Page 113 of Wicked Highland Heroes

He nodded and looked at Eve. “And you, Eve?”

“I am well, sir.”

“Sit down,” he instructed them.

“You, too, if you will, my dear,” the marquess said to his wife.

The three of them sat on the sofa to the left of the marquess.

“We have been many hours sorting out this mess,” the marquess said. “Tolland and I considered each taking aside our respective offspring and dealing with them separately, but the task is too daunting—not to mention, we will take no chances this time that the three of you might scheme behind our backs.”

“Four of them,” their father said. He pinned his stare on Eve. “Oscar isn’t present, but he is as much a party to the situation as you are. Eve, you kidnapped an earl. You are lucky he and his father didn’t have you thrown into prison.”

“The earl fought a duel,” Eve said. “He is as guilty as me.”

“Indeed, he is.” Her father turned his stare onto Lord Rushton. “The only reason I did not chase after you to Gretna was because I assumed Eve was getting married.”

“Me?” Eve blurted. “Why would you think that?” Then she knew. “My God, you told him to kidnap me.”

“I would have kept that bit of information to myself, if I were you, Tolland,” the earl muttered.

“Oh, this is rich.” Eve couldn’t believe it. “How can you possibly convict me of the very crime for which you are guilty?”

“I can,” her father said in a dark voice that cut off any further retort.

“As can I,” the marquess said. “But as a marriage contract has been signed, it would seem the matter is settled.”

Fear rendered Eve speechless, but Grace spoke up. “What marriage contract?”

“The one I drew up in Manchester, signed by me and the earl.” He nodded to a secretary against the left wall and Eve spied several sheaths of folded paper.

Grace looked from her father to Eve in confusion. “But who is the bride?”

“Grace,” the earl said in a gentle voice, “I did say I was going to marry your sister.”

“But Eve doesn’t want to marry you,” she protested.

“Signed in Manchester?” Eve cut in. “You signed the contract before going to Gretna?”

“No,” her father answered. “He had his solicitor sign for him, then sent it to me, along with the letter he posted from Gretna, which instructed me to meet you on Mull.”

“Miss Crenshaw,” the earl said. He rose, walked to where she sat, then squatted eye-level with her and took her hands in his. “Let us be honest. Things were bad enough when I came into your room at the inn. There might have been a way to redeem ourselves at that point, but once we ended up at Gretna…well, even I knew there was no turning back.”

“You neglected to tell me you had signed a marriage contract,” she said.

“It made little difference at that point. There was going to be a wedding. You cannot doubt that.”

“It is unfair.”

“Yes,” he agreed.

“Not completely unfair,” her father said.

“I’m sure you do not think so,” she snapped. “You are simply relieved to have me married off.”

“Did it occur to you that Lord Rushton made sure the contract was dated and signed for the day before you left for Gretna in order to save your reputation?”

“What possible difference could it make when the contract was signed?”