Chapter 4 #3
“She was. She saw the man running from the house and tackled him.”
“She what?” A cough racked her lungs, stealing her breath for a moment before she continued. “She wasn’t even supposed to be there!”
“Yes. That is a topic for another day.”
“Was she injured?”
“Other than a black eye and a bloody nose, she appears to be fine. Astley says she saved your life while ‘his worthless servants worried about saving his damned study.’ His words, not mine,” she mused. Iseabail’s mockery of her husband’s best friend was always welcome.
“Was she the one to throw water on me?”
Iseabail chuckled, but there was little mirth in her laugh.
“No, after losing the suspect she returned to see the fire. She went in to help and saw your gown on fire. She chose to tackle you to the floor. She said she was scared you would start running and no one would catch you before you were an inferno.”
“I wouldn’t have run.” She was too busy fighting her sister. God, she must be insane to think her sister was a man attempting to hurt her.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.” Not really, but Iseabail didn’t need to know that. She stirred her tea before asking, “Was Robbi seriously hurt?”
“Do you mean did she receive any burns?” When Caillen nodded, Iseabail shook her head. “You were both lucky on that accord. Just a few minor burns on the back of your legs. Robbi’s britches suffered the most damage.”
“She was wearing britches?”
“That’s what she always wears when she sneaks out of the house at night. It seems her boyish nickname fits.”
“But she was wearing a gown when she left for home.”
“Chances are you’ll find her dress in the bushes at Astley House. She wears trousers underneath on most days.”
She took another sip of her tea; the honey was having a remarkable effect on her throat. “I imagine Ross was fit to be tied.”
“If she hadn’t been injured as she was, he would still be lecturing her.”
“He’s hardly her father.” That was the absolute wrong thing to say.
Iseabail stood up, her stature taking on a regal quality Caillen had never seen.
Yet it had been years since they’d been together.
She supposed a woman who was on her second ducal marriage and about to have her second child would be quite different than the young girl of fourteen she’d been when they’d hugged goodbye.
“He is the man of the household and her benefactor—”
“She doesn’t need a benefactor. I can provide for her.”
Iseabail’s countenance stiffened once more. “Do you forget that he provided your dowery as well?”
Caillen blinked. “I assumed that came from you upon the death of your first husband, since Ross told me he would not provide a dowery if I eloped.”
“He was attempting to stop you from making a mistake.”
“He did a poor job of it,” she grumbled unfairly.
Iseabail eyed her speculatively. “Do you regret your marriage?”
Yes. If they had waited to gain Ross’s approval, they would have never been on the road back from Gretna Green and everything would have been different. And yet, she could never regret Dorian. “I would go through three times as much pain to have Dorian in my arms, so no.”
Iseabail nodded slowly. “You didn’t tell us you had a child. Would you have, if Mr. Forrester hadn’t run across you at your in-laws’ home?”
“In due time.” Iseabail stood next to her bed, and it took all of her resolve not to flinch away from her closeness.
“What happened?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I know Bredlebane was killed, but what happened that would make you reject the love of your own family?”
She hadn’t rejected anyone, had she? She took another sip of tea before she responded. “I could not come to terms with Bredlebane’s death. Surely you of all people can understand how difficult the passing of a spouse can be?”
“Of course, I just—”
“I don’t wish to discuss it further. Will you allow Robbi to come and stay with me, or not?”
“No.”
Caillen narrowed her eyes. “You lived separately from the rest of your sisters for almost nine years and then out of nowhere, the Dowager Duchess of Ross appeared at our doorstep a little over a year ago and offered to sponsor us in London. It had been exciting and new for five young women who’d dreamed of a having Season, so we poured into her carriages without a second thought.
All because she said she had your blessing.
We came to London because of you, and now you won’t let Robbi stay with me—the sister who has taken care of her most of her life?
” She sounded like a recalcitrant child, but she needed to know Robbi was not only okay, but flourishing.
The ton was not what was best for her youngest sister.
“She needs to prepare for her Season.”
“She doesn’t need a Season. The ton gave the rest of us the cut direct or made snide comments about our parentage to our faces.
The first ball Máira, Ailsa and I attended, our dances included wandering hands and propositions we hadn’t understood, but knew the other debutants weren’t forced to endure.
Ross didn’t witness the worst and we had agreed not to tell him because we didn’t want him to call some lord out. ”
“Ross would have defended your honor.”
