‘Write her a letter,’ he suggested. ‘I’ll deliver it on your behalf. Tell her that you no longer wish to marry her—tell her whatever you want. Then take your woman and go to Scotland.’
For the first time, there was a glimmer of hope in Lachlan’s eyes. ‘What of the engagement ball tonight? I canna just leave.’
‘Go to the ball, then. And leave afterwards. Give me the letter, and I’ll make sure she reads it after a day or two.’
Lachlan appeared hesitant. ‘I should tell her before the ball. I dinna want her to be humiliated.’
‘It’s too late to send word to all the guests,’ Dalton reminded him. ‘Just attend the gathering tonight and tell her afterwards.’
‘I suppose she could delay the wedding,’ he hedged. ‘The wedding invitations have no’ been sent yet.’ He brightened at the realisation. ‘You’re right. I’ll go to the ball tonight, but afterwards, I’ll leave. You give her the letter, and it can end quietly.’
Dalton nodded in agreement. The gratefulness in his friend’s eyes matched his own feelings. Calling off the wedding might infuriate the earl and the countess, but it was the right thing to do.
Regina felt sick to her stomach. Her engagement ball had been dreadful. Lord Camford had tried to warn her about Lachlan’s feelings for another woman. She hadn’t wanted to believe it—but once she’d seen it for herself, she had been torn by confusion and hurt.
She wanted a man to look at her in the same way Lachlan looked at Miss Goodson. Never had she seen a man more in love, and though she had no feelings towards the laird, she was starting to see that it could be a problem. She had initially believed that it didn’t matter if he kept another woman on the side, for he would stay out of her bed.
But now, she was starting to realise the complications. He would resent her for being his wife when he wanted someone else. The marriage might turn to bitterness, and she didn’t want that.
Yet was there any other choice but to go through with the wedding? She didn’t see a way out, for it would break her father’s heart.
On the table beside the fire lay a third blackmail note demanding three thousand pounds. This time, she could no longer ignore it.
Don’t try to avoid payment any longer. I saw what happened that night. If you do not send the money I will inform Mallencourt’s family that his death was not an accident.
The scrawled words made her swallow back the bile rising in her throat. Thus far, her father had not paid the blackmail—and she didn’t want it to continue any longer. Likely his worsening illness had prevented it, besides her attempt to keep the notes from him. She didn’t want anything to upset him, for his physical health was waning.
And even more, she wasn’t entirely certain about the state of their wealth. Did he have the money to pay the blackmailer? Or even her dowry? Her worry deepened, and she understood how grave their situation was.
No one could ever learn what had happened that night, so many years ago. Her father had done what he could to silence the idle gossip. But more than anything, she needed to escape London, to avoid suspicion and quietly disappear.
Lachlan had sent over his own note last night. Most likely it was an apology she didn’t want to hear. She closed her eyes, calming herself. It was better to let the past go.
She couldn’t change his feelings for the governess, but she could become a good wife to him. Although their own marriage would be an arrangement that neither truly wanted, it would grant her the escape and the protection of the laird’s clan.
Regina moved close to the fire, warming herself. Her mother had advised her to move the wedding date up, and she agreed with the decision. It no longer mattered when this wedding took place. They could have a quiet ceremony with only a few guests, and then she would go to Scotland.
With that, she tossed the blackmail note and Lachlan’s letter into the fire. The last thing she wanted was to hear reasons why he loved someone else. The edges of the paper curled up, and she felt better after both papers burned into ashes.
A knock sounded at the door, and she glanced up to see her mother. Arabella’s eyes were red as if she’d been crying, and she asked, ‘May I come in?’
‘Of course.’ Regina gestured for her to sit down. ‘Are you all right?’
Her mother’s mouth tightened, and she shook her head. ‘I would like to tell you yes, but it wouldn’t be the truth.’
‘What is it?’ She moved to sit beside Arabella and touched her hand.
‘Your father...the physician says that he has consumption. He—he’s dying, Regina. And I can’t bear to think of living without him.’ Her mother’s sobs broke through, and Regina could only embrace her. Her throat ached with her own tears, but someone had to be strong. There were no words to ease the sorrow, so she let her mother cry.
‘I wanted him to be there for your wedding,’ she wept. ‘I wanted it to be special. With flowers and food and guests to celebrate with us. But I worry that he doesn’t have much time.’
Regina pulled back and held her mother’s shoulders. Though she didn’t personally care what sort of wedding it was, she now understood that Arabella was using the plans as her own way of escaping the pain.
‘I’ve sent word to Lachlan about having the wedding in three days,’ her mother said. ‘At least then your father can be there and try to enjoy it.’ Her lip trembled, and she wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. For a moment, she seemed to be gathering her courage. ‘We will celebrate as if he is well and whole. And I know it will bring him joy, despite his illness.’
Regina took her mother’s hands
