He pretended to be interested in the cards. They were playing whist with the Duke of Worthingstone and Gabriel MacKinnon. The four of them had been school mates, long ago, and their friendship had remained strong over the years.
The duke’s demeanour seemed almost gleeful, so likely he would win this round. Gabe was scowling at his own hand. He had travelled down from Scotland, though Dalton had no idea why. MacKinnon had been widowed two years ago, but he attracted women easily. They were happy to flirt with him, and he smiled enough to gain their full attention. Yet, he seemed uninterested in marrying again.
‘Does she want to marry you?’ Gabe asked, leading off with an ace.
Locharr laid down a three, following suit. ‘I dinna think she wants to wed anyone, truth to tell. She doesna seem like any of the other ladies. It’s almost as if she’s scared of something.’
Dalton tightened his grip on the brandy glass. Though his mood had darkened, he forced himself to lighten the atmosphere. ‘Scared of you?’ he teased. ‘With that scar, I can’t think why.’
‘There’s no reason to be.’ But Locharr did relax somewhat, tossing another card on the table.
‘What of your governess?’ Gabe prompted. ‘She’s a bonny one.’
That did elicit a reaction. Locharr’s mouth tightened and his eyes flared with anger. ‘Leave her alone, Gabe. She’s no’ for you.’
MacKinnon only smiled, as if he’d got the reaction he’d expected. Interesting. Dalton hadn’t imagined such a possessive air from someone intending to wed another lady. It made him recall the night he had discovered Locharr with Miss Goodson, when they had said goodbye to one another.
Despite what he’d overheard between them, Dalton recognised the truth. Locharr would never choose a governess over Lady Regina. Her dowry of twenty thousand pounds wasn’t something he could walk away from, given his clan’s poverty. But there was a yearning in the man’s face, along with grim determination that he would obey his duty.
Worthingstone took the next trick and then said, ‘Toria asked me to find a post for her. I am sorry if Miss Goodson was embarrassed the other night by idle gossip.’
Now why would the duke care about the reaction of a governess? His wife had tried to hide Miss Goodson in another room. Did Worthingstone know something? Dalton hid his reaction by studying his cards.
‘What happened to her?’ Locharr asked. It was clear that he was not speaking of the other night—he was asking about the prior scandal surrounding the governess. Dalton knew little about it, for he’d been in Scotland at the time.
Worthingstone arranged his cards and paused. ‘It was years ago. She made her debut, and Viscount Nelson was quite taken with her beauty. He gave her all his attention, and she was overcome by it. He seduced her and disappeared.’
The black look on Locharr’s face startled Dalton. His friend looked ready to murder the man, which was not the reaction of a man who had let go of his feelings for this governess. It didn’t bode well for the marriage.
‘Where did she go afterwards?’ Locharr demanded.
‘I cannot say,’ Worthingstone finished. ‘She never showed her face in society again. Her father left, and I don’t believe she’s had any contact with her family.’ He cleared his throat. ‘There was a rumour of a child, but no one knows.’
All throughout the duke’s revelation, Dalton kept his gaze fixed upon Locharr. He was trying to understand the truth of the laird’s intentions. The man’s expression was tightly strung, as if his anger were held back by a single thread.
At last, Locharr answered quietly, ‘She deserves better than the life she has now. Thank you for finding a post for her.’ Though his words were calm, there was no denying the emotions behind them.
They tried to ignore it, but there was an invisible tension lingering. The duke inclined his head and placed another card on the table. The game was a welcome distraction, and they played another round. This time, Dalton took the trick with his king. Though he knew he ought to drop the subject, he couldn’t stop himself from voicing his greater concern. As he pulled the cards across the table, he asked, ‘Will you ask for Lady Regina’s hand in marriage?’
‘Soon,’ Lachlan answered.
It was the answer he was expecting, but in his friend’s eyes, he could see the same sense of helplessness, the realisation that he could not have the woman he wanted. Locharr’s pain mirrored his own, and Dalton grimly tossed another card down.
He was starting to wonder if there was anything he could do. Though he shouldn’t interfere, neither did he want to see both of his friends miserable. Both were marrying out of duty, and the thought of it was an invisible blow to Dalton’s gut.
If there was a way to help them, he had to try.
Her father had spent most of the day in bed, coughing. Earlier, Regina had summoned a physician, who had given him medicines to help him sleep. She had planned to watch over him, but after the Laird of Locharr came to call, her mother had practically dragged her into the parlour after arranging for tea.
‘Regina, I cannot tell you how fortunate you are.’ Arabella sighed with happiness. ‘Now promise me, you will be a model of ladylike behaviour.’
She simply nodded, for what else was there to say? Her father was determined that she should marry Locharr, and it felt as if a trap were closing in around her. She had seen the physician’s grave expression after he had tended her father, and though he had tried to remain hopeful, she sensed that the worst lay ahead.
How could she entertain a guest when her father might be dying? It took all her years of training to compose her emotions and hold them back. Right now,
