Page 27 of The Seduction of Viscount Vice

“But he doesn’t want me,” she whispered painfully. “He said goodbye.”

“Of course he wants you,” said Ramsey. “That is why he is so angry. Because he thinks you have played him false twice over, that you don’t love him the way he loves you. He’s never known the why about Scotland, my lady. And it is long past time you told him.”

Olivier burst into applause. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. The highest compliment I can give.”

Mairi blinked. “I think that may have been the longest speech you’ve ever given, Ramsey.”

“Well, don’t just stand there like a featherbrained twit,” her manservant growled, his eyes suspiciously bright. “Go and fight. Drag him back to your lair like a proper Highland lass.”

Tears burned her own eyes. “He…he told me I was a warrior.”

“And he is right. So show him. Show him that you love him,” sniffled Olivier.

She swallowed hard. To do that, she would have to both fight and surrender. Could she do it? Could she swallow her pride, the only thing she still possessed, and lay all her mistakes and regrets and secrets at Iain’s feet? Offer her whole heart, raw and unsure and yearning, and humbly ask him to love her again?

It would take every bit of courage she had. But there was only one answer.

Yes.

“All right, all right!” She hiccupped on a sob. “And I love you both. You are the most wonderful friends.”

Leaving her mop behind, Mairi dashed for the door. Then halted and instead made her way upstairs to her chamber to change. Never would a Highland warrior present for battle in a shabby gown and apron. Swiftly she tore off her clothing, then unlocked her small trunk of keepsakes. She selected a ruffled white muslin shirt with lace cuffs and her best hunter green spencer, like the top half of a riding habit, and tugged them on. Instead of a skirt and petticoat, she finished the outfit with a pair of old-fashioned black breeches. Her hair she pulled loose from its serviceable chignon and brushed to a silken shine, until the curls flowed down her back like the night of her dinner at Fallen.

Mairi stared hard at the looking glass. Someone she thought she could quite like smiled hesitantly back. And winked.

Perfect.

Almost breathless, she hurried back downstairs and along the hallway toward the front door.

“And just where do you think you are going, dressed like that?”

Mairi inclined her head. “Good morning, Yvette. I am going out, of course.”

“I think not. There are many chores to be done before we reopen tonight.”

“My apologies,” she said slowly, “but I am not available. Perhaps you should not have fired all those maids.”

“Not available?” Yvette’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You do not say that word to me. After everything I have done for you, I own you. I decide when you eat and sleep and work. And you must work.”

“I don’t think so. Actually, I think my debt to you is more than repaid after ten years of hard labor. And your opening night was successful. Well, apart from the entertainment.”

Yvette released her breath in a hiss. “I was excellent.”

“That is not what the reviews said. Perhaps the reason Worldly failed in Paris was not the others, but you. You are so damned lazy and selfish. Using everyone you meet. Well, I have had enough. It ends today.”

Her employer’s smile was pure malice. “He does not love you, this Vice you think to run to. How could he? A man like that wants a real woman. A lady. Not a plain and dried-up stick. Not a filthy seamstress.”

In the past, the words would have struck like arrows. But strangely, they drifted over her as harmlessly as snowflakes. “Men have varied tastes, as do women. But when you love someone, one thing does not decide yes or no. It is everything together. I didn’t understand that before.”

“Nonsense.” Yvette scowled as she stomped her foot. “All nonsense. Now you get back into the parlor. Must Ramsey and Olivier always make up for you? Must they? You are a disgrace. A freakish whore from a dirty Scottish village…don’t you dare turn your back on me! Mairi!”

“Au revoir, madame,” said Mairi over her shoulder.

“You go one step farther and you may never come back. Ever!” Yvette spat.

Mairi shrugged. “Very well. I guess I have no other option than to choose love.”

And she walked out into Charlotte Street to search for a hackney.