Page 29 of Scandalous: Family Ties and Spies

Sharp, urgent raps on the salon door interrupted her, and Amalie froze. Dear God, this couldn’t be happening. When the Mistress of Crianlarich quietly invited the individual into the salon, Amalie relaxed slightly at the sight of her Aunt Constance. As she met the warm, sympathetic gaze of the Countess of Lyndham, Amalie thought she might have received a reprieve at the last moment.

Perhaps Valeran wouldn’t offer for her this morning, after all. Taking several steps forward, she caught her aunt’s outstretched hands in hers and silently pleaded with the countess to tell her what Amalie wanted to hear. A knowing expression settled on her aunt’s face as she shook her head with regret, then kissed her cheek before moving to her sister’s side.

Whatever Lady Lyndham whispered into Patience MacTavish’s ear made the Mistress of Crianlarich nod then stretched out her hand to her husband. Amalie watched in bewilderment as her father listened in silence to whatever his wife was telling him. The Crianlarich frowned darkly as he looked down at his wife.

Displeasure made her father’s features harsh, and he released a low, thunderous sound of anger. The tall Scotsman muttered something to her mother, and in response, Lady Patience’s mouth thinned into a stubborn line. She eyed her husband with impatience before her features softened. One hand pressed into the Crianlarich’s chest, her mother cupped her husband’s cheek in a tender gesture of reassurance.

“Trust me, Julian.”

Even though her mother’s words were almost inaudible, Amalie was certain she’d heard correctly. After a brief pause, her father released another low noise of objection, then looked at both women for a moment before jerking his head sharply at them. A second later, Lady Lyndham hurried out of the room, pausing briefly to squeeze Amalie’s hand.

One glance at her mother, and Amalie’s heart sank as she recognized the Rockwood determination on Lady Patience’s features. Her father’s expression was more grim than resolute as he met her gaze and cleared his throat.

“Lord Sommerville is in the hall, and has asked tae see ye.” Her father’s words made her flinch, and she shook her head vehemently.

“Please, Father, please dinnae make me do this. I dinnae want to marry him. I dinnae want to marry anyone,” she beseeched the Scotsman in a hoarse voice. Her plea only seemed to strengthen the resolve on her parents' faces.

“Amalie, you need to be reasonable. If you don’t marry Lord Sommerville, there won’t be a house in London open to you,” her mother said with gentle firmness.

“Are ye saying the family would nae welcome me into their homes?” Amalie demanded fiercely, now in a state of blind panic.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Lady Patience said quietly as she eyed her with disappointment.

“The damage tae your reputation is irreparable, lass.”

“If ye take me home with ye to Crianlarich, people will forget about me the moment another scandal arises.”

“Oh, Amalie, you know that’s not true,” her mother said softly. “People don’t forget something like this.”

“Your mother’s correct, lass, the damage is done. Hiding at Crianlarich is the cowardly path tae take,” Julian MacTavish said as he stretched out his hand to touch his wife’s shoulder. “Ye are a Rockwood, and I know from experience that the Rockwoods are nae cowards.”

“Amalie, you must consider Val’s reputation as well. If he doesn’t marry you, everyone will believe he refused to act honorably.” Lady Patience’s voice was gentle, but her mother’s tenacious look told Amalie she was trapped.

“Ye will speak with the mon, Amalie, and ye will accept his offer.” Her father raised his hand as she opened her mouth to plead for mercy once more. “Ye will nae be of age for almost a year, and ye will do as we say in this matter.”

Sorrow laced her father’s voice, but it didn’t hide the fact that it was a command to be obeyed. His words became weights around her neck as she stared helplessly at the Laird and Mistress of Crianlarich. The scar tissue on her mother’s face was taut with tension, and Amalie saw regret darkening her father’s dark brown eyes.

When she didn’t reply, the Crianlarich’s eyes narrowed. He might not be happy in forcing her hand, but he clearly had no intention of relenting to her pleas. Amalie’s gaze fell on the burnt flesh of her mother’s face, and her stomach lurched in the face of such courage and sacrifice.

The fire that had taken her real father from her had almost claimed the woman who’d become her mother. Lady Patience had almost died saving her, her siblings, and her cousins the night of the fire. Her father was right. The Rockwoods weren’t cowards, and her mother’s scars were a harsh reminder of the fact. Instantly, her shoulders sagged as she remembered the vision she’d had on the cnoc beag when Valeran had pulled her into his arms. She’d not realized it until just now, but the memory of the an dara sealladh showing her holding the Sommerville crest in her hands had clearly represented her marrying the earl. Beaten, she nodded her compliance.

“I will accept Lord Sommerville’s proposal,” she whispered.

Clearly relieved, the quiet sighs of her parents drifted through the air. Tension pulled her body taut. The couple’s relief simply emphasized she was pinned into a corner with no place to go. Lady Patience closed the distance between them to pull her into a warm embrace and hold her close for a moment.

“It will be all right, mo nighean luachmhor.” The soft Gaelic echoed softly in Amalie’s ear. If she was as precious a daughter as her mother had just said, why was she forcing her to marry Valeran? Amalie averted her gaze as Lady Patience raised her hands to cup Amalie’s cheeks. “Lord Sommerville is a decent man. I’m sure that in time you will both find happiness.”

“It won’t be the kind of happiness you and father have.” At her flat, emotionless words, Amalie’s mother winced.

“Perhaps not, but I am certain he’ll be good to you.”

Amalie didn’t reply, and in her next breath, a tingling sensation lightly touched the back of her neck, and she knew Valeran had entered the room.

“Crianlarich. Lady Patience.” His greeting was stilted, and trepidation skimmed down her back.

“Sommerville.”

The Laird of Crianlarich’s icy, one word greeting emphasized her father’s rage and an unspoken threat of retribution if Valeran did anything her father found objectionable.