Return of the Scot (Scots of Honor #1) - Eliza Knight Page 0,59
her think of Lorne’s hands on her as he bent her backward, his grin wide and satisfied. And the great, cold dousing of Aunt Beatrice’s chagrin, should she find out.
“I sent a man in that direction, miss, in hopes of finding her—and to be on the lookout for Master Gille, as it appears they were on the ship together.”
Jaime pressed her hands together in front of her heart. “And Gordie, please tell me ye know something of him?”
“It appears he was acting as the couple’s porter but did no’ appear in distress.”
“A porter,” Aunt Beatrice exclaimed, clearly distraught as she whipped out a fan, waving it rapidly as she sank deeper into her chair.
“Are they married?” Jaime asked. This was the one thing Lorne had not yet been able to find out.
“That’s where I’ve come from, miss. The traveling inn where I found the governess—
I checked the vicarage there and did find a marriage license for a Mr. Gille Gordon and his bride, Shanna Andrewson.”
How much easier it was to marry in Scotland than it was in England. If they’d been across the border, the two of them would have had to wait for three weeks while the banns were read, for they’d not have been able to get a special license, or at the very least, it would have been difficult. But in any case, she would have heard of it, had that been the case. Not in this instance, however. They’d simply walked to the nearest priest they could find and exchanged vows.
Jaime let out a long sigh, trying to keep the frown from her face. Trying to ignore her aunt’s increasing breaths.
“Married, my god.” Beatrice seemed due for a fit of the vapors from all the tut-tutting she was doing.
Jaime rose and went to the cellarette, pouring her aunt a thimble of whisky and one for herself. “Can I get ye anything, Mr. Bell?”
She handed her aunt the whisky, and Beatrice drank with vigor.
“Nay, thank ye, miss. I need to be getting home. Ye were my first stop on the way, and I’ve my family waiting for me to return. As soon as I hear from my men, I’ll be sure to let ye know what we’ve found.”
Jaime nodded, and MacInnes escorted the man out.
“I suppose this was something that was a long time coming,” Jaime mused, staring hard into the amber-colored spirits in her tiny cup. “And we can be glad he married her rather than abducting her.”
“A long time coming?” Aunt Beatrice finished her dram but still had the wild look of a hunted deer in her eyes. Really, the dramatics were too much.
“Aye, I’ve a feeling Gordie is actually Gille’s son.” Jaime tipped the cup into her mouth, letting it burn a path down her throat, relishing that little bit of punishment.
“A feeling? What makes you say so? That’s not true.”
“We may need to open our minds to the possibility, Aunt.”
Aunt Beatrice scrunched her nose in disapproval, and Jaime didn’t have the patience now, despite the whisky, to give her aunt any further information. Instead, she rose and went to the writing desk, penning a quick note to Lorne.
“If ye’ll excuse me but a moment, Aunt.”
“No, no, I think I shall retire. I’ve had quite a shock.” Aunt Beatrice rose. “It might be time for me to return to London, where I can quell some of the rumors before they run rampant.”
In other words, she didn’t want this news to reflect badly on her daughters, Jaime’s cousins, who were starting in society. Jaime had not seen them in a decade—by choice of her aunt and uncle, who didn’t want Shanna’s reputation to influence their own three daughters. This had rubbed Jaime the wrong way.
“Oh, that is a shame ye feel the need to leave, and we’ve been having such a lovely visit,” Jaime tried to keep her voice soft and sweet rather than elated. “But I understand. I will be sure to keep ye informed of all that happens.”