Page 27 of The Scot Who Loved Her

Olivia’s throat was dry, her chest hot with irritation. “It was his horse.”

“What?” her father thundered, pounding his hand on the table. “Why in blazes did we have his horse?”

Olivia bit her lip, not wanting to give him that information. As it turned out, the poor thing must have been wandering on the moors of their Scottish estate in Jedburgh for some time before Daniel found him. And when they’d come to London, she’d insisted on the horse coming too. Her father hardly paid attention to such things, and so he didn’t notice that she’d brought the Scotsman’s horse in hopes of being able to return it if she ever saw him again. After all, a part of her had believed him when he’d threatened to find her. She’d hoped to use his horse as a bargaining chip. Still hoped it would work.

“Answer your father, dear,” her mother prodded.

“I…I found him.” She didn’t offer up anything more than that.

“You found him?” Her father’s face turned nearly purple, and he gripped the table hard enough to make his knuckles white. “Exactly how does one find a horse? It is not like finding a lost shoe.”

A knock sounded on the breakfast room door, and for a moment, she was given a reprieve as their butler entered and brought with him a bouquet of lilies and roses.

“Pardon the interruption, my lord. These just arrived for Miss Olivia with a card that says ‘Urgent.’”

Olivia reached for the flowers, but her mother quickly snatched them first, tearing open the envelope. She let out a disgusted huff, tossing the paper onto the table, where Olivia caught sight of the words before her father grabbed it.

I’ve found you, and you’re not getting away from me this time.

~Dunlyon

Olivia only had to count to two before her father lost his ever-loving mind.

“Wife, have your daughter’s things packed. We’re going to Edinburgh.”

Olivia’s heart skipped a beat, and not in a good way. No, it felt as though it pounded so hard that it was trying to squeeze through her ribs. Edinburgh was where her sister was, where the asylum was.

“Oh, you bloody fool,” she shouted in her mind to the Earl of Dunlyon. “How could you do this to me?”

His note was clearly him wanting to catch her and toss her into the gaol, but her parents would read it differently. They would see it as an admission of an assignation, of the man laying claim to her. Now she would be locked away forever simply because her father had a grudge against Scots.

“Papa, please,” Olivia said. “It is not what you think.” Perhaps it was time to come clean.

“That would not be the first time we’ve heard you say that,” her mother snapped.

“I’ve had it,” her father continued, and she thought his head might start spinning on his neck. “We’ve tried to give you everything you could want. Well, your season will just have to wait. You will go to Edinburgh, where you’ll be well away from this Scottish rabble.”

In Scotland, she’d be surrounded by Scots. But that didn’t seem to matter to her father. As long as they weren’t Dunlyon, they weren’t a threat for now. He’d send her where he thought she would be farthest from the earl—who seemed to be the target of their irritation. And how appalling that her father would insult a man he didn’t even know. It made zero sense to her, yet she wasn’t surprised either. “He’s not rabble, Papa. He’s an earl.”

“He’s Scottish.”

This was rubbish, all of it!

Olivia was about one second away from pointing out that her father had just as much Scottish blood in him as Dunlyon, but she clamped her mouth shut. He was sending her to Edinburgh and not to the asylum.

But being in Edinburgh meant she’d be closer to her sister and could perhaps sneak a visit. So instead of protesting, she looked at her hands where they rested in her lap, hoping to resemble the demure daughter they wanted. Besides, it wasn’t as if she was enjoying the season anyway. And it would get her away from Dunlyon and his threats.

This was a blessing.

With him being the guardian of his sister, who was having her coming out season, he couldn’t take off after them. And she thought her parents knew that already, which was why they’d planned to put her in the very last place her father wanted her to be—around other Scots.

“Go and change into your traveling clothes. We will leave within the hour,” her mother said.

They must have been planning this since last night—normally, travel plans took much longer than an hour. And indeed, when she returned to her room, Elaine was already packing her things.

Elaine glanced up from the folded tissue paper.

“My, aren’t we a traveling pair lately,” Olivia said, trying to make light of the situation.

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