“At what price?” She asked. “Murder, maiming, or banishment? Which would you have preferred for the man you loved?” It was mean and wrong, and Iseabail paled at the thought. Yet even Caillen’s sore throat couldn’t stop her from continuing.
“Our second ball was a repeat of the first, and by our third, I’d given up on the ladies and gentlemen of the ton.
That was the night I met William. He was handsome and gallant, he nearly broke a viscount’s arm when the gentleman had cornered me in an alcove on my way back from the retiring room.
The viscount had refused to let me leave without the payment of a kiss.
” At the time, the predicament had confused her into silence.
She’d never dreamed a Season to be like that.
“My husband grabbed him by the arm, twisted it behind his back and shoved him into the wall. Hard.
“He was my hero, not Ross.” Bitterness tinged her words, yet she couldn’t shut it down despite knowing how awful she was being to her pregnant sister she hadn’t seen in years.
“As a newly minted baron who existed on the outskirts of the ton due to earning his title on the battlefield, he was as lost as I was. He saved me that night from Viscount Weldon. I don’t want Robbi to experience the same type of assault from a gentleman. ”
She shook her head, burying the past where it belonged. She hated how hindsight could open one’s eyes to the truth of their circumstances. The Blair sisters should have never come to London. Yet she would never regret Dorian.
“You were not here when we made our debuts in society. You do not understand what the ton is like.”
Iseabail laughed. “Do you think I have not suffered their distain in the same manner as you?”
Caillen looked down at the pleats in the clean shift she didn’t recall putting on. “I know you have been ridiculed and mocked—”
“And groped and propositioned.”
Her gaze shot to her sister’s. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me correctly. I have been subjected to the same treatment you, Máira and Ailsa were, and that is why I am determined to ensure Edeen and Robbi do not endure it in silence as the four of us have done. As it is, Ailsa and I have made strides to ensure neither are treated poorly ever again.”
“You told Ross?”
“Of course not. Can you imagine how many men he would have to murder?”
“How many?”
“Are you counting bodies before he piles them up?”
“No. I’m wondering how many sods you’ve saved from certain death.”
“From what Máira and Ailsa have told me, the five gentlemen the three of you encountered along with the three I encountered.”
“Eight members of the ton? I don’t think even a duke could get away with that many murders.”
“As it turns out, two of the gentlemen were already accounted for among the knotty-patted fools the three of you encountered, but you are correct. Six murders of the peerage would be frowned upon by our Regent. Especially when the murders would be done in the name of the scandalous sisters.” Iseabail puckered her lips and gave a saucy waggle of her brows as she mimicked the ton talking about the Blair sisters, and Caillen couldn’t help but laugh until she coughed.
And remembered Astley. “How is he?”
“Who?”
“Astley.”
Iseabail sighed. “Ross said the fire has exhausted him. Since we had already believed Astley was not long for this world, Ross thinks his condition is nothing short of a miracle.”
She shoved the bedding to the side and swung her feet to the floor. “I must go to him.”
“What?”
“Astley needs me.” And she needed to know who was attempting to destroy the evidence Astley had about their father’s death.
“His servants can take care of him now. You have a family.”
“Do you have a gown I can borrow?”
“Slow down, Caillen. Astley is fine.”
She turned on her sister. “He is not fine! The man was tortured for months for something related to our fa—” She closed her eyes and began coughing, wave after wave assaulting her chest and throat as she sat at the edge of the bed.
An arm slipped around her shoulder, but she shrugged it away, unable to bear even her sister’s loving touch. Iseabail remained at her side as she leaned over to breathe in the fuming pot’s steam.
“Better?”
She nodded, adjusted herself on the bed, and accepted the cup of tea.
“It’s the middle of the night. Let Astley rest. You can go first thing in the morning.”
It made sense to let him get the rest he needed and, if she were being honest, she needed to rest as well. Her eyes grew heavy and her hand wobbled with the teacup. Iseabail reached over and took the cup.
She was assailed by an onslaught of fatigue. “Did you drug me?”
“Yes, I put laudanum in your tea.”
“That’s a dirty trick,” she said as she rested her head on the numerous pillows in the bed.
“Yet, it was necessary. You need to rest.”
She yawned as her eyes drifted closed. “I will return the favor.”
“I have no doubt, dear sister.”