Page 15 of The Highlander's English Bride

When the bracket clock on the mantel chimed out the hour, Sabrina grimaced.

“I wish Mr. Kendrick the best, and I’m grateful to him,” she said. “But I simply must be on my way. If you would let me borrow your carriage, I would be desperately grateful.”

Vivien rose. “Of course. But won’t you tell me who you were meeting in the park?” She pointed a finger. “I do think you owe me.”

“Blackmail, in other words,” Sabrina wryly replied as she crossed to the bed to begin dressing.

Her friend’s gaze sparkled with mischief. “I’m quite good at that sort of thing.”

“I suppose it doesn’t matter, since the wretch never showed up. It was the Marquess of Cringlewood.”

Chapter Three

Aden St. George reached for a decanter tucked into the inset bookshelves of his study and poured a splash of brandy into a glass. “It’s barely nine in the morning, Graeme, but I think you need this.”

“Since I’ve been up all night, let’s call it a last drink before I get to bed.”

Graeme had learned to appreciate a good brandy almost as much as a good Highland whisky, like the one he’d brewed in his illegal still on Kendrick land. He and his twin had caught holy hell for that adventure once Nick had discovered their secret.

As he propped his booted feet against a cast-iron firedog, Graeme relished the fact that he was once more warm and dry. While he had a set of rooms at Albany House, he maintained a spare bedroom here at Aden’s that was stocked with clothing for emergencies, which now included dragging damsels out of the Serpentine.

Aden settled into the other club chair and poured a cup of coffee from the breakfast service on the table between them.

Nothing in the generous spread tempted Graeme. He hadn’t much of an appetite these days. Meals often consisted of a pasty from a stall in Covent Garden or a hastily bolted plate of beef and a pint of heavy wet in a tavern before heading back out on the thieves’ elusive tails. This morning had been the closest he’d ever gotten to the bastards.

“Thank you for not raking me over the coals,” he said.

“I’m reserving that right,” his chief replied with a wry smile. “Although there wasn’t much you could do, given the circumstances.”

“Silly chit,” Graeme muttered into his glass.

“On the contrary. Lady Sabrina is an extremely sensible young woman.”

“Lurking about Hyde Park at dawn, in the rain, is an extremely sensible activity for young ladies?”

“It’s odd, I admit.”

“She was meeting a bloke. That was clear enough.”

“Suitors have been lining up for years to woo her. Lady Sabrina has no need to lurk in parks.”

Graeme ignored the irritated twinge in his gut. “She’s no deb just out on the marriage mart, obviously.”

Aden put down his cup. “Sabrina has been running her father’s household for years. Lord Musgrave is quite dependent on her, and he leaves the ordering of his domestic affairs in her capable hands. Given how much freedom and wealth she has, I suppose there’s not much incentive to marry.”

“Why tie yourself down to some rakehell who will likely ignore you, while spending every last shilling of your fortune on gambling, horses, or mistresses.”

Aden flashed a sardonic smile. “Says the former rakehell.”

“With the emphasis onformer.Can’t say as I blame the lass for wanting to avoid the marital state. If she’s wealthy, what does she have to gain by marrying some toff who’ll have the controlling of her?”

“I suspect that no one controls Lady Sabrina.”

“I suspect you’re right. She actually had the nerve to reprimand me for rescuing her.”

Aden laughed. “That sounds just like her. But the point remains—what was she doing meeting someone in the park at that hour of the morning?”

“Maybe she’s changed her mind about marriage,” Graeme said. “Women do tend to be fickle in that regard.”

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