Page 6 of The Duke’s Scottish Bride (Scottish Duchesses #3)

Chapter Five

“ C learly, we can go no further tonight. We need a place that will not draw undue attention,” the Duke stated. “Driver, please stop at the small inn over there on the left. It will have to do,” he ordered through the partition.

The carriage had jostled on for what seemed like forever, eating up the kilometers between Strathcairn as they made their long way toward London.

Their silence was broken only by the rhythmic thud of hooves on the road.

Night had fully descended by the time they reached Edinburgh, only making the hours more indecipherable.

What day is it? What time is it? Marion wondered, rubbing her eyes as she willed herself to stay awake.

She was so tired, not just from the journey but the exertion of all she had faced. She was in desperate need of rest and small comforts, a warm bed and a hot cup of tea.

They made their way inside this new inn, and the Duke went to the counter. He booked three rooms: one for their driver, one for himself, and one for the ladies.

“Good evening.” His voice was smooth and convincing as he offered a charming smile to the innkeeper. “My cousin, her traveling companion and I are most grateful for your vacancy this evening. We have grown weary of our travels.”

With Marion now free of that wedding gown, they had no reason to pretend they were husband and wife.

The innkeeper only nodded and led them down a dimly lit corridor.

Suddenly, Marion saw the Duke gripping Verity’s arm and pulling her back slightly out of the innkeeper’s earshot.

“Do not even think about running. Not again,” he said in a low, hard voice. “I mean it, Verity.”

“Leave her be, Yer Grace,” Marion said as she slipped back to them and wrapped an arm around Verity. “She is nae goin’ anywhere. I promise ye she will be safe with me.”

His gaze snapped to Marion. “Stay out of this, Lady Marion. This is none of your concern.”

“It is fine, Marion,” Verity interjected as a reluctant sigh escaped her lips. “He is right. I will not leave you alone with my brother. What kind of friend would I be to leave you with such a curmudgeon?”

The Duke narrowed his eyes at her, but Marion could see the flicker of relief crossing his features.

“Good. See that you do not,” he said with a final, piercing warning in his emerald eyes. “Goodnight,” he said and disappeared into his room.

“What happened? It was your wedding, Marion! And why were you with Anselm in the first place?”

Marion sank onto the soft bed where she closed her eyes to steady herself. She rubbed her temples and tried to make sense of everything that had happened.

How can I explain it all to Verity when I barely understand it myself?

She began with the note, her uncle’s sharp words, the growing dread she felt on the carriage ride to the church, and her desperate need to escape which led her to jump into a random carriage just to get away.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Verity said, half laughing. “That was reckless! I’m a terrible influence on you, I swear.”

“Maybe so.” Marion smiled faintly as a shiver running down her spine. “But anythin’ seemed better than walkin’ down that aisle.”

A small smile tugged at her lips as she thought of the Duke stepping into the carriage and feeling utterly baffled to find her sitting there.

She had been terrified, yes, but there was something about that brooding Duke—with emerald eyes like Scotland’s rolling hills—that stirred her.

She’d never seen a man with such a perfectly chiseled face.

From his dark hair to his strong jaw and carefully kept beard, she could not help but marvel at his immaculate appearance.

And his size—so strong, tall, and capable—he radiated power, and surprisingly, she found she liked it.

True control is knowing exactly when to take what you want—and how hard to hold on when you do.

Those words of his, that moment in the carriage, his hand on her waist at that inn… It’d stirred sensations within her that she’d never imagined before.

For a moment, she wondered if this strictness, this intensity… if it all translated to passion. If the Duke was a man who’d close the distance between them completely and lay a kiss on her lips.

What am I doing? This is Verity’s brother, for goodness’ sake!

Shaking off the thought, she told Verity about the confrontation at the church.

“Well, I’m happy he stood up to that ogre uncle of yours,” Verity commented, “and that spineless dandy Gilton. Perhaps it was a bit too bold, but it was necessary.”

“’Daenae make me feel worse than I already do,” Marion muttered.

“No, it’s a good thing,” Verity said firmly. “Well, what do you think you’ll do now?”

Marion stilled. Her friend’s question hung in the air. Indeed, now that she’d left her uncle and aunt as well as her fiancé, she’d have to figure out a plan.

She hadn’t debuted in London; her uncle had forced her to meet suitors across Scotland during the summers. So, now, she’d have to rely on Verity and the Duke for that. She wasn’t thrilled about this, but perhaps they could help her find a decent husband there.

