Page 20 of For a Scot's Heart Only

He was gone.

Chapter Five

The league met in Cecelia’s bedchamber, vinegar’s tang in the air. Mary, Margaret, Aunt Flora, and Aunt Maude were cramped together with their new accidental member, Mr. Alexander Sloane. Jenny slipped in with tea, saying nary a word, which should have been Mary’s first clue—something was amiss. The other clue was a porcelain bowl full of vinegar by the window.

She eyed it warily.

The bedchamber was tomb-like, the aunts sipping tea and Cecelia cocooned in bed, her fluffy white counterpane tucked under her chin and a cloth draped over her forehead. Cecelia abed wasn’t unusual. The woman loved her creature comforts and she was prone to rest all day when her courses came. But this was different.

Cecelia stared morosely at the ceiling, imparting indelicate news.

“I’ve retched much of the day.”

Margaret stopped pouring her tea. “How horrid for you. Should we postpone our meeting?”

“No,” Cecelia groaned. “It’s been two hours since my last bout.”

Aunt Flora eyed the window. “That explains the vinegar.”

Vinegar—an old remedy for absorbing bad smells.

Mr. Sloane took the cloth from Cecelia’s forehead and dipped it in a pitcher of water on the bedside table.

“You might as well tell them,” he said, wringing the cloth. “They’ll know soon enough.”

Cecelia grumbled and burrowed deeper under the bed covers.

“I am with child.”

Stunned silence followed her bald announcement. Mary touched her mouth.

A babe...

Mr. Sloane was a patrician profile to the room, quiet, attentive. He brushed a damp curl off Cecelia’s forehead, his mouth curving with aching tenderness. Cecelia’s lashes drifted up, her eyes adoring him. Their love was palpable and bright, the glow robbing Mary of speech.

Owl-eyed Margaret spoke first.

“But you’re not...”

“Married?” Cecelia nabbed her with a world-weary gaze. “You do know how babes are made, don’t you?”

Margaret’s cheeks bloomed a ferocious red.

“Y-yes, but I—I thought...”

Margaret snatched a biscuit from the tray and crunched it loudly. The older women of the league honed their scowls on Mr. Sloane. He stood by Cecelia and turned to them as one might face a judge and jury.

“What matters is the well-being of Cecelia and her babe.” Aunt Flora spoke to the group at large before directing her attention to Mr. Sloane. “But I suspect you have something tae say about this.”

His bronze eyes solemn, he addressed the room.

“I’d marry her today, if she’d have me.”

Cecelia reached for him. “You know I love you.”

His mouth tugging with emotion, he held her hand lovingly. There was a small squeeze, a wealth of words passing in that minute movement. A unity that would not break.

Mary dropped into a chair, air thin in her chest.