“I know,” he said.
Artemis watched him a bit closer. “Is that why you told Toss not to laugh?”
Scott’s shoulders squared. “They are welcome to laugh at me all they want. But so much as a titter in Gillian’s direction and I will pound the lot of them. Thoroughly and mercilessly.”
Her own father didn’t acknowledge her, but Scott was willing to go to battle for her. Only Artemis had ever done that.
“They’ll behave,” Artemis said. “I’ll make certain of it.”
“And their presence will give Mrs. Brownlow someone and something to enjoy and think about. That will allow you”—Gillian looked at Scott—“to leave for Thimbleby, like you’ve been meaning to.”
“Are you ridding yourself of me, Gillian?”
“You’ve had to remain longer than you wanted to, and I know being here has been a burden.” She was proud of her composure.If he’d had more of a choice in the matter, he’d have been in another county days ago. And yet, he’d kissed her. She was so confused. So overwhelmed. “I only want you to know you can leave when you want to now.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgment, a gesture that came a little too close to her father’s signature one.
She nodded, then made her way back to the house.
He could leave when he wanted. That was important. But it wouldn’t change the fact that when he did, her heart would break.
Chapter Eighteen
You can leave when youwant to.
It had been a long time since Scott had kissed someone. But he’d not ever had anyone respond to a kiss by telling him to make himself scarce. If Gillian was already anxious to be rid of him, it seemed he’d lost his touch. Or maybe he’d just misunderstood what he’d thought had been something more than a mere bit of flirting.
Whatever the reason, the outcome was the same. Gillian sat stoically in the drawing room, looking a little miserable and not truly interacting with anyone. And she’d told him he need not linger long at Houghton Manor.
Something had gone horribly wrong.
Artemis returned to the drawing room. “All is arranged. We will be staying here at Houghton Manor.” She sat on the settee.
“Excellent.” Charlie sat beside her and set his arm around her.
Toss joined Scott at the windows, a bit apart from the others. “Did Gillian really convince you to tell Mrs. Brownlow that we are all in love with her?” he asked quietly.
“Not in love with her, only that she was shockingly popular.”
“We all like Gillian.” He looked utterly baffled.
“I know. But Mrs. Brownlow is convinced her ward will live out her life completely alone, and to Gillian, it seemed that nothing short of portraying her as another Helen of Troy would set the lady’s mind at ease.”
“Why would Gillian be alone?” Toss seemed to find that as bewildering as Scott did. “Even if I thought she didn’t have any prospects—which Idon’t—she has the Huntresses. I’ve never met a group more loyal to each other.”
“I get the impression that when Gillian first came to Houghton Manor, life had beaten her down a bit. Her family had been struggling. Her mother had passed away. Her father, as far as Ican tell, has more or less disappeared from her life. It could be Mrs. Brownlow still sees Gillian as that vulnerable and lonely girl.”
Toss nodded. “I suspect my brother still thinks of me as being twelve years old, and not in a protective way. He treats me like a child.”
During his time at Brier Hill, Scott had come to know Thomas Comstock a little. He was hilarious, rivaling even Philip Jonquil for ludicrousness. He also had a good head on his shoulders. Conversations with him were far from frivolous. Underlying some of their more serious conversations had been Toss’s unending difficulties with his brother.
“I almost forgot.” Charlie hopped up off the settee and crossed to Scott before he held out a letter. “Mater sent this to Brier Hill.”
He took it eagerly. Mater’s letters had buoyed him for years. At times, they had been the only thing that had given him hope. He slipped from the drawing room and down the corridor to a chair.
My Dearest Scott,
I hope you are enjoying your time at Brier Hill.