Page 85 of How the Belle Stole Christmas

Catriona reached for another slice of bread. “Then why are ye here, instead of getting to know this Lavinia?”

Will scraped the bottom of his bowl with a piece of bread.

“It was made clear to me that Lavinia was not the daughter my aunt wished for me to marry. I was expected to marry the eldest, Daphne, and there was to be none of this nonsense about courtship. We were to wed as soon as the bans could be called.”

Catriona snorted. “That smells of something rotten.”

Will reached for the ladle and helped himself to some more soup.

“Your instincts are better than mine. I was merely confused by the hysterical fit my aunt flew into when I balked at the notion of marrying someone I scarcely knew. After four days of slammed doors and constant crying from my aunt and cousin, the butler took pity on me and pulled me aside. It turns out that Miss Daphne had taken on a new dancing master a few months prior to my arrival. In spite of her mother’s instructions to the contrary, the door to the ballroom was frequently observed to be closed during her lessons.

Moreover, the sounds coming from inside the room were not suggestive of dancing.

Leastwise, not dancing of the traditional sort. ”

“Oh-ho-ho!” Catriona waggled her eyebrows. “So, she found herself in the family way.”

“Precisely.” Will held up the ladle in a silent question. At Catriona’s nod, he refilled her bowl.

Catriona’s expression was irate. “And they expected ye to patch things up by marrying her and claiming another man’s child as yer own?”

“So it would seem.”

“What did ye do, then?”

Will took up his spoon. “I went to London. I assumed they would not follow me, given that my cousin’s condition would grow more obvious by the day.”

It had even worked for a little while. Not that Will had any friends in London, but he had immediately joined the Society of Antiquaries.

He figured if gentleman dilettante was the only type of historian he would ever be, he might as well go ahead and take up the mantle.

And he had met some like-minded gentlemen in the Society.

Had he been able to remain in London longer, he felt certain he would have been able to forge a friendship or two.

But he’d never been that lucky.

“Unfortunately,” he continued, “my aunt has a number of friends in Town, and she wrote to every one of them. Soon, I couldn’t walk into a room without it filling with whispers about the ‘betrothed’ whom I had ‘made disappear.’ I suppose it wasn’t a huge leap to accuse me outright of murder.

But Daphne was never my betrothed, and, as far as I am aware, she remains alive to this day. ”

He’d been concentrating on his soup, trying not to fret over Catriona’s reaction. But he couldn’t resist sneaking a glance at her to see if she seemed convinced by his words.

Disappointment was written plain across her face. “Then ye’ve never slain anyone with a shovel?”

“I have not.”

A trace of desperation came into her eyes. “Not even someone who very much deserved it?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “No! I told you, I’m a dull academic. Why do you look disappointed?”

She blew out a huff. “These are bad men we’re going up against. A bit of shovel slaying experience wouldnae be entirely amiss.”

Now he was laughing, the sort of helpless, from your belly laugh that he hadn’t done in…

Gracious. That didn’t bear thinking about.

He gave her a fond smile. “You’re a strange person, Catriona McCallister.”

She responded with a preen. “Thank ye. So, no shovel slaying, but when I asked if ye’d killed someone, ye didnae deny it. Ye didnae do it with a shovel, then. What happened?”

Will steeled himself. “I killed—”

He was interrupted by the chiming of the clock upstairs. Catriona sprang to her feet. “Is it one o’clock already?” She grabbed his arm and tugged him toward the door. “Come on! We still have to practice the dancing!”

Will stumbled to his feet, knocking over his stool in the process. “Don’t you want to hear about—”

“Later.”

“But—”

She stopped abruptly halfway up the stairs, and Will had to grab the banister to keep from falling backward.

She jabbed a finger against his chest. “I am nae going to let them steal my artifacts!”

“Your artifacts?” he asked, surprised.

She flinched, and for a second, guilt washed across her face. “The artifacts, I meant to say. Although I do think of them as mine. Ours, more like. They’re the pride of my family, and the people of Skye.”

Will saw an opportunity to ask the question he’d been wondering about for a long time. “Who was it who discovered the cache?”

Catriona flushed red, from her face to her neck to her ears. Quickly, she whirled around and started back up the stairs. “We havenae time to discuss it.”

Will hurried after her. “We could discuss it while we walk.”

She broke into a jog. “This afternoon, practice shuffling while ye’re playing the songs. It doesnae have to be proper dancing. Just enough movement to create the illusion through the stained-glass windows.”

They had reached the doorway to the hall where the ‘party’ would be held that evening. Will grabbed Catriona’s hand, pulling her to a halt. Neither of them was wearing gloves, and he was exquisitely aware of the feeling of his skin against hers.

She cast him a fleeting glance. There was a wildness to her eyes, a desperation that he didn’t understand.

He made his voice calm and gentle. “Won’t you tell me?”

She jerked her hand from his. “I’ve much to see to.”

She disappeared up the stairs in a whirl of skirts.