Chapter 19
Cameron did as he had promised. June had no cause to leave the room that night. He rang for a servant when they finally decided that food was in order. Much later, he summoned June’s maid and told her that her mistress would be leaving in the morning and would need some of her things packed.
If the poor, frightened little maid thought this was highly unusual, she said nothing of it. Merely nodded and scurried off to pack the trunks.
Of course, Cameron might have demanded the maid accompany them. Act as a chaperone of sorts. But he was nowhere that cruel.
And besides, the time for a chaperone was long past.
No, let the people talk. If June didn’t care, neither did he.
They would return to Scotland and perhaps he would arrange for a chaperone then, while he and Montague did all they could to make the annulment proceedings go as swiftly as possible. As soon as June was officially free, they would wed.
It would take months, perhaps years, for the scandal to die down.
But then, he was a duke and she’d be a duchess. It was incredible how much people could choose to forget when one had a title.
And besides, his lands were in an isolated part of Scotland, far from London, two days” journey from Edinburgh. The people could talk all they wanted. He and June would not be around to hear them.
In the morning, he had his carriage brought round. Some of June’s things had been packed up. Most would be shipped later on. She needed only a single case to travel, she had insisted. Cameron received the distinct impression she did not care one way or another if most of her possessions were left behind forever. But then, everything at Windermere must have held a memory.
It was very early when he escorted her downstairs. Rosy-fingered dawn was just beginning to peek over the horizon.
The house was quiet. Most of the houseguests must still have been sleeping.
This must, he thought with irony, have been the strangest house party they had ever attended. First the host had died before he could kill his wife, though which wife he had intended to kill no one would ever truly know for certain. Then their hostess had absconded with another guest for Scotland.
There would be much gossip to spread. He wondered if the Brazen Belle would even do another column on him.
But no, it was the unmatched rakes she seemed to prefer.
Still, for a moment, Cameron considered trying to track the woman down and sending her a thank-you-note. After all, the Brazen Belle’s column had helped to set things on track.
Outside by the carriage, a man and a woman were waiting.
June paused, her hand still in Cameron’s. “Mrs. Pembroke!”
The matronly lady beamed. She was really a pretty lady, Cameron thought. Her eyes shone with cleverness and there was a lively tinge of pink to her cheeks. Her daughter was taller and narrower, but was fortunate to resemble her mother greatly in other ways.
Beside Mrs. Pembroke stood Sir Montague. He was splendidly dressed as usual, despite the early hour, and smiling genially.
Cameron was a little surprised to still find the man there. After all, Montague would not be inheriting Windermere anytime soon.
But suddenly Cameron wondered if the man really cared. After all, he had seemed quite content when they first met.
“Not off yet, Montague?” he said quietly as the women began to chatter.
“Oh, not yet.” Was it Cameron’s imagination or had the baronet’s cheeks reddened slightly? “I find there is a little more business to wrap up before I depart.”
“Business?” Mrs. Pembroke’s head turned their way. “Is that all I am to you?” She gave a faux pout, but Cameron could see a smile hiding beneath.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Cameron asked, astonished.
“Mrs. Pembroke and I wished to see you off this morning,” Sir Montague said. “Not only so that I might update you on the state of things, but so that we might issue a personal invitation.”
“Invitation?” June said. “Invitation to what?”
“An invitation to our wedding,” the baronet explained. “We are to be married in a month’s time.” He cleared his throat and his cheeks were distinctly pink. “You seem surprised, Your Grace.”
Surprised was an understatement. Cameron had every reasonable expectation that the only wedding which Montague would be telling him about would be one between him and the younger Miss Pembroke.
“I dinna…” Now it was Cameron’s turn to be embarrassed. “Not at all, mon. I wish ye every happiness.”
“Aha! You thought I had my eye on the younger Miss Pembroke, did you not?” Sir Montague said impishly.
“I may have mistakenly formed that impression,” Cameron admitted. Then his eyes narrowed. “Or it was mistakenly given to me.”
Montague threw back his head and laughed. “I admit, it was only too easy to put the idea in your head.”
Cameron scowled. “When I recall our first conversation, I believe I could be forgiven for taking ye at yer word.”
