What a Spinster Wants - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,94
would see. His visits would usually consist of him berating her, touching her, taking a rough kiss or two, and then busying himself with drinking and eating and sleeping.
Edith did not fight it. Did not fight him. She was without feeling anymore, resigned to her fate. She could only hope that he would tire of her soon.
Still, she did not regret her choice. She loved Molly as if she were her own child and would have sacrificed herself to a fate far worse than this to save her. But in doing what she had, Edith effectively had distanced herself from her friends forever.
And from Graham.
There was no thought of him that was not an equal blend of the bitter with the sweet. Her dreams were filled with him, and she woke to tears every morning. What a life she might have had, if only things had been different!
But there was no use in wishing such things. She could cling to memories, but not live in them.
She was on her own now.
A pounding on the door brought her from her thoughts, her heart leaping anxiously into her throat. She rose quickly and flattened herself against the wall while Owen, armed as he usually was now, moved to the door.
“Ye muckle gomeral, dinnae point tha’ thing so near my face.”
Edith gasped, her eyes widening at the blessed sound of the one person she knew was not permitted to cross the threshold.
“Dinnae tempt me, an’ ye willna have aught to worry aboot,” Owen growled, though the tone was without any threat at all. “An’ what in the Devil’s purple arse is tha’?”
“If it was fer ye, I’d explain. As it is…” Strong footsteps clomped in the corridor, and then Lachlan was before her in the parlor, expression serious, his frame thinner than when she had seen him last.
“Lachlan,” Edith gasped, still flat against the wall in shock.
Lachlan eyed her for a second, his shoulders dropping on an exhale. “Edie.” He whistled sharply then, and another sound in the corridor met her ears.
A great, brown bloodhound sauntered into the room, his ears drooping as much as his face. He glanced at Edith blearily, then came to her and dropped himself at her feet.
“Rufus?” Edith stared at the animal in shock, recognizing him from occasional visits with the Spinsters to Miranda Sterling’s home. Then she looked back at her brother. “What the devil?”
Silently, her brother handed over a note, and Edith opened it quickly.
Dearest girl, I cannot be with you during this terrible ordeal, but I can send my sweet boy to you for companionship, comfort, and protection. Know that my heart and prayers come with him. Do not lose hope.
It was signed by Miranda Sterling. Edith stared at the name, sniffing back sudden tears.
They hadn’t forgotten her.
Of course, they wouldn’t, but absolute seclusion could play the very worst tricks on a mind.
Edith stooped and scratched Rufus behind his ears, murmuring softly in Gaelic until the dog seemed to sigh deeply. She grinned, then stood and faced her brother.
“So. You’ve met Miranda.”
Lachlan raised a bushy brow. “I’ve met so many people in the last weeks, I can barely remember my own name.”
“And how did they take you?” she asked. “Well?”
“Well enough. I’m no saint, but I’m no’ the devil.” He smiled at last and almost looked himself. “But what about ye, Edith? I have heard all sorts of things about you. A mistress to Sir Reginald? At his beck and call? His devoted slave for all eternity?”
She shuddered and looked away. “Only partially correct. I am no’ his mistress in truth, and I am no’ a devoted slave. But I am a slave of sorts, and I am at his beck and call.”
“I ken. And it is why I am here.”
“Why are you here?” she repeated, entirely confused. “What in the world have ye to do with any of it? Ye are hardly in a position to change my reputation for the better.”
He shrugged once. “Who says I am going to?”
Edith sighed in irritation, not caring for the mysterious tone in his voice. “Why are ye here?”
“Other than delivering the mongrel?” He gave her a rather serious look. “Did ye really think I was going to let my sister endure such a man and such behaviors without doing something? I may be a drunk and a cad and a wastrel, but nobody abuses my family.”
Edith folded her arms. “Except fer yerself.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Ye know what I mean. Ye need help, and I