Page 16 of To Wed a Wild Scot
“This way, my lady.” Logan Blair took her arm and led her down a long hallway and into an enormous library. “You must be fatigued. Please, sit down.” He guided her to a leather chair so massive it nearly swallowed her, then crossed the room to a sideboard and removed the stopper from a crystal decanter. “Sherry? Or Madeira?”
“Neither, thank you.” Juliana glanced around the room, trying to gather her wits. It had been nearly six months since Fitzwilliam left England—months of uncertainty and worry, followed by days of exhausting travel. She could hardly believe she was here at all, moments away from seeing him at last. She twisted her hands in her lap and prayed he’d be pleased to see her.
Or if not pleased, then at least not angry—
“Here. Take it.”
Juliana looked up to find Logan Blair standing beside her chair, holding out a tumbler to her. She shook her head. “No, I don’t care for—”
“Take it, Lady Juliana.”
He didn’t say any more, but Juliana noticed a flicker of sympathy in his eyes. She reached for the tumbler with a shaking hand, her stomach suddenly heaving with dread. If a hard man like Logan Blair could feel compassion for her, then she must be a pitiable object, indeed.
She didn’t like this man. He’d stolen her letter and lied to Fitzwilliam. He was a scoundrel and a blackguard, but he washere, and she couldn’t bear to go another minute without knowing whatever bad news awaited her. She grasped his arm, her fingers clawing desperately at his coat sleeve. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it? Quickly, tell me what it is at once, before he—”
But it was already too late. The door to the library opened. Fitzwilliam’s voice carried clearly through the room. “Where the devil have you been, Logan? I expected you back here well before the dinner hour…”
He trailed off into silence as his gaze alighted on Juliana. His face paled, and he seemed to freeze halfway across the room. Juliana took a moment to squeeze her eyes closed and pray for strength, then she rose unsteadily to her feet and held her hand out to him. “Fitzwilliam. I—I’ve missed you.”
“Juliana? My God, it is really you? Where did you…how did you…”
Just when Juliana thought she must faint, the smile she remembered so well lit up every corner of Fitzwilliam’s handsome face. Oh, how she loved his smile. How she’d missed it! She couldn’t remember a time when his smile hadn’t been a part of her life, and to see it now was like holding a memory of her childhood in the palm of her hand.
“Juliana.” Fitzwilliam hurried across the room and clasped both her hands in his. “I can’t believe you’re here. Why didn’t you write? Only let me look at you. Ah, yes. A little travel weary, but as beautiful as I remember. You can’t know how much I’ve missed you, Lina, and how happy I am to see you!”
Tears sprang to Juliana’s eyes at the unmistakable affection in his voice, and his use of her childhood nickname. It felt as if a dozen lifetimes had passed since anyone had called her that. Her brother Jonathan and her dear friend Emma had used the nickname as well, but now Fitzwilliam was the only one left who ever called her Lina. “You’re not angry I’m here, then?”
His face softened at the sight of her tears. “Angry? No. How could I be? Oh, don’t cry, Lina! I only wonder you came such a long way without writing first.”
Juliana shot Mr. Blair a dark look, but she didn’t say a word about her stolen letter. She likely would have made it to Castle Kinross before her letter did, even if Logan Blair hadn’t burned it. There didn’t seem to be much point in fussing over it now. She had no idea why he’d taken it, or why he wanted to keep her from finding Castle Kinross, but there was a great deal going on here she didn’t understand. Until she had the whole story from Fitzwilliam, she’d keep quiet about the letter.
“You haven’t come alone?” An anxious frown clouded Fitzwilliam’s brow. “Where is Lord Graystone? Surely your father must have accompanied you.”
“My father?” Juliana shook her head, confused. Had Fitzwilliam not understood from her letters how dire the state of her father’s health was? “No. He’s in Bath, taking the waters.”
“Taking the waters! Why should he? He’s always been a picture of robust good health.”
Juliana stared at him, a sudden chill rushing over her skin. She couldn’t imagine how he could describe her father as robust after reading her letters. “I—I’m sorry. I thought I’d explained this, but perhaps I didn’t…I might not have been…”
The color must have drained from her face, because Fitzwilliam took her arm and hurried her back to her chair. “It’s all right, Lina. Sit down, take a deep breath, and tell me when you’re ready.”
Juliana struggled to catch her breath, but she was exhausted from her journey, worried about Stokes, and distressed over Logan Blair’s treachery. The next thing she knew, she was blurting out the bad news. “My father is dying, Fitzwilliam. His friend Lord Arthur has taken him to Bath to try the waters, but the doctor warned us not to expect much improvement. I’m afraid it’s quite hopeless.”
Fitzwilliam went pale with shock. “But I don’t understand this. How could he have deteriorated so quickly? He was healthy enough when I last saw him, and that was only a few months ago.”
Juliana sighed. Fitzwilliam was fond of her father, and it would pain him to hear this. “He suffered a severe consumptive attack soon after you left. He recovered, but about a month ago he had another attack after returning from a trip to Buckinghamshire. Since then…well, you’d be shocked to see how feeble he’s grown.”
“Oh, no. Oh, Lina.”
Tears threatened once again, and Juliana sucked in a deep breath to clear them from her throat. She and her father were both strong-willed, and they’d had a number of bitter arguments about Grace over the past few months, but he’d always been an affectionate parent, and she loved him dearly. “That’s why I’ve come, you see. It’s only a matter of time before I lose him, and I’ve got Grace to consider.”
Fitzwilliam had taken her hands again. As soon as she mentioned Grace’s name, his fingers tightened convulsively around hers. “Grace? What has she to do with this? Has something happened to her?”
Juliana had been fighting off a growing sense of dread since this conversation began, but it wasn’t until Fitzwilliam mentioned Grace with such urgency that it swelled into full-blown panic.
She’d written to him weeks ago and told him all about her father’s illness, Lord Cowden’s threats, and Grace’s situation. She’d been distressed, and her letters might not have been as coherent as she’d thought, but Fitzwilliam was behaving as if he were hearing all this for the first time.
Something is terribly wrong here…
