Chapter 38
I feel I have no choice remaining but to take my one last chance.
Wish me luck!
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Despite Glenrothes’ contention that they needed to talk, the silence hung heavily in the drawing room for several long minutes before the earl finally spoke.
“It might be a difficult thing to convince the bobbies that Ramsay is our man in this whole thing with only our unfounded speculation to substantiate it.”
Aylesbury nodded. “But then I rather doubt you and your brothers will be willing to wait for the authorities to take the lead in rounding him up.”
“Quite so.”
“I also doubt that is what you wanted to talk about,” he added without further prompting. “Why I’ll be wanting to have a hand in Ramsay’s apprehension is, though.”
“Is there something that you feel gives you the right?”
“Yes. I love your sister, Glenrothes.”
The earl’s fingers curled on the arm of the sofa, fisting before he stretched them out once more. “You can imagine being the youngest of eleven children and the only lass, that we are all very protective of our Blossom.”
“Fiona might say too protective, but I have a sister of my own, Glenrothes. I do understand.”
“It was hard enough to imagine a fellow having the nerve to ask my permission to marry her.” A finger tapped restlessly against the upholstery before the earl fisted his hand once more. “I’m finding it even more difficult to hear a man confess his love for her.”
“I understand,” Aylesbury nodded. “To you, she will always be a child.”
Glenrothes nodded curtly. “Does my sister...share this affection with you?”
He winced, repressing a sigh. “She hasn’t confessed as much in so many words, but I believe so.”
The finger was tapping again. “I want you to understand, Aylesbury, I’ve always had a good measure of respect for you.
You’ve been a friend to this family for a long while now, but when I see you come in here with her like that, when she clings to you.
..like that...when she has long shown nothing more for you than scorn, well, it makes me wonder what more might have happened.
In truth, I wonder why I’m still sitting here and not over there, beating you to a bloody pulp. ”
“I do love her, my lord.”
Glenrothes nodded stiffly. “That might be all that is saving you. But I also can’t help but wonder if there was something more to what happened between the two of you two years ago.
A fight, Blossom said. I had dismissed the matter because of her most disdainful dismissal of the event, but now.
..? Now I also wonder if something happened that should have prompted a more brotherly intervention on her behalf. ”
The words were calmly said, the threat vague and coolly delivered, but he was very aware that Glenrothes was at that moment angrier than Aylesbury had ever seen him. That beneath that calm, a man lurked with what might be murderous intent if the wrong word were said.
He tread carefully. “I was ever a gentleman, I promise you.”
Not a lie exactly, but certainly not the whole truth when gentlemanly intentions went astray.
“What was it then?”
“You must understand, Fiona’s youth and inexperience never escaped me, not for a moment. I was ever aware of her innocence.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But I want you to also understand how incredibly difficult it sometimes was not to...”
Glenrothes shifted, his anger succumbing to discomfort. “I don’t think I like where this is going.”
“And I would prefer not to travel this road either,” Aylesbury admitted. “But I feel I must. I can’t have you imagining the worst and envisioning my head on the proverbial platter.”
The earl closed his eyes for a moment as if begging for strength.
When that proved insufficient for him, Glenrothes rose, crossed to the sideboard, and poured himself a glass of what Aylesbury knew was the best Scotch whiskey to be had.
“I might need this to brace myself for what I’m about to hear you say. ”
Aylesbury chuckled. “I might need one just to say it.”
Glenrothes snorted but did pour a second glass before topping off his own. Joining the earl at the sideboard, Aylesbury took the glass and a welcoming sip.
There was a reason they called it Dutch courage. It gave a man the balls to do things he’d rather not.
To say things he’d rather not.
Fiona’s brother remained standing near the sideboard, so he did not resume his seat, though he did think to remove himself from the earl’s arm’s length...just in case.
“All right then, go ahead.”
It took a deep, fortifying breath and another longer sip of the whisky before he could speak. “That night of the ball at Haddington’s, I was out in the gardens ruminating upon my failure to secure a mistress for Aylesbury once again.”
“Ruminating?”
“I was fairly deep in my cups by that point,” Aylesbury clarified.
“In truth, I was also avoiding Fiona. She had been...pestering me. Pardon me, I hate to use that word, but she had moved beyond subtle hints—but she was pestering me for a dance that night. A waltz specifically, but I could not waltz with her.”
“Why...?” The earl paused as understanding struck, and he grunted. “So that’s how it was.”
“That’s how it was,” He nodded, tipping back his glass.
“I shouldn’t have been drinking as much as I was, all things considered.
You fellows do stock the finest whisky, though.
So I can perhaps blame you to some degree for what happened when Fiona found me out there in the garden as I was—as I said—fairly deep in my cups. ”