet I dried myself off at Duddingston Castle. Irene was very kind.”
There, the kernel of the truth if not the exact telling of it.
All four of her relatives looked as if they were trying to decide whether or not to believe her.
“And the carriage?” Douglas asked. “Was that Irene’s doing? Or did Lennox summon his carriage for you?”
It hit her then.
“Are you worried that history will repeat itself? A Macrory woman and a Caitheart man?”
Uncle Douglas didn’t answer, but he didn’t meet her eyes, either. Her grandmother had no such difficulty. That unblinking gaze would have been disconcerting if she hadn’t had practice meeting it.
“Your blood is diluted,” Ailsa said. “You’re hardly a true Macrory.”
Diluted because of her father, of course, a wealthy Yankee who had the temerity to offer her compassion.
Mercy didn’t respond. From past experience, the best way to behave would be to say something conciliatory, admit her flaws, beg for forgiveness, or otherwise grovel.
She didn’t feel like groveling at the moment.
Flora looked mildly disappointed and Mercy couldn’t tell if it was because she hadn’t been verbally whipped or confessed to something salacious.
Aunt Elizabeth was watching her, her aunt’s gaze as direct as Ailsa’s.
“If you don’t mind,” Mercy said, taking a step back, “I’d like to go to my room now.”
“I think that would be best,” Ailsa said.
“And I think you should remain inside Macrory House until such time as you return to America,” Douglas added.
Her grandmother nodded. “Since you’ve proved to have little common sense or decorum, Hortense, that sounds like an excellent idea.”
No one said a word as she turned and left the room.
It was entirely possible that her grandmother would discover the truth about her adventures of this morning and that she’d been alone with two men while in a state of undress.
Ruthie might not get a chance to recuperate. They might be banished back to America any moment now.
She’d never disobeyed at home, being a dutiful daughter so as not to cause her parents more grief. Coming to Scotland had changed her. Maybe it was because she’d made a bid for freedom. Or because she’d made a choice not to accept the life doled out to her. For whatever reason, she wasn’t the same person she’d been even a short time ago.
She reached her room to find Ruthie sitting there.
“What am I going to do with you? You should be in your room resting, Ruthie.”
“Will we really be going home when my arm heals, Miss Mercy?”
She had a feeling that Ruthie wasn’t homesick as much as dreading the day they would leave Scotland.
“Yes,” Mercy said. “We weren’t meant to stay here long.”
Perhaps she should tell Ruthie that she was feeling a similar reluctance, but it wouldn’t help for both of them to be foolish.
Ruthie nodded. “Let’s get you out of that dress, Miss Mercy. That corset and shift must be uncomfortable.”
