“Somerset. Hyacinth Somerset. I’m Lady Huntington’s sister.”
“Lady Huntington’s sister!” Ciaran Ramsey let out a peal of laughter. “Good Lord. That’s cursed bad luck, that is.”
Miss Ramsey took Hyacinth’s hand. “How do you do? Oh, dear. Your fingers are so cold, Miss Somerset. Perhaps you’d better lie down again.”
“No, I…no. You’re very kind, but I’m quite all right now, thank you.”
“No, you’re not, child.” Lady Chase struggled to her feet. “You seem a nice enough young lady, Miss Ramsey, but these brothers of yours.” She pointed her cane first at Ciaran, and then at Lachlan Ramsey. “Beatings and murders, and blood and whiskey—scoundrels, the both of them. I’m taking my granddaughter home. She’s had a terrible fright tonight, and she suffers from delicate nerves—”
“Wait, Lady Chase.”
Finn hadn’t moved or spoken since Miss Ramsey came into the room, but now he came forward, and Hyacinth was shocked to see his face had drained of color. He pointed at Isla Ramsay. “Who are you?”
Iris frowned, and laid a hand on her husband’s arm. “Are you quite all right, Finn? They’ve just told us who they are—”
“No.” Finn shook his head, but his gaze never left Isla Ramsey’s face. “Who are you?”
Iris, Violet, Nick and Lady Chase exchanged puzzled glances, but Hyacinth was watching Lachlan Ramsey. A chill shot through her when she noticed he didn’t look at all confused. Indeed, all three of the Ramseys seemed to know exactly what Finn was asking.
Iris, who was truly alarmed now, tugged at Finn’s sleeve. “They’re the Ramseys, just come to London from…from…where did you say you came from?”
“Scotland.” Finn’s voice was hoarse. “They came from Scotland.”
* * * *
Lachlan had seen this moment unfold over and over again in his mind. Ever since he’d learned the truth about his birth, he’d agonized over how best to break what was sure to be unwelcome news to the Marquess of Huntington.
The scene had played out any number of ways, but not once had Lachlan imagined he’d have to defend himself against a murder charge moments before he was introduced to his long-lost brother.
Ciaran was right. He’d made a mess of this.
No, I didn’t. Hyacinth Somerset did.
He shot her a resentful look. She noticed, and her face paled as if he were a wild beast about to lunge for her throat.
Timid thing. Excitable, too. Possibly mad.
Hyacinth Somerset might look like an angel, but celestial beings were useless enough, and beautiful women were always more trouble than they were worth. He should have known she’d prove difficult as soon as he saw her face.
It was too late now. The damage was done. Scotland, and now England…
Everywhere they turned they found only wreckage, and now they’d run out of places to go.
“This young lady, she…”
Lachlan raised his head to see Lord Huntington had ventured a step closer to Isla. He studied her face, his gaze lingering on each of her features. “She looks just like my mother.”
“Your mother?” Lady Huntington paled, and reached down to grip her husband’s hand. “But that’s…so strange. You don’t remember what she looked like, do you?”
“Not much, no. I only recall the outlines of her face, but my father commissioned a portrait of her several years before she ran away, and her resemblance to this young lady, the dark hair, the shape of her face, the eyes and mouth…” Lord Huntington shook his head, stunned. “She could be my mother’s daughter. My God. Who are you?”
Isla was a brave little thing, but even she was faltering under Lord Huntington’s intense stare. “Lord Huntington, I—”
“It’s all right, Isla. Go sit down.” Lachlan gave her a gentle push in the direction of the settee, and this time she didn’t argue, but crossed the room and sank down onto it.
Lachlan drew a deep breath, and faced Lord Huntington. For good or ill, this was it. They’d come all the way from Scotland for this moment. “Isla is your half-sister, my lord, and Ciaran your half-brother. The four of us share a mother.”
“Half-brother and sister?” Lord Huntington drew his wife to his side, and held her tightly against him. He was shaking his head, but he seemed to be trying to make sense of Lachlan’s words rather than denying them. “I’d heard rumors, of course…whispers about siblings in Scotland, but I never truly believed it.” He turned to Lachlan. “If this is your brother and sister, then aren’t you my half-brother, too?”
