How the Scot Was Won by Caroline Linden
14
Felix paced his sitting room for hours.
He had broken his pact with his father. He didn’t regret it, but it had not helped him know what to tell Agnes. Too late he realized he’d been too certain there was nothing to her fears for Mrs. Ramsay. He’d expected his father to confirm it and reassure him that he’d given Agnes the right advice.
Instead, Lachlan Duncan had told him that Sheriff Cockburn, frustrated in all his attempts to locate William Fletcher, was contemplating arresting Ilsa Ramsay to lure her father out of hiding. Cockburn suspected she had warned her father to flee, and Fletcher had sent his daughter a letter after his flight. It looked like a simple farewell note, but some in the sheriff’s office thought it was a coded message about his destination. The possibility was enough, just barely, to justify putting her in the Tolbooth for a few days.
The sheriff was already watching her house. If she tried to leave town, as Agnes believed she was planning, they would probably take her into custody.
God above, where the bloody blazes was Andrew St. James? Did Felix have to ride up to Fort George personally to fetch the man? If he wasn’t back by morning, Felix would have to take up vigil outside Mrs. Ramsay’s house himself.
But finally, a few minutes after midnight, the door flew open with a vehemence that almost extinguished the lamps. Grimy with dirt, gray-faced with exhaustion, Andrew St. James strode in.
It was barelylight out the next morning when a ferocious pounding woke him. Felix staggered to open the door and was nearly bowled over by the St. James girls. “Where is he?” cried Winifred and Isabella. Felix waved one hand. Agnes paused to lay her hand on his arm as her sisters rushed past.
“Thank you,” she said softly. He’d sent her a note late last night letting her know her brother had returned.
Still half-asleep, Felix nodded. He and St. James had been out disturbing officials and arguing with them until five in the morning—furiously enough to please even Agnes, he thought. “Leave him to it now.” He jerked his head toward St. James’s room.
“What can he do that you could not?”
He scrubbed his hands over his face. Lachlan’s intelligence about the sheriff’s intentions had indeed spurred St. James to immediate and extreme action. Agnes might not like her brother’s new expectations, but that ducal connection had been what got the sheriff and the procurator-fiscal’s deputy out of bed to speak to them in the wee hours of the night, and made them listen to St. James’s arguments in Ilsa Ramsay’s favor. Felix thought they’d persuaded everyone to leave the woman in peace, for now. “Win her confidence, for one thing. She’ll welcome his help when she rejected mine.”
“But what will he do?”
Before Felix could answer, the man himself staggered into the sitting room, two sisters at his heels. Unshaven, eyes bloodshot, plaid wrapped around himself like a winding sheet, St. James gave Felix an exhausted look and dropped into a chair.
“Drew, what are we to do?” asked Agnes at once. “We have to help Ilsa.”
“Aye,” he said groggily. “Give me a moment.” He reached for a discarded boot and missed. His sister kicked it toward him.
“What did you learn last night?” demanded Bella.
“Will they leave Ilsa alone?”
“What are you going to do?”
Wincing, St. James put his head in his hands. “Calm, mademoiselles,” said Felix. “Let us sit down—“
“Bother that!” cried Bella. “We’ve been expecting you for days and days, Drew, what took so long?”
“You’ve got to put a stop to this,” Winnie told him. “Immediately. Poor Ilsa!”
“You have no idea what she’s been through.”
St. James looked like he might collapse. Felix guessed he hadn’t slept in days—he certainly hadn’t slept last night. “Miss Winifred, Miss Isabella,” he tried again. “We’ll tell you what we learned, but first may I suggest you sit down?”
Agnes listened. She plunked herself on the sofa. “Winnie, Bella, sit down and let Drew speak.” When they did so, grumbling, she turned to their brother. “Go on.”
He sketched what they’d done overnight. Felix filled in details when his friend paused now and then for a jaw-cracking yawn. “And today I’ll call on Ilsa and form a plan, with her, about what to do,” he finished with a stern look at his sisters.
“She’s leaving town,” said Agnes.
Her brother shook his head. “She mustn’t. I’ll talk to her about that.”
“Talk!” Winnie shot back to her feet. “Is that all?”
St. James stifled another yawn behind one hand. “What would you have me do, Winnie? Run my sword through the sheriff?”
“Would you?” asked Bella hopefully.
“So they can both go to jail?” Agnes frowned at her.
“There must be something.” In frustration Winnie turned on Felix. “File a suit!”
“On what grounds?”
“It’s—it’s harassment!”
“Aye,” said Felix, “and perfectly legal if the sheriff suspects her of a crime.”
“She ought to leave town,” declared Bella as her sister gasped.
“No,” repeated her brother. “That would be very unwise.”
“Then you must stop her! Now!”
St. James sighed and gave Bella a weary look. “I’m trying…”
Winnie threw up her hands. “Men! Talk, talk, talk. Why have you got swords if you won’t use them for anything important?” She headed for the door, Bella scurrying after her.
“Agnes,” implored Felix. She paused, looking at him in apology, then ran after her sisters.
For a moment both men just stared at the empty doorway. “Bloody saints,” said St. James blankly. He grabbed his boots and lurched back into his room.
Felix followed. As St. James splashed water on his face and scrambled into his clothes, Felix stuffed a change of garments into a rucksack, holding it out as his friend buckled on his sword. “In case,” he said.
“You think she’ll flee today? Now?” St. James slung the sack over his shoulder.
“I think that’s why Agnes went with them. She thinks so.”
“Are you coming?” His friend was already striding toward the door.
“Nipping at your heels.”
The door slammed, and Felix rushed to get dressed.
When he reached the Ramsay house, a carriage was pulling away. The three St. James girls stood outside the house watching it go, clutching each other. At the sight of him, Agnes ran to his side. “We couldn’t stop her, but Drew got into the carriage with her.”
He nodded. “I knew he would.”
“You did? Why?”
Felix looked at her. She was beautiful in the morning sunlight, her hair tumbling loose and shining like onyx, her eyes so anxiously hopeful. “Because he's in love with her and he’ll stop at nothing to help her.” He gave her a faint, lopsided smile. “I know how that feels.”
Her glorious blue eyes widened as her sisters joined them. “What happened last night?” demanded Winnie. “Drew wouldn’t tell us anything.”
“You didn’t give him much chance,” Felix pointed out.
Winnie gasped, and Bella cried, “Oh, do tell us, Mr. Duncan. Why didn’t he stop her?”
“I believe he will. No doubt they’ll be home for dinner tonight. Give him time to hear her out and reason with her.” He held up his hands as they all began to protest. “And I will tell you all that passed last night. Might I entreat you to join me for breakfast while I do?” He caught Agnes’s eye. “Agnew’s coffeehouse makes the most delicious currant buns.”
“Yes, please!” Bella perked up.
“May we, Agnes?” put in Winnie eagerly. “What will Mama say?”
Felix watched Agnes, who stood gazing at him with adoration. God how he loved her.
“Of course,” she said softly to her sister’s question. “Mama won’t mind, when she hears we’re with Mr. Duncan. She knows we can trust him.”
