Ugh, no.
She was obviously delirious. She wanted nothing to do with these Scottish heathens. All she wanted was to hug Gwenys and take her safely back to London.
The Aberdeen wedding had not even been worth the trip, for it was the wedding of Gwenys’s younger stepsister, an odious girl who had married a Scottish baron and did nothing but sneer and taunt Gwenys throughout the celebration for having no beau of her own.
Miranda sighed.
Perhaps she had been too strict with Gwenys, keeping her from making her London debut because she needed to gain some maturity. The stepsister’s taunts had hurt the sweet girl so badly.
And yet she never once blamed Miranda for holding her back. If anything, Gwenys adored Miranda and considered her more as a mother than an aunt.
This only made Miranda feel worse.
Had her own miserable marriage—to a man who had done her the favor of dying in his mistress’s bed two years after they had wed—damaged her outlook toward men beyond repair?
And had she now damaged sweet Gwenys?
A tear spilled down her cheek.
Solway misunderstood the reason and blamed himself. “Och, Miranda,” he said in a raw whisper, sounding sincerely contrite. “Are ye crying, lass?”
“No.” But her sniffles revealed otherwise.
“Ye are, lass. Dinna deny it.” His voice still sounded raw and racked with remorse as her tears continued to fall. “This is an awful mess. But we’ll get it all straightened out, I promise ye. What can I do to ease yer distress? I canno’ bear to see ye so sad.”
“I am not sad,” she insisted in a shaky breath. “I’m just…miserable.”
“Because ye are in so much pain. I must take full responsibility. How do I fix this for ye?”
“No, not you. I am the one who needs to fix things.” Because she had treated Gwenys so shabbily…well, been too protective of her and not trusted the dear girl to make her own decisions.
Had she destroyed Gwenys’s confidence? Unfairly belittled her competence? Gwenys had never once complained.
Miranda cried more tears, not caring if he believed she was speaking gibberish when she tried to explain what she had done to her niece. How could she have been so haughty towardhimwhen so much fault lay with her?
She could not deny being unforgiving and casting blame on him while she had been as much of a beast toward Gwenys.
And yet Gwenys loved her and worshipped her.
How was she to make it up to the good-hearted girl who must be frantic with worry and crying her own river of tears for fear she had been injured?
Yes, poor Gwenys must be crying her heart out.
This was all her fault.
Should she not shoulder all of the blame for having donned Gwenys’s cloak and gone outside on her own to investigate? A woman armed with naught but a fire poker striding out of the inn alone during the wee hours without a thought to her own safety—was this not the height of folly? Certainly the height of ignorance in believing no one would dare harm a lady.
Why hadn’t she summoned the innkeeper instead and reported the noise?
Solway was still blaming himself.
But weren’theractions the true source of the blame?
Chapter Three
Bram had nosooner walked into the Lampton Inn with Miranda two days later when a pretty girl with golden hair and an enormous smile tore down the inn’s stairs and rushed toward Miranda. “Aunt Miranda! You’re back! What an adventure you had!”
“Gwenys! How areyou? I hope this ordeal did not terrify you.”
