Page 3 of The Lady’s Great Escape

“Kit is a penniless viscount. Father needs Hamlin’s coin.”

Christopher Sinclair, Viscount Stormont, was only twenty—more than three years her junior—but he was a kind, young man who always had a smile for her when he visited. She’d found him attractive and funny. While they hadn’t had many conversations alone, she’d sat with Gray and Kit for several meals.

Surely having a husband a few years younger than her had to be better than having a much, much older groom. One she’d never even met.

Graham paced while Celia went to the desk in the corner of her room and pulled out a piece of paper.

“Kit and I could elope. He’s Scottish, he must have properties there where we can go. I’ll write to him and you can deliver my letter. Tell him I’ll be an excellent wife. I’ll not nag or bother him in any way. I won’t even mind if he has a mistress.”

“Celia, you deserve better than that from a husband. And he’d never consider doing such a thing. He’s much too respectable for that.” Gray rolled his eyes as if this were a bad trait to have.

“Do I deserve a man who is willing to make an alliance with our father? How disreputable must he be to have a connection with such a disgraceful man as our sire?”

Gray swallowed and gave a small nod. “Give me the letter. I’ll take it to Kit.”

Celia poured her heart out onto the page, not even caring if it sounded like begging. She was begging. Desperately.

When she was done, she sealed the letter and handed it over to her brother.

Once again, Celia sat by her window waiting for Graham to return with an answer to her problems. She was certain Kit would agree if for no other reason than he would be inclined to save a desperate woman. That was the kind of man she knew the viscount to be.

She pictured him with his blond hair and piercing green eyes. He’d spent most of his youth in England with his mother, and only finished his education in Edinburgh. Unlike Gray’s other Scottish friends, Kit had only an occasional Scottish lilt which she found appealing.

Her heart felt lighter as the minutes ticked by. Gray would return with the fortunate news, and she would leave that night. She packed a bag with her meager belongings in preparation, and set it by the door.

But like before, Graham returned with a frown. She realized she’d been wrong. Kit wasn’t to be her savior. Her fear was confirmed when Gray cleared his throat and spoke.

“I’m sorry, Celia. He won’t marry you.”