CHAPTER THIRTEEN

DAVID LED ELIZABETH BACK TO the principal ballroom, where the music was more genteel and the dancing less boisterous. There was already a country dance in full flow, which gave them a respectable reason for strolling around the ballroom instead of joining in.

Elizabeth checked over her shoulder more than once before she glanced at David and said softly, “I am not sure what to make of Lord Murdo.”

“What do you mean?”

“The way he distracted Alasdair.” She flushed as she admitted what they both already knew—that they had silently colluded, the three of them, so that David and Elizabeth could have a few brief minutes of privacy.

“In truth, I am not sure what to make of him either,” David replied. “He had no idea I wished to speak with you, other than by hearing what we said to one another before your husband arrived. But he must have concluded that it was important it should happen.”

“Why would he do that?”

David paused briefly. “He knows Kinnell. They were at school together.” He watched carefully for her reaction, noting that she flushed more deeply and looked away.

“He pretended you and I didn’t know one another. And that story about the King—”

“Actually that part is true. The King did invite me, and Lord Murdo was indeed asked to be my guide this evening.”

“But he pretended he didn’t know you either.”

David paused again. “Well, we do not know each other very well.”

“Well enough that he tells lies to help you.”

He ignored that observation. “Why did you seek me out, Elizabeth?”

She said nothing about his sudden, uninvited use of her Christian name, just looked at him with eyes that brimmed with unspoken misery.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I wanted to speak to someone familiar, I suppose. Someone from my old life. I’m worried about Father too. I wanted to talk about him with someone who knows him. Since I married, I’ve barely seen him, or my sisters.”

“He’s worried about you too,” David replied. “He asked me to watch out for you.”

“Did he?” she whispered. “Why?”

Their time together would be short. David did not have the luxury of tact tonight.

“He’s not well. And he believes you are unhappy, that you have been so since your marriage.”

Sudden tears welled in her eyes.

“Is it true?” David asked. “Is he right to be worried?”

The silence seemed to stretch unbearably until, at last, she whispered, “Yes. But what can I do?”

David felt sick. Somehow he had imagined she would not want to admit that she was being mistreated, that she would paste a bright smile on her face and tell him that everything was all right. Her admission about her position and her palpable fear undid him.

He placed his hand on top of her own where it rested on his sleeve. “Does he hurt you?” he asked quietly.

She didn’t look at him, but she nodded. “I hate him,” she whispered. “He is—cruel. I regret marrying him every single day. I didn’t know what manner of man he was.”

“I was surprised when I heard the news. You barely knew him before you were engaged.”

She gave a bitter laugh. “I was a fool,” she said. “I thought I cared for nothing anymore. I thought I was heartbroken and it didn’t matter who I married if I couldn’t have the man I wanted.”

David’s heart sank. She was speaking about him, he realised.

“I have no intention of taking a wife, Miss Chalmers.”

“I’m so sorr—”

“Please don’t apologise,” she interrupted. “It was dramatic and self-indulgent of me to throw myself away like that. Plenty of people warned me against marrying so hastily.” She gave another bitter laugh at that. “But I wouldn’t listen.”

David’s gut clenched. Even now, he had no real idea what Kinnell was capable of, but Elizabeth’s grim expression was telling him more than he wanted to know. And after this dance, David would have to deliver her back to the man. It was a thought that made his stomach churn with impotent anger.

“Do you remember my friend, Mr. MacLennan?” he asked now. “You met him the other day—”

“Yes, of course. He asked me if Alasdair had hurt me. I couldn’t believe his nerve.” She laughed, but it was a low, desperate noise.

“Euan is an unusual man.”

“And a radical,” she said bluntly.

“Yes,” David agreed gently. “He is a radical. He believes in equality, between the classes, and between men and women, amongst other things.”

“He told me that. He said—he said I should run away from Alasdair.”

David saw her pale throat bob as she swallowed.

“Do you want to?”

Her eyes flickered from side to side, fearful. “He will never let me go.”

“Do you want to leave?” David persisted.

“Yes!”

How could a mere whisper hold so much yearning? So much yearning and so little hope.