“You mean when I said a few very indiscreet things about your own lady?” Sir Montague winked. “I admit, I was attempting to draw you out.”
“Draw me out?” Cameron blurted.
The baronet nodded. “To see which side you would be on, should it come to that. Of course, it became very clear very quickly that you were not a fan of the late earl.”
“Certainly not,” Cameron muttered. “Why did ye come here in the first place Montague?”
The baronet shrugged. “I admit, my curiosity had been whetted by my cousin, who I was meant to accompany. He had speculated on a number of things concerning the earl. When he passed, I was grief stricken for we had been rather good friends. I decided a distraction was in order. By attending the party at Windermere, I could not only see a property I someday might inherit but take the measure of the earl and see if there was anything to my cousin’s speculations.”
“Ye came to play detective,” Cameron summarized.
“It was easy enough to establish the earl’s relationship with his cousin and the parentage of the dowager’s children by asking a few questions of the servants and locals. But it was only when Mrs. Pembroke came to me the night before last and mentioned a certain book that had been seen in Horatia Fairchild’s home that I began to realize just how convoluted and sinister a conspiracy the earl had orchestrated.”
“How did you get your hands on the book?” June asked, overhearing. She and Mrs. Pembroke moved to stand closer to the men.
“I have my Caroline to thank for that,” Montague said modestly. “We were out for a late walk last night, you see.”
“After you had told me you were going to bed early!” June exclaimed, looking at Mrs. Pembroke.
“This was rather urgent, my dear, as I’m sure you’ll agree,” Mrs. Pembroke said.
“Indeed. As we were out for our stroll,” the baronet continued. “Caroline happened to twist her ankle quite badly.” He winked at them both. “We were forced to detour to the dowager’s home. She and the children were already asleep, unfortunately. But a servant kindly showed us into the dowager’s sitting room.”
“I distracted the maid by moaning and groaning over my ankle while Monty rummaged through that hussy’s desk drawer,” Mrs. Pembroke explained.
“Monty?” Cameron’s lips twitched.
“A pet name,” Mrs. Pembroke clarified. “Well, then Monty slipped the book into his coat and my ankle suddenly felt much better.”
“Caroline helped me question the servants when we returned to the manor and then she went to bed while I took a late night drive to see Mary and Donald, as you already know.” The baronet met Cameron’s eyes. “And now my turn for a question. Why did you not shoot Windermere with the dueling pistol in your hand? Why reach for a knife?”
“I didna trust the earl’s pistol,” Cameron admitted. “The mon looked all too pleased with himself yesterday morning. And his second had a furtive, nervous look in his eyes. Either Drummond was simply a frightened weasel or the earl had convinced him to do something he wasna quite comfortable with.”
“You thought the pistol had been tampered with, in other words,” the baronet said.
Cameron nodded.
The baronet exchanged a look with Mrs. Pembroke.
“And you were right,” Mrs. Pembroke said quietly. “We took a look at the pistol.”
“The powder had been deliberately wet and sand had been mixed in besides,” the baronet said.
June gasped.
Cameron stared. “I was right.”
The baronet nodded. “You were.”
“Then ye saved my life,” Cameron said slowly. “By bringing the book. By trying to stop us.”
The baronet tried to look modest. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that.” He slapped Cameron on the shoulder. “Let us speak of lighter matters. Did you ever think we’d both be leaving here with brides, Your Grace?”
Cameron looked over at where June had begun talking with Mrs. Pembroke. She was smiling happily, her cheeks glowing rosy pink.
The bruises on her body would fade. Some day there might even be other children for them both to care for and cherish.
After all, the rest of their lives lay ahead of them.
“Never,” Cameron answered honestly. “Never in a thousand years.”
The baronet laughed and June turned her head.
“Come,” Cameron told her. “It’s time we left this place. It’s a long way to Scotland.”
He took her hand to help her into the carriage, then settled beside her and waved as the baronet and Mrs. Pembroke called their good-byes.
“A long way to Scotland,” June repeated contentedly, leaning against him. “But the journey leads home with you by my side. And that sounds perfectly wonderful to me.”
THE END