“Who you refuse to marry.”
“That isn’t out of pride,” her aunt admonished with a wave. “That is pure fear.”
“What do you fear?”
“Being dependent on someone and having it fail. Loving someone is always a risk.”
“I’m ready for a risk.”
“Is your Lord Rossbury?”
What they felt for each other was real. Of that, she had not a single doubt. Perhaps he felt the fear Aunt Cassandra spoke of. That, she could understand, but she still wasn’t sure how to overcome his pride.
“Is fear also the reason you won’t allow Mr. Blackwood to help you? Fear more than pride?” Lucy handed the images of the two men back to her aunt.
“I suppose it is. Angus wishes to help me because he adores me, but what if I disappoint him? What if he comes to resent me because he’s given me so much? Or what if, because he’s helped me so much, he comes to respect me a little less?”
“Love doesn’t work that way.”
Aunt Cassandra chuckled. “In my experience, love is many things, but predictable isn’t one of them, dear girl. But I do adore your fierceness and determination to see every dilemma as entirely solvable.”
Lucy heard what she wasn’t saying too. Perhaps she thought her naive or impulsive. “If I’m not brave enough to follow my heart, what was the point of coming on this journey?”
“What will you do, since he’s refused your proposal?”
Lucy’s mind felt fuzzy. She hadn’t taken the time to form any real plan, but as tired as she was, only one thing made sense.
The issue of what he owed to some dreadful man named Beck was at the core of his troubles. James’s life was not his own until that man was out of it.
“I think I should return to London.”
“Without speaking to Lord Rossbury?”
“He’s not here, Aunt Cassandra. He’s gone.”
“But how? I spoke to the stable master. No conveyances are gone beyond Angus’s, since he departed for his whiskey works this morning.” Cassandra took a sip of tea and let out a contemplativehmm. “Perhaps Angus delivered Rossbury to the station at Inverkeithing. It wouldn’t be far out of his way.”
“Then I should prepare to depart too.”
“You should rest, my dear. Leave tomorrow if you must.”
Lucy didn’t want to lose that much time. “I’ll wash and rest for a bit and can still catch the morning train.”
Her aunt stood and reached out a hand, helping Lucy to her feet. Then she braced a hand on each of Lucy’s shoulders.
“I know that once your mind is made up, there’s little chance of dissuading you. But at least I can do this much.” She released Lucy and returned to that desk where she’d retrieved the images of LordMunro and Lord Rossbury. She replaced those and then withdrew a velvet drawstring pouch not much bigger than her palm.
“Take these,” she said as she pressed the pouch into Lucy’s hand. “A lady traveling alone can never be too careful or prepared.”
The cool velvet slid against her fingertips but whatever was inside was heavy and blocky, with the heft of metal. When Aunt Cassandra nodded, Lucy loosened the pouch’s tie, looked inside, and gasped.
The gun was so tiny it looked like a toy. An etched, pearl-handled toy.
“It’s not loaded, and, no, I’ve never shot anyone. But I have waved it about as a threat, and it has cowed gentlemen who thought their size and bad intentions would allow them to get the better of me.” She stared at the pouch in Lucy’s hand. “There’s more.”
The other object was oblong, silver, and also etched. A sort of tube about the length of Lucy’s palm.
Aunt Cassandra took it from her carefully, pointed it away from them, and pushed a lever.