David tightened his hold on her hand. “Listen to me, then. Euan and I are both willing to help you. But your husband has rights over you. It would not be easily done.”

“I know.”

“So you would have to be willing to run away—far away—with nothing but the clothes you stand up in. To trust Euan to get you to London, where you can start a new life.” He paused. “You have to decide if your life with Kinnell is so bad as to be worth that kind of sacrifice.”

“It is,” she said, without hesitation. “But, my family… David, I don’t want to shame them!”

David shook his head. “Your father is already concerned about you, and—you must have realised this already—he is not well. I think it would comfort him to know you were away from Kinnell. I think he would make financial arrangements for you, if you asked him, or if I did so on your behalf.”

She looked suddenly afraid. Afraid to hope, perhaps.

“It would have to be soon,” she said. “We are due to leave for Galloway in just over a week’s time, and I do not want to go back there. I can’t go back there.” She shuddered as though at some unpleasant memory, and David’s stomach clenched again. He never wanted to learn what put that fear into her eyes.

“When are you alone?”

She sent him a despairing look. “Never. Alasdair is always there, or a servant. I am not allowed out without one of the footmen. When I came to your rooms with Catherine, it was the first time I’d been out without a servant in months, and that was only because, when I got to Catherine’s house, Donald told my footman, Fraser, to go to the kitchen while we had tea. Then Donald ordered the carriage to be brought round, and we left without him. It was Donald’s doing—he didn’t even think to fetch Fraser—but Alasdair turned Fraser off without a reference when we got back.” She paused. Swallowed again. “And I was punished.”

Her expression was haunted as she remembered whatever her punishment had been.

The music of the dance ended just then, and the dancers began to rearrange, some leaving the floor and others joining new sets.

“We should dance,” Elizabeth said. “If Alasdair comes in and we are strolling and talking, he will be angry.”

“Come on, then,” David said, turning around and leading her towards the nearest incomplete set. “We have another few minutes before you have to go back to him.”

“We are not going to be able to talk anymore,” she said, her voice breaking. “If I cannot even speak to you, how am I ever to get away from him?”

David squeezed her hand. “We will be able speak a little,” he said. “We will make a plan.”

The dance was a sedate one, with gentle passes and turns, light skipping and stately promenades. David questioned her about the rhythms of her household whenever they encountered one another in the dance. He asked her too about the events that she and Kinnell would be attending during the last week of the King’s visit.

Towards the end of the dance, on one of their passes, David felt Elizabeth stiffen. He followed her gaze and found Kinnell and Murdo standing together at the end of the dance floor, watching them.

“He’s back,” Elizabeth said despairingly.

David turned to her, as the dance demanded, and looked into her eyes. “Listen to me,” he said. “This is what we are going to do. You’re going to the theatre on Tuesday, aren’t you? You must be ready to leave then, that very night, in the clothes you are wearing. I will speak with your father about money for you. I will also speak to Euan about arrangements for getting you to London. Are you willing to travel with him to a safe place?”

The dance parted them. They turned away from each other to stroll down parallel lines of the set, coming to face one another once more at the end.

“If you trust Mr. MacLennan, I will trust him too,” she said.

Did he? Did he trust Euan MacLennan?

He thought of his history with Euan. Two years ago, Euan had held him at gunpoint and threatened to put a bullet in him. But he hadn’t done it—and his every action had been for his brother and his beliefs. There was no greed in Euan, no selfishness. He was passionate and idealistic. Impetuous and perhaps somewhat naïve, but a good man.

“A man will fight for hate for a long time, but he will fight for love to the death.”

“I would trust him with my life,” David said simply. He’d done it once before.

“Then I will trust him too,” she whispered as she curtsied to him, ending their dance. “And I will be ready on Tuesday, at the theatre. What time will it happen?”

David bowed to her, thinking quickly. “Half past nine,” he said. The play would be well underway by then. “Get away from Kinnell, however you can. And make your way to the front door. I will try to get a ticket so I can meet you inside, but even if I cannot, I will find you. I promise.”

“Half past nine,” she said. “Pray, do not fail me.”