So easy, and yet he was strangely reluctant to play the game.
Why had he kissed Iseabail? He was sure Lady Rebecca was the future he wanted, and yet he couldn’t dismiss the feel of Iseabail’s mouth, the scent of her skin, and the way her stiff body had softened beneath his lips. He remembered the desperation in her kiss, but also the well of passion she possessed, just waiting for the right man to uncover it.
What did Lady Rebecca have to offer against that?
Everything, and yet he couldn’t forget Iseabail.
“That’s one way of looking at it,” Otto declared, “but they claim she’s already married. Have a paper that says it.”
“Have you seen this paper?”
“The witnesses did.”
“As did I,” Reuben said. “A blank piece of paper with random black marks on it. It was a lie.”
The younger watchman spoke up. “They all swore it. And Sammy saw it. He said so. It was legal.”
Fortunately, the countess knew her part in this display. She drew herself upright and spoke in the most imperious manner possible. “I demand to see this paper. If it’s real, then we shall have something to discuss. But Ihighly doubt it.”
There would be no paper because they had already torn it to shreds.
He turned to the young watchman and pitched his voice low. “I regret what I had to do to Sammy,” he said softly. “But the man lied to me, and this innocent girl was going to pay for that error.”
Whether or not Charlie understood marriage law, the man knew who Reuben was. He knew that lying to Mr. Bates demanded punishment, and so his expression shifted from anger to grumpy silence. It was enough to end the problem.
“We’ll look into this paper,” Otto said, his expression troubled. “If it’s real—”
Reuben held up his hands. “Then she’ll go with them because that’s the law.” He shrugged. “But they don’t have a real paper, Otto. I’d swear that to anyone.”
That was enough to satisfy the law, even grumpy Charlie. So after a moment, the two men bowed to the countess and took their leave. One problem solved. Without that paper declaring a marriage, the Scotsmen had no legal way to take Iseabail home.
They would still come at her illegally, of course, and not in the open. Iseabail was right. She was in danger every moment that her uncle was alive.
But that was not his problem. He’d turn all that over to Jonathan and focus on securing his marriage to Lady Rebecca. Meanwhile, the countess touched his arms and spoke sotto voice in his ear.
“Neatly done, Mr. Bates. But I assure you, I can still turn this around to make you the villain.”
He gave the lady his most winning smile. “I am much more helpful to you as the hero.”
“No doubt,” she said dryly. Meanwhile, she looked back at the girls, especially Iseabail. “Good idea to change into appropriate clothing. Can you both endure hours of simpering and claiming Mr. Bates as your hero? Or should you head upstairs with a headache?”
Typically, Miss Allen sniffed. “Like he did everything!”
“He did,” the countess hissed. “No proper young lady fights.”
“Then she’s not a proper Scotswoman,” the lady groused, but she lifted her hand to her heart and batted her eyes at Reuben. “My hero!”
Reuben wanted to laugh. He would have at any normal time, but all he could manage was a vague kind of smile since his attention was centered on Iseabail. She looked pale and her body was tight, as if she held herself together by will alone. That was probably true. She more than any of them knew exactly how much danger she was in.
Meanwhile, the countess had also seen her charge’s distress. “Iseabail?” she pressed. “Perhaps you should go upstairs and rest.”
“I’m safer among people,” she said.
She was safest with him, but he didn’t say that. Instead, he took her arm gently to steer her into the parlor. He remembered at the very last moment to bring Lady Rebecca along as well, and only because she all but tackled him to gain his attention.
That was a mistake on his part. If he intended to reel her into marriage, he needed to play the devoted suitor. And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from glancing anxiously at Iseabail. She was the center of all the attention, now, with everyone asking about her wretched uncle and her very intriguing dowry. She handled it like the queen she was. She remained outwardly serene, though he could see signs of distress in the way she kept touching her necklace.
It must be a kind of talisman for her. A way to remember her mother, perhaps, but also a habit developed young as a subtle threat to any superstitious Scots. Bother her and she might put a spell upon you. And if it worked to keep her safe—at least throughout her childhood—then who was he to decry it?
