The Bareknuckle Groom - Holly Bush Page 0,76
shook her head. “No. Oh, no. You mustn’t. I could not allow you to change your plans on my account.”
“Have some r-refreshments, Miss Thompson. We will not arrive until after eight this evening.”
Kirsty felt the blood rushing to her cheeks. “I thank you for the tea and I will see that you are paid back once we are home in Philadelphia. But you cannot tell me what to do, Mr. Watson. You are not my father or brother or any relation.”
He leaned forward. “I am, however, a gentleman, and you are related to my good friend Mr. Pendergast, your brother-in-law, in fact. I could not countenance any young lady traveling alone if it was in my power to prevent it, especially as she is related to my circle of friends.”
“You are not stuttering, Mr. Watson.” Kirsty put a hand over her mouth as if doing so would stop her rude words from being heard. “I’m so sorry. I should never have mentioned it.”
He shrugged. “S-stuttering or not, I will escort you home.”
“My family . . .” she began and trailed off thinking of how terrified they would be when she did not arrive home for supper.
“We will send a t-telegram as soon as we arrive at the hotel.”
“You don’t understand.”
“W-Will you explain it to me?”
She sat quietly for several minutes, sipping her tea and staring at the spoon she’d used to stir in her sugar. She looked up at him finally with a resolved or resigned, and serious look on her face that he did not understand from this young woman. He’d met her and even escorted her into dinner at his friend Alexander Pendergast’s home who was married to her sister. She was a frivolous whirlwind of chatter on that evening, but that did not stop him from finding her the most beautiful woman of his acquaintance with a joyous light giggle that went straight to his gut. However, he was certain she would find nothing remotely interesting about him or his medical research, and the fact that sometimes he forgot to eat. His colleagues called his work brilliant. His mother called him a scatterbrain.
“There are men who want to harm us,” she said. “Did you know that my sister Elspeth was kidnapped before she married Alexander? She was! She was taken from us at a grand ball at Alexander’s family home!”
He shook his head, hoping she would explain. She leaned close to him, close enough that he could smell lilacs or some other aromatic that seemed to wrap around him but yet he could feel her panic.
“My father was the Earl of Taviston. There was a man, an illegitimate cousin, who claimed the earldom was his and he tried to kill my mother, stole my younger brother from us, and lobbied the governors who oversee such things in Scotland to give him the title and the wealth and the lands. My father was so concerned for the safety of his family that he brought us to America hoping to wait in safety until everything was settled and Plowman, the cousin, was jailed. But they murdered my father and mother on the passage here!” she hissed. “They poisoned their food, and they were buried at sea.”
She had tears in her eyes as she whispered to him, as if there were enemies all around.
“Why did they kidnap Mrs. P-Pendergast?”
“An exchange! They wanted us to turn over my brother Payden, the heir to the earldom,” she said with a trembling lip. “Elspeth knew her duty, though. She would die for him, as would any of us.”
“Die for him?”
“Had Alexander and my brother James not rescued her, she would have been . . . abused and murdered as we would never turn the rightful Earl of Taviston over to them.”
He sat back in his chair and stared at her. Good God! What a story!
“I thought you had an older brother,” he said remembering the looks he’d gotten from the man as he’d escorted his sister into dinner that night. He was a boxer and a champion, too.
“James? He is actually a cousin. His parents died when he was an infant, his mother was my father’s sister. Mother and Father took him in and raised him as their own.”
“But he’s not your true b-broth . . .”
She’d leaned across the table again but there were no tears this time, only a look that would have scared the most seasoned soldier. “James Thompson is my brother.”
He nibbled on some cheese and a cracker and