Page 53 of Brigand

The gong sounded and Violet sighed again. She would make itthrough this meal. She would put food in her mouth when she was supposed to andsmile when she should. She would make efforts at conversation. And when it wasover, she could return to her room and crawl into her bed and wallow there.

The boys were assembled in the drawing room, chattering awayand engaged in a variety of pursuits that would once have made her laugh. Theygreeted her with a series of calls. She nodded to them and then to Edward,because he was there as well. Oh. And Hortense.

She tried not to notice her aunt’s sharp perusal.

“Shall we go in?” Edward asked, taking Hortense’s arm.

“Isn’t Kaitlin joining us?” Hortense asked. The duke and hisnew bride had been inseparable since the wedding.

Edward grinned. “She’s not feeling well.”

Hortense snorted. “And that pleases you?” Edward nibbled onhis grin and didn’t respond, which made Hortense’s rheumy eyes widen, her chinsquiver. She patted his hand. “Good show.” She waved her cane and warbled in astrident tone, “Come along, lads. I’m starving.”

They took their seats around the table and the footmen beganserving the soup. Violet tried to eat it but couldn’t get much down. It tastedoff. As did the next course. And the next. She did find an appetite for thepickled plums, served as a counterpoint to the beef, and scooped them all ontoher plate, much to Malcolm’s chagrin.

To the conversation flowing around her, she paid no mind.Not until she heard the word McCloud. Her heart stalled and then began topound. Her chin snapped up. She found her gaze snared in Edward’s and shedidn’t care for the emotion she saw there. It was too close to pity for herliking.

“Hard to believe,” Ned was saying, a sneer on his handsome face,“that a man could have such gall.” Violet glared at her brother but he didn’tnotice. “You should have had him hanged, Edward. Really. You should have.”

The blood in her veins chilled.

“Or transported him,” Malcolm chimed in.

Edward set down his fork and took a sip of wine. “They don’tdo that anymore.”

“You could have done it,” Tay offered. “You could doanything.”

“Surely not anything,” Edward said with a smile.

“What happens to a man to make him into a brute like that?”Ned asked.

Malcolm nodded. “Surely he wasn’t born such an ogre.”

“He’s not an ogre.” Violet didn’t know from where she foundher voice, or how it came to ring so clearly. But she couldn’t stay silent.Eight heads snapped up. Eight pairs of nearly identical eyes fixed on her,gaping as though she had sprouted horns and a tail.

“Violet! He kidnapped you!”

She put out a lip. “He did not. Callum MacAllister kidnappedme.”

“That’s true,” Hortense waved her spoon. “I was there.”

Ned ignored this pertinent fact. “But he held you prisoner.”

“Beat you.”

“Tortured you.” Oh dear. But then, Hamish was themelodramatic one.

“He did not beat me. He most certainly did not torture me.He was… He was… Oh bother!” Tears welled, despite her attempts to hold themback. “You don’t know anything.”

“Then tell us, Violet.” This from Edward, a calm, kindrequest. He hadn’t asked for any details of her ordeal and she hadn’t offered.She had told them nothing. Clearly that had been unwise. They’d jumped toconclusions—and the wrong ones.

“Tell us what that swine did to you!” Hamish again. His eyesgleamed. He leaned forward in anticipation, the bloodthirsty fiend.

“I’ll tell you what we did to him.” Her voice was a lowthrum, clogged with emotion. “Do you know who he was?” She turned to Ned,brandishing a plum on the tines of her fork. “Did you even recognize him?”

“R-recognize him?” he sputtered. “Why would I recognizehim?”

“Because when he was young, he lived at Browning.”