Page 30 of The Scot Who Loved Her

“I have no doubt.”

Over the next week, Viscount Helvellyn and his hellion of a daughter were always one step ahead of Malcolm. At one point, he thought he’d caught up to them only to find out they’d changed horses and left without remaining for the night. If it weren’t for Caroline’s presence, Malcolm would have ridden ahead, if only to cut them off before their next stop. But alas, he had his sister to take care of—and he was starting to think of Caroline not as a burden but a friend he’d long missed.

A thought that had often crossed his mind as he’d grown up without her was what it would have been like to have his sister by his side. A playmate and friend. Someone to protect.

He didn’t go into detail too much about what had happened in the past—save to tell Caroline about the boar hunt, the bloody tusk, the subsequent upset by his mother and how Gemma had taken off after that, determined to have a daughter who didn’t grow up to be like her barbarian son.

Caroline shook her head and admitted that was about as much as she already knew. He was surprised their mother had told her, but Caroline could be insistent when she wanted to be and had worn Gemma down until she’d gotten tired of avoiding all of her questions.

Malcolm was pretty certain his sister was more like him than their mother liked.

Olivia hardly rememberedtheir Edinburgh house on Charlotte Square.

The last time they’d been in the elite New Town neighborhood, where all of those in both the Scottish and British upperclass society alike lived, had been years ago, and they’d not stayed long. Her father only ever came to Edinburgh when it was absolutely necessary, and most of the time, he left the rest of them at home in London.

The elegant four-story house had a white-washed stone edifice. Above the double-door entrance, the second-floor balcony supported thick, carved columns that reached high above, appearing to hold up the triangular roofline, adding to the opulence and show of riches. A iron fence and gate surrounded the stairs, leading to the front doors. Another set of smaller stairs on the left of the house led down to the servant’s entrance on the ground floor.

Viscount Helvellyn grumbled the entire time he climbed from the carriage and up the steps, barely acknowledging the skeleton staff lined up to greet them. Since he was rarely in the house, her father kept a light crew on hand, one of the reasons they’d brought with them several servants from London, Olivia supposed. It wasn’t the same at their country house near Jedburgh. Since her father hunted there often, he kept a full staff on hand.

“Oh, I must get out of this Scottish weather,” her mother protested as she rushed inside.

Trying to keep a straight face, Olivia looked around, taking note of the blue sky and the light summer breeze. It was, in fact, a gorgeous day. Better than it had been when they’d left London. Her mother could find fault in everything.

Olivia had a dreadful notion that however long they were here in Edinburgh, it would feel like an eternity.

Since the servants had barely gotten word that the viscount and his family would be arriving, they were still in the midst of preparation. Holland covers were coming off the drawing room furniture as they passed, but everything had been set to rights in the bedrooms.

Olivia’s bedroom was papered in robin’s-egg blue silk with creamy rose-colored flowers trimmed in gold. The four-poster bed was a deep cherry wood, and the canopy the same robin’s-egg blue, as well as the coverlet. The rugs, too, were blue, as were the chaise and wingback chairs. There was so much blue that it almost had the effect of drowning. Ironic, considering her parents often made her feel as if she were gasping for air.

“I’ll start unpacking, if that’s all right with you, miss,” Elaine said as a pair of footmen set Olivia’s trunks down.

“Yes, please.”

While Elaine went to work, Olivia stared out the window at Charlotte Square with the elegant ladies meandering about in their stylish clothes, bonnets and parasols. Save for the slightly higher than average number of men wearing kilts, the square could have been in London. Women trying to outdo one another in the latest fashion were walking arm in arm or riding in carriages, chattering away with fresh gossip. Men rode on horseback or sauntered. There was an occasional dog that ran by. All of it was very…civilized. The opposite of what her mother had cautioned her to expect.

Just as Olivia was turning away from the window, a carriage drove past that caught her attention—the crest, a familiar one. And only recognizable because she’d seen it when he and his sister arrived at the ball. Olivia sucked in a breath, her hand coming to her throat.

Dunlyon.

My God, but had he followed them here? She’d not expected that, even with her note. She had truly believed he wouldn’t curtail his sister’s coming out season. Yet, thatwashis crest. Thatwashis carriage.

Olivia pressed her face to the glass, attempting to see where they were headed. But alas, the flatness of the glass obstructed her view when they’d gone past a block. Olivia swallowed hard, trying to find her bearings, but the world was tilting on its axis.

“Elaine…” she hedged. “Would you happen to know if the Earl of Dunlyon has a house in Edinburgh?”

“Yes, he does, miss.”

Olivia’s heart somersaulted at that knowledge. She felt a bit like vomiting. And her breaths were coming so fast that she might even faint. What could it mean that he’d arrived within the same hour?

“Did you send my note?” Perhaps Elaine hadn’t gotten around to it, and this was a grand coincidence.

“Yes, miss.”

So, he’d seen her note and taken her taunting as a challenge. This was…not expected at all. And she felt stupid for having even done it. She’d thought it impossible that he’d follow. After all, that was the reason her parents had brought her here. And now they’d be stuck, for her father would be too stubborn to turn around and head back home after it had taken so long to get here.

Part of her wished that were the case. The Old Tolbooth prison was only a few minutes’ ride from Charlotte’s Square, and so was the asylum. One way or another, she would end up locked away.

A shudder of fear filled her. Maybe now was the time to tell her parents what had happened. Except that also seemed to be a bad idea. She was stuck with no good options.

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