Return of the Scot (Scots of Honor #1) - Eliza Knight Page 0,29

used to hold all her secrets. Perhaps now was a good time to open herself up and let her worries out. She had to talk to someone. Her insides were so coiled into knots, she was afraid she’d wake up twisted. “I am too. I have no’ heard from Shanna, and she’s about to become destitute again.”

“Is that why ye went to see the duke and he ye?” Giselle edged cautiously to stand beside Jaime.

“Partly, aye. He also wants his castle back.”

“That was quite a coup.” Giselle grinned, obviously having taken pleasure in reading about the sale.

Jaime frowned. “An illegal one, it would seem.”

Giselle peeked out the window. “What really happened all those years ago—between the duke and your sister?”

Jaime had only been sixteen when her sister was defiled and betrayed by the duke, and Giselle only thirteen, understanding even less. Their parents hadn’t shared much, and as young lasses do when denied the confidences of older debutantes and society ladies, they made up whatever came to mind from the bits and pieces they’d heard. The stories Jaime had heard, repeated by Giselle, were outrageous, and if she’d been in a better mood, quite hilarious. One such rumor had been that the duke had decided to run off with a traveling circus, and another that Shanna had discovered him in flagrante delicto with not one but three ladies from the theater. Of course, none of these came close to the truth.

“Plain and simple. They were engaged to wed, and he convinced her that his promise of marriage alone was enough for them to consummate their union. But as soon as she was with child, he left her. End of story.”

Giselle wrinkled her brow. “That is odd, is it no’?”

“It is the worst kind of betrayal.”

“But do ye no’ think it strange? Why would he propose to her, spoil her and dump her? He’s a duke, after all, and a member of Parliament. A war hero. Why would he risk so much of his reputation to get into her skirts when he could have had any woman in Scotland and England—or in the rest of the world, for that matter?”

Jaime pursed her lips. No one had ever put so succinctly into words the very thought she’d had more than once.

But she came back to the same conclusion each time. “I have to trust my sister’s word.”

Giselle nodded. “Aye, for why would she lie?”

Another question Jaime had asked herself and come up empty. “There is no doubt that she had a child. Gordie is proof of that. And I think he looks the spitting image of the duke.”

“Oh, my. Then he is most certainly the father.”

“Aye.” There was no doubting it. Yet, the prickling questions that had been gnawing at Jaime for years never seemed to rest.

They returned to the couch, each of them picking up a scone to nibble.

“Have ye ever thought—never mind.” Giselle gave a little laugh, putting a spot of clotted cream on her scone.

“Thought what?”

“I was going to suggest asking the duke for his version, but it would be quite improper. Or perhaps ye already have.”

“No, I have no’, but I’ve thought about it. And it’s as improper as me showing up on his doorstep.” Lot of good that had done her. It seemed when the two of them were together, all they did was split hairs, rather than move forward with what either of them wanted accomplished.

“I had heard about that. And given he tossed ye out for all to see, perhaps he owes it to ye to answer your questions.”

“The man does no’ believe he owes me anything. He is demanding I return the deed to the castle and has yet to reimburse me for the sale.”

“That’s odd. Does he truly want it back?”

“I have no doubt.” Jaime lifted the teapot to refill their cups.

“Hmm.” Giselle sipped from her replenished cup. “Men are so strange.”

“They truly are.” And maddeningly insufferable, especially the Duke of Sutherland. She glanced toward the door of the drawing room, half-expecting to see him barrel through it with more of his nonsense. Lord, she wouldn’t mind if he did, so she could give him another piece of her mind.

“Another reason I’m willing to put off another season without an engagement. Much to Mama’s disappointment.”

“I never want to marry,” Jaime agreed. Her stomach tightened at the thought, and she decided to change the subject. “Do tell me who made your dress. It is divine.”

Giselle smoothed a hand over the silken frock. “Oh, aye,