“May I ask if you’re quite recovered, my lady?” he asked, the question blurred behind the linen. Speed peered out from behind the protective bulk of his companion.
“Recovered?” she asked.
“Countess Charlotte informed us some weeks past that you had fallen ill, and had retired to the country to recover your health,” Speed replied.
“We thought she meant Somerson’s country estate, not another country entirely!” Mandeville added.
“There was some speculation as to the nature of your illness,” Speed said. “We were given cause to believe it was the plague. Is it plague, my lady?”
Somerson had explained her disappearance by telling them she had the plague? She almost laughed, but Speed looked mournful. “It has been some weeks since we’ve had any news of your condition. We assumed you were—” Mandeville elbowed him hard enough to knock him back into the chair he’d so recently risen from.
“Wefearedyou were lost to us forever, shall we say?” Mandeville said, lowering his handkerchief an inch.
“Yes, wefearedyou were dead, especially when Lady Lottie canceled her wedding so suddenly,” Speed said, getting back on his feet.
“As you can see I am far from dead, gentlemen,” Caroline said.
“Indeed—we are indeed joyful that the Scottish air, damp and unwholesome though it is, has been kind to you,” Mandeville finished, but he didn’t venture any closer to her, or put away his handkerchief.
She took a step toward them, and they retreated. “Still, I am afraid your journey has been in vain—”
Speed put a hand to his heart. “The wedding has already taken place? We are but a day behind!”
“I assure you I have not—” Caroline began, but Mandeville reached for his sword.
“Where is the blackguard Glenlorne? I swear I shall make Lady Sophie a widow, and wed her then.”
“Sophie?” Caroline cried. “You’ve come to marrySophie?”
“I know she must be here,” Speed said. “We saw Lord Bray’s coach come this way. I’d know his matched cattle anywhere! Finest in London!”
“Scotland,” Mandeville reminded him.
“Anywhere!” Speed replied, raising his finger in the air for emphasis. The loose skin under his chin wobbled like a rooster’s wattle.
“Where is the fair Lady Sophie? I swear I can smell her perfume in this very room—that is, I’m certain I would be able smell it if Iknewher perfume!”
“You’re here to marry Sophie?” Caroline asked again, baffled. “Lady Sophie Ellison?”
Speed drew himself up. “Forgive me, my lady. I do understand your dismay, but we must withdraw our offer for your hand. I am the last of my line—I cannot take a chance on a bride who has had the plague so very recently, even if you appear recovered. You may turn out to be a poor breeder.” He sighed, and put a bony hand over his heart. “Lady Sophie was in the bloom of health last I saw her.”
Mandeville looked at his friend fiercely. “I will marry Lady Sophie if it is the last thing I do!” Speed glared back.
“Then I am not ...” Caroline paused. She smiled. “You are not here to—?”
“Good afternoon, gentlemen.” Alec descended the stairs behind her.
“Why it’s Alec MacNabb!” Mandeville said, grinning. “How odd to find you here as well. I had no idea you’d left London. Tell me you are not in pursuit of the Lady Sophie as well—we fear that the black lord of this castle has married her already!”
Alec raised one eyebrow and looked at Caroline, but she was as baffled as he was.
Speed picked up his sword and brandished it. “I swear I shall run this impudent Scottish earl through and claim the lady back for England!” the viscount said. “Where is Glenlorne? Simply point out his direction!” Mandeville picked up his sword as well.
Alec opened his mouth, but Caroline pointed away from Alec, out the window, over the hills. “That way. At the, um, Glenlyon Inn. It’s only a dozen miles away.”
“The Glenlyon?” Speed said, swinging his gaze to the horizon.
Alec was silent, watching her with amusement.
