Page 84 of The Devil of Clan Sinclair
The room still smelled of death. Flower arrangements placed there for Eudora hadn’t been removed and sat on the mantel and side tables, dropping their petals over the floor.
Dearest Eudora. How empty the house was without her presence.
The sun heated the room, showing the streaks left on the windows by careless maids. Enid wouldn’t have tolerated such slovenliness in normal times.
Virginia eased into the chair beside Ellice in a spot usually occupied by her mother-in-law. For a moment they sat in silence, the ticking of the mantel clock the only sound.
“You’re really leaving?” Ellice asked.
“I wouldn’t go, but it’s Elliot,” she said, reaching out and placing her hand atop her sister-in-law’s.
Ellice nodded. “I understand.”
She met Ellice’s eyes. So much was left unsaid, most of it centering around Enid. She’d yet to come out of her room.
“I’m sure it will be fine,” Ellice said. “I’ll see to Mother. And everyone is recuperating. We’ve no other cases.”
She put her cup on the table in front of her and studied Virginia.
“Why did Mr. Sinclair take Elliot? I don’t understand.”
She almost told Ellice the truth, then decided she’d already burdened the girl enough.
“I don’t know, but I’m going to bring him home.”
Ellice didn’t respond, but her lips were pursed and a frown marred her lovely features.
“I don’t anticipate the journey to be a long one,” Virginia said. She handed Ellice a sheet of correspondence on which she’d written Macrath’s address. In case anything else happened, Ellice needed to know where she’d gone.
Please God, don’t let anything else happen.
She was going to leave him. She was going back to the bastard who’d impregnated her, the Scot who’d taken her child.
Her pallor worried him. So, too, her slow steps to the stable door. A journey to Scotland would tax her strength.
He couldn’t allow it. He had to keep her here.
Paul followed her, waiting until her maid went around to the other side of the carriage. Virginia placed a hand against the vehicle to steady herself.
That’s when he knew he had to do anything to stop her, even to telling her the truth if needed.
“I don’t want you to leave,” he said.
She glanced at him, her eyes widening.
His nose was broken; both eyes blackened and a purple and greenish bruise covering the right side of his face. His bottom lip was cut, his jawline swollen, and he held one hand against his side. He’d suspected a few ribs were cracked when a footman bandaged him.
Let her look her fill. This is what her lover had done, the same man who stole her child.
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “There’s no need to worry about me. I would care for yourself.”
When she opened the carriage door, he reached out and slammed it shut.
“You’re not going to Scotland.”
She stepped away. “Who are you to dictate my movements?”
If she knew the truth, it would change everything. She’d realize, finally, how he felt about her.
