She will not be one of them.’ It was a recent great fear of hers since Beatrice had got so big. What if there was no one around to help when the baby came? What if they didn’t have enough skill if the birth was difficult? She knew Bea worried, too, and all she could give her friend were empty promises she didn’t know if she could keep.
‘May, let the good man go. I had to call him away from his supper.’ Liam was behind her, his hand over hers, removing it from the bridle, his touch, no matter how perfunctory, sending sharp pricks of awareness up her arm. He was too close. She had nowhere to go that didn’t involve backing into his chest.
It was too close for the doctor, too. ‘Are you her husband?’ Dr Stimson’s eyes slid between them.
‘No, sir, I’m a friend of her brother who has come to watch over them,’ Liam offered and May bristled. He made it sound like they were children who needed a nursemaid.
The doctor shrugged, ignoring her entirely. ‘Too bad. That one needs taking in hand, a strong hand.’
‘Duly noted, sir.’ Liam nodded and May stepped on his foot. How dare he engage in a conversation about her when she was right there?
‘Ouch! What did you do that for?’ Liam scowled once the doctor had ridden away.
‘Why didn’t you defend me?’ May railed. ‘I despise that man and you kowtowed to him. “Duly noted, sir,”’ she mimicked.
Liam laughed. ‘You don’t need defending, May. You can handle yourself perfectly well when you want to. But you have to learn not to alienate the entire neighbourhood. Don’t you know you catch more flies with sugar than vinegar?’
May folded her arms across her chest, studying him. ‘Is that what you’ve been doing these past years? Catching flies with sugar?’ There’d been nothing but vinegar about him when she’d first met him, this glorious, angry young man who rebelled at everything, who was fiercely proud of being from the streets. He’d been rebellious in ways she couldn’t be or didn’t dare to be. She’d admired what she thought of as his courage.
‘When it suits me, yes.’ The rebel was still there in his long tangle of hair, the rough-hewn planes of his face and the hard muscles of a man who knew how to labour. But the rebel shared space now with a man who carried intelligence behind his blue eyes alongside his anger. This was a man who knew how to control himself, whose anger was no longer tossed about indiscriminately. She wasn’t sure if she resented him for that or if she envied him that control. ‘It’s important to be nice, May, until it’s time to be something less...nice.’
‘You sound like Preston.’
‘Maybe because that’s where I learned it.’ That gorgeous mouth of his smiled at her as winter dusk fell about them. Her knees wanted to go weak. This was the real danger, not the elusive Cabot Roan, but these moments when she could forget the past, forget the problems of the present and lose herself in him. She didn’t want to succumb to his rough charm again. One disaster was enough.
* * *
Disaster seemed to be the theme of the day. May sat on the edge of her bed, unopened letter in hand, staring at it. It was going to be bad news, she just knew it, but there was no sense in waiting. If she didn’t know what was in the letter, she couldn’t begin to plan against it. She drew a fortifying breath and slid a thumb beneath the seal. Her mother’s flowery script always looked so innocent. But she’d learned long ago that doom lurked in those elegantly cultivated letters. May skimmed the opening paragraphs, confirming they were her mother’s standard opening gambit: news about town, friendly gossip to soften the reader up so when the real punch came, it would blindside you.
There it was, four paragraphs in. May re-read it slowly.
We will be in Edinburgh for the holidays in order to conduct some business of your father’s regarding shipping and manufacturing that I don’t pretend to understand. We would kindly request your presence.
We’ve taken a town house in New Town, the address is at the bottom of the page. I’ll pack your gowns since you’ll have nothing suitable with you to wear. We are looking forward to spending the holidays together even if we are not able to spend them in London.
I have heard Edinburgh is quite festive this time of year and there will be plenty of entertainment. We’ll expect you December first. Several of your father’s business associates will be in town as well with their families.
Families. May crumpled the paper. She knew what that meant. Sons. Sons who had been groomed to run wealthy, productive businesses, who were ready to take their place in society as wealthy men. Some of them would probably have titles, all of them would have connections to some sort of nobility—perhaps their grandfathers if they were in business and allowed to make money, but still acceptable for the daughter of a second son like herself, still well placed enough in society to rise above the stigma of trade if need be.
She’d been so sure she’d run far enough that her parents couldn’t get to her here, that she’d be safe from their matchmaking efforts. All along she’d been worrying over the summons home. But they’d proven her wrong. If they couldn’t bring her home, they’d simply come to her and they had. Suddenly Scotland didn’t seem so big any more. Edinburgh was just a ferry’s ride away from their village on the firth and she didn’t think her mother’s letter was as harmless as it sounded. Her mother likely had a suitor picked out, or two or three.
She would not panic. She still had some time and she had Liam Casek under her roof, the one man in all of England her father truly despised. She could only imagine the look on her parents’ faces when she showed up on their doorstep with him. There was no question of him allowing her to travel without him, he’d made that plain today. Of course, that was assuming she went to Edinburgh at all.
She had almost a month. Anything could happen. There could be a storm. The Forth could be too choppy to cross, the alternate road route impaired from winter weather. Perhaps Cabot Roan would actually kidnap her! Her parents could learn of Preston’s injury and cancel their journey. Maybe they already had. This letter would have been posted before they’d have had news of Preston. Then again, if Preston was working secretly, they wouldn’t know at all. Still, it was possible one disaster could play against another to her benefit.
The news would devastate Beatrice. May wouldn’t say anything until she had to. If she actually left, it would most likely mean she wasn’t coming back. She didn’t see how she’d escape Edinburgh. The baby would be born by then and her original argument for coming here would be gone. Her parents would insist she’d done what she’d come to do and make her go home with them, back to ‘real’ life.
May folded the letter into squares. Just this afternoon, she’d been looking ahead to spring, making plans for the greenhouse, imagining raising a baby here. In a matter of hours, that fantasy had been shot to hell. She fought back tears. The past was closing in on her from all sides. She couldn’t go to Edinburgh. It would be the end of her life as she knew it. There was only one solution. She just wouldn’t go. One disaster was enough.
* * *
One disaster was one too many as far as Cabot Roan was concerned. He drummed his fingers on the polished surface of his desk and stared down the two men standing before him, caps twisting in their hands nervously. ‘How is it that you cannot find Preston Worth? He is severely wounded, likely suffering from loss of blood and unable to travel. He’s a rabbit gone to ground, and you two...’ he made an up-and-down gesture with his hand ‘...you two are certainly more than rabbits. You are foxes! You are hounds to the hunt. Surely you should be able
