Page 3 of The Duke’s Scottish Bride (Scottish Duchesses #3)

Chapter Three

“ V erity!” Anselm called out. He would not wait for the butler to announce him or observe any other propriety for that matter.

He simply pushed past the bewildered man and strode into Inverhall like he owned it.

Lady Marion, surprisingly still agile in her cumbersome gown, was right on his heels, following him.

He found Verity in the drawing room, seated leisurely on a settee with a book resting in her lap.

Beside her sat a young woman he didn’t recognize.

Dark brown hair framed a face that could barely be more than twenty.

Anselm immediately assumed this was Lady Inverhall as she remained completely absorbed in her own book and unaware of his presence.

“Verity!” He called again as he entered the room.

Verity’s face went utterly flat at the sound of her brother’s voice. The book slipped from her fingers and thudded to the carpet as their eyes met.

“Anselm—” she began to say, but he stopped her.

“You are coming with me,” Anselm barked. His tone allowed no space for argument. “Now.”

Lady Inverhall rose. A delicate frown creased her brow as she approached him with a warm smile.

“Yer Grace, I assure ye, Verity has been quite safe here in me home. There’s no need for such haste. Please, let me ring for some refreshment and?—”

“If you will excuse us, my lady. This is a family matter,” he snapped.

“I am sorry we have never been properly introduced, Yer Grace, but I feel as if I know you well. When your family holidayed in the Lake District during the summer months, I always spent ample time with your sister.”

Anselm straightened. As he blinked, he recalled the names Lady Inverhall and Elspeth being mentioned by his sister a few times, and the trip to Scotland for her wedding.

When he really stretched his mind, he recollected the subsequent trip Verity made just a few months ago to see Lady Inverhall after her husband passed away suddenly.

In all his concern and haste, he hadn’t even remembered this dowager his sister had befriended long ago.

Idiot , he reprimanded himself, I should have thought of Inverhall first.

“If she would like to plan a trip to visit you in the future, with proper notice and planning, that will be a different story,” Anselm said as he turned his steely gaze on her.

“But Lady Inverhall, with all due respect, my sister’s safety and future are my concern.

She will be returning with me to London. Now.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Verity and Lady Marion exchange worried glances. It was evident they were speaking a silent kind of language only close friends could.

“How do you two know each other?” he asked Verity.

“Marion’s my friend,” Verity explained. “We met in the village’s bookshop,” then, she turned to Marion, “What happened, my friend?”

Marion hesitated and sighed, “It’s a long story.”

“Well, both Elspeth and I are here to hear it.”

Lady Inverhall stepped forward, “Perhaps some tea could help all of us cal—” she persisted but Anselm put his hand up.

“Enough. I am not wasting another second here. Verity, gather whatever is necessary for our return to London.”

Verity’s jaw tightened, but her voice remained calm and steady. “Anselm, listen to reason. It’s too late for all that. Lord Fanthorpe will not marry me now. Not after I ran away. We both know how these things work. You cannot fix this.”

“I can and I will ,” Anselm replied sharply, his eyes glinting with fierce determination. “Your actions do not change our duty. I’ll handle Fanthorpe.”

“I do not wish to be handled like a business transaction,” she snapped, though still keeping her composure. “You can arrange a thousand weddings if you like, but I won’t go back into a life I’ve already rejected. You cannot force me into it.”

“You think I will allow you to stay here and ruin yourself entirely?” he ground out. “You will come back with me, Verity. You are my sister. My responsibility. If I must drag you out of this house, I will.”

Lady Inverhall stepped forward again, her expression firm. “That’s enough, Yer Grace. You may believe this to be your family matter, but as long as Verity is under my roof, I will not see her dragged about like some disobedient child.”

Anselm’s gaze was ice-cold as it flicked to Lady Inverhall. “If you wish to press this matter further, my lady, I remind you that I could easily involve the authorities. I doubt you’d wish for scandal in your home.”

A tense silence fell, every breath in the room held tight.

Verity’s face flushed, but not with shame. With a quiet exhale, she rose from her seat with the regal dignity of a woman who had made her peace with hard choices.

“No need to threaten anyone,” she said coolly, her voice carrying the weight of resignation. “I will go with you, Anselm.”

She met his gaze squarely, lifting her chin in defiance even as she agreed.

“I will return with you, brother. On one condition.”

“Oh, dear sister, there are no conditions. You will be returning home at once.”

