Malcolm pinched the bridge of his nose.
Viola.
He had to get to Viola.
Had the news already reached her? Was this the final blow that would send her into a critical asthmatic fit?
“Aye,” Hadley agreed, “but it’s not as if Ethan and Miss Brodure were not well on their way tae the altar anyway. This will simply speed up the timeline, as it were, given that the lady’s reputation has been thoroughly damaged. We’re just here tae give Ethan a warning that his clandestine activities have been found out.”
Malcolm only heard Hadley’s words in passing. He had crossed to the parlor door, intent on his hat and horse.
His lovely, brave Viola.
She was going to find herself betrothed to one of the Penn-Leith brothers before the day’s end.
Malcolm intended it to be himself.
He was reaching for the handle when the door flew open and Ethan all but toppled into the room. Struggling into his coat, his younger brother flailed one arm and nearly cold-cocked Malcolm in the process.
Grimacing, Malcolm ducked in time and then helped Ethan pull the sleeve the rest of the way up his arm.
“What has happened?” Ethan’s eyes appeared wild as he straightened his jacket.
Malcolm looked at his brother, remorse churning in his stomach.
He and Viola should have told Ethan a week ago. It was just . . . they had found themselves in the middle of a courtship before even consciously realizing it. Then Ethan was gone away to Aberdeen . . .
And now . . .
. . . now it was far too late.
Something of Malcolm’s dismay must have been written all over his face.
Ethan paled. His gaze darted past Malcolm to Hadley and Sir Rafe. “Has someone died? What is it?”
Sir Rafe and Hadley exchanged a glance, as if silently communicating to one another, determining who would deliver the news.
Hadley broke first, shrugging and turning to smile at Ethan. “Och, it’s not nearly as all bad as that. Just a wee bump in the road tae your happily ever after.”
A frown furrowing his forehead, Ethan cast wary eyes between Hadley’s hearty words and Malcolm’s surely stricken gaze.
“Tell me.”
Keeping his eyes trained on Ethan, Malcolm waited as Hadley and Sir Rafe told his brother what had transpired.
Ethan listened with stoic stillness, his frown deepening with each word.
“Tae be honest, Ethan,” Hadley said, “Mrs. Buchan thought that it was Malcolm here on that first day, as ye were said tae be away to Aberdeen already. But as the ladies were at some distance, they couldn’t tell with any certainty. However, our villagenosy-nebbiesare nothing if not indefatigable. So they did more reconnaissance yesterday—”
“Tae see if this were a regular thing, as it were,” Sir Rafe added.
“Aye,” Hadley agreed, “and there was Ethan, rushing back from Aberdeen, and Miss Brodure on the doorstep tae greet him.”
“So, of course, then they knew it had actually been yourself all along.”
Ethan’s eyes drifted to Malcolm at that, reading the truth there.
The truth Malcolm could no longer hide.