And even if she couldn’t find one, perhaps she could become a lady’s companion for a dowager; Marion knew that spinsters often chose that path. Again, she’d have to ask for a recommendation by Verity and the Duke, but surely, their word had some influence over the London ton .

“I have an idea,” Marion whispered. “But above all, I have time to think, and that’s a luxury I’m grateful for. The only thing I regret is outin’ yer whereabouts without yer permission.”

“I hold no grudge against you, my friend. Anselm was bound to locate me at some point. At least I have you with me now,” Verity said.

Marion savored that rare, precious moment of shared vulnerability with her closest friend. Despite everything, she felt safe, warmed by the bond that chased away the lingering chill inside her.

But as the fire dimmed low and the room grew quiet, a question weighed too heavily on Marion’s heart to ignore.

“Verity…” Marion’s voice broke the stillness as she turned toward her in the dark. “Why did ye run away? Truly.”

Verity was silent for a moment, her silhouette still beneath the covers. Then, with a sigh, she whispered, “I suppose I owe you that answer.”

Marion waited, watching her friend’s profile in the faint glow of the dying hearth.

“I told you I fled an arranged marriage,” Verity said quietly. “That much is true. I couldn’t stomach the thought of marrying a man I didn’t love, a dull, respectable lord chosen by my brother.”

Marion’s heart gave a faint, startled jolt.

“Yer brother arranged it?” she asked softly.

Verity let out a soft, rueful laugh. “Oh yes. He meant well, I think. He thought he was protecting me. Securing my future. And I tried, Marion. I truly did. I tried to be the dutiful sister, to push aside my own dreams for the sake of family honor.”

Her voice tightened, thick with old emotion.

“But as the wedding drew near, it felt like I was standing at the edge of a cliff, staring into a life I didn’t want. A life where I would disappear into someone else’s expectations. So I ran.”

Marion said nothing, watching her friend in awe.

“I left a note for Anselm,” Verity continued, her voice softer now, tinged with regret. “I begged him to tell society I’d gone to care for a distant aunt or fallen ill—anything to shield him from scandal. I didn’t mean to wound him, but I needed my freedom more than anything else.”

Marion reached out and gently squeezed Verity’s hand.

“I went to Elspeth,” Verity said, a faint smile creeping into her voice. “Posed as her companion, slipped into the village to buy books and write in peace. And then I met you.”

Marion’s heart ached with understanding. “Ye never told me it was yer brother who arranged the match.”

“I didn’t dare,” Verity whispered. “I suppose… I felt guilty. I still do. I hope he won’t hate me forever.

” She exhaled slowly. “I love him, Marion. He’s my brother.

But I hate the way he tries to control everything and everyone around him.

I kept my dreams hidden for so long, afraid of disappointing him. ”

They fell quiet, the weight of Verity’s confession settling between them.

“I just want to prove that I can live on my own terms,” Verity finished, her voice barely audible. “Even if it means risking everything.”

Marion squeezed her hand again, her heart full. “Ye already have.”

Later, curled beneath unfamiliar covers, Marion willed herself to sleep, but her mind drifted elsewhere.

She couldn’t stop thinking about him . The duke. His sharp wit, his searing gaze, the way he had looked at her in that carriage, as though he could see every secret she kept.

That unexpected intimacy hummed beneath her skin, lingering as she prayed that, when sleep finally claimed her, it would carry her straight into his arms.

Five endless days later, the rhythmic jolt of the carriage had become a familiar companion.

They had made their way from Edinburgh to Berwick-upon-Tweed, then Alnwick, Newcastle, Darlington, and finally, they approached Stamford.

Anselm had mostly kept to himself. The conversation he and Lady Marion had shared when alone was starkly contrasted now that they had Verity with them. The ladies did their best to fill the void with quiet chatter, but exhaustion clung to them all like a dark shadow.

“If I do not stretch my legs soon, they might just shrivel up and fall off. Could we walk around for a bit, Anselm?” Verity asked as the carriage pulled up to another inn.

“We shouldn’t waste time, Verity,” Anselm replied. “We need to press on.”

“You are tired too,” Verity countered in a frustrated and determined fashion.

“We could be seen.” He knew they were close to their destination and was sure his sister comprehended their location, as well.

“Oh, what’s the harm? We can just say that Marion is a distant cousin.”