“There is,” Verity pressed. There was fire in her eyes. “Marion must come with us.”

Anselm blinked. He glanced at the lady standing beside him, then back at his sister.

“Absolutely not,” Anselm scoffed. “This woman is not my responsibility. She has her own affairs to attend to.”

Lady Inverhall stepped forward then, her voice gentle but firm. “If I may, Yer Grace, Marion is welcome to stay here with me as long as she needs. There is no place safer for her than Inverhall.”

“Thank you, Elspeth, I—” Marion began to say but Verity’s eyes narrowed.

“Marion, did your uncle and aunt ever hear about Lady Inverhall?” Verity asked.

Marion hesitated. “I mentioned her once or twice.”

Verity’s tone grew serious. “Then they will come looking for you here. You cannot stay. You must come with us and get far away from this place.”

“I will not repeat myself, sister,” Anselm folded his arms, still unwilling to relent.

“Anselm, please,” Verity pleaded. “She clearly needs help. Look at her!”

The tension in the room thickened until it became a palpable weight as Anselm looked at the would-be bride in front of him.

Marion felt a pang of guilt rush through her veins. Her cheeks flushed at the thought of such an imposition.

And yet, she was so utterly desperate.

As much as she needed an out, and there was one right in front of her in the form of Verity, this situation was her fault and hers to manage. She gave up on the idea of knights on white horses and fairytale endings long ago.

It was time to face the music.

“Verity, nay,” she interjected, stepping forward and shaking her head in resignation. “I am so sorry I dragged ye all into this. I will go back. I will go to me wedding. There is nay other option for me.”

“No!” Verity cried, looking at her in horror. “You cannot do that! What about those notes you were telling me about? The threats? Is that why you left?” she said as she walked to Marion and took her hands in her own. “I can see it in your eyes… there was another one, wasn’t there?”

The Duke’s head snapped towards Marion.

“What notes?” he demanded. “What are you talking about?”

Marion avoided his gaze. She shook her head and took her hands away from Verity.

“It is nothin’, Yer Grace,” she said. “I have acted rashly by runnin’ away from me duty. I can handle meself. The notes and Lord Gilton cannae be worse than livin’ with Reverend McCrae and his wife.” She winced as the words left her mouth.

She knew how pathetic, and unlike herself, they sounded.

The Duke took a step towards her. His expression was unreadable.

“This conversation is done,” he declared and turned to Verity. “Pack only the essentials for now. You can send for the rest later. My driver will take you in my carriage to the next travel stop. He will ensure your safe arrival, and we will regroup there.”

“Fine,” Verity mumbled, “but you may bear this on your conscience, brother. You are leaving an innocent woman in danger.”

The Duke clenched his jaw. “You have done enough recently, sister, to speak about burdened consciences.” Then, he turned to their host. “Lady Inverhall, would you be so kind as to spare me one of your carriages to take me and Lady Marion back to the village? I can hire another carriage there and send yours back to you.”

She hesitated, a flicker of concern in her eyes. “Yer Grace, surely it would be better if Marion stayed here, away from the dangers she faces. That wedding?—”

“I’m done with runaway brides,” Anselm interrupted, voice cold and unwavering. “Her duty is clear. She must return to her wedding, and that is final.”

Lady Inverhall opened her mouth to protest again, but Marion gently raised a hand to stop her.

“It’s all right, Elspeth,” Marion said softly, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “I daenae want ye to get into trouble on me account. I’ll go back to me wedding.”

Lady Inverhall’s eyes searched Marion’s face for a long moment, then she nodded reluctantly.

“Are you certain?”

Marion nodded, “Yes.”

Lady Inverhall pursed her lips. A moment later, she sighed.

“Very well, Yer Grace,” she said, inclining her head toward Verity. “I’ll tell me staff to fetch ye a carriage.”

“Good,” Anselm said, turning back to his sister. “Then make haste. I wish to be on our way at once. Let us get Lady Marion back to where she belongs.”

Anselm saw a man blocking the steps of the local church.

His posture was rigid with the practiced ease of one used to drawing rooms rather than rustic villages. The man’s pale, angular face held an angry frown, and his eyes flicked over Lady Marion with a kind of impatience barely concealed beneath polished civility.

“There you are, niece,” the man hissed and seized Lady Marion by the arm roughly.

Lady Marion winced, and a flicker of anger surged through Anselm’s veins. The man seemed vaguely familiar. Something about his bearing stirred a distant memory.