Page 18 of Scandal with a Sinful Scot

“I caught her and Jonas in the gatehouse, kissing. Very ardently, I may add. In actuality, I found Megan…your…our fourteen-year-old daughter—she is fourteen?” Abbie turned to face him and nodded. “I found her sitting on Jonas’s lap, kissing him far more enthusiastically than she should. He is twenty-four, and, from what I observed, reacted physically, as a young man would to a passionate kiss. It was plain to see, as he had removed his coat.”

Abbie’s hands flew to her cheeks. “Oh, no.”

“I heard the conversation. She said she loves him, that in a few years they will be married. She can’t be around him. Can’t be anywhere near him. Surely you must agree.”

A knock. The door opened and Megan peered in. She had removed her bonnet and her long red hair fell to her shoulders. Garrett stepped away from Abbie. God, his daughter. The resemblance in their physicality was stark indeed, including the eye color and abundance of freckles. But he could see Abbie there as well, in the shape of the face, the jawline, the contour of her mouth. His heart tumbled at the sight of her. “I heard yelling. Is he upsetting you, Mama?” Megan glared at him accusingly.

“The conversation became a little…emotional. I am fine. Come in, Megan. Come meet your father.”

The girl glowered at him, a mulish expression on her face. No doubt as stubborn as both her parents. She stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. “My father died close to two years ago.” Yes. Stubborn. Already he adored her. “I am sorry, sir, but I will not call you Father.”

Garrett nodded. “I understand.” He did, but her matter-of-fact statement hurt nonetheless. “Your mother told me Dr. Hughes was a good man. I’m heartily glad he was in your life, and thankful he was your da. I certainly don’t wish to take his place, but I would like us to get to know each other.” He removed his glove and held out his hand. “I am Garrett Wollstonecraft. It is nice to meet you, Megan Hughes.”

Unshed tears glittered in Abbie’s eyes as she watched the exchange. Hell, he felt like crying as well. Megan took tentative steps toward him. He did have an imposing physical presence, and he certainly didn’t want the lass to be afraid of him. She slipped her slender hand in his. “Hello, Mr. Wollstonecraft.” Her tone was cool, but polite. Perhaps it was the best that he could hope for under the circumstances.

Garrett clasped her hand with both of his. “When you are comfortable, call me Garrett. Will you?”

She shrugged, clearly flustered. The awkwardness between them was noticeable. And because of it, it was best he made his exit. He released Megan’s hand and slipped his glove on. “I should make for home. I need to inform the family of these developments.”

“Yes, of course,” Abbie murmured.

“If you will allow, I would like to return tomorrow morning in order for us to continue our conversation.” Abbie nodded. “Then I will see you about nine o’clock.” He bowed slightly, then exited the room, though his legs trembled with each step he took.

A daughter. He had a daughter. Elation mixed with trepidation. He still could not accept the fact that Abbie never told him. Perhaps her reasons were sound. Maybe they would make sense once he wrangled control of his wayward emotions. They had parted all those years ago on a sour and bitter note. They were far too young and irresponsible. But they both were going on thirty-three years of age. Far past time to admit wrongs, and perhaps time to examine everything he had ever believed in.

Once he returned to the hall, Garrett located Julian sitting alone in his darkened room. He swiftly strode across the carpeted floor and flung open the curtains. “Enough damned brooding, Brother. You’ve been in here feeling sorry for yourself for days. Shouldn’t you have returned to parliament by now?”

“We are awaiting Peel’s decision on when to reconvene, which could be later in February,” Julian muttered.

“I need you. Come to the library immediately,” Garrett demanded.

Julian blinked rapidly, adjusting to the light flooding through the window. “What is it?”

“Only the fact that our lives are going to change from this moment forward. Well, mine more than any other. I need all hands on deck. Where is our father?” Garrett didn’t wait for an answer. He stepped into the hall and bellowed, “Gordon, Peter, Thomas…one of you, come at once!”

The youngest footman, Thomas, appeared. “Yes, Master Garrett?”

“Where is the earl?”

“Napping in his room, sir.”

“Then rouse him at once and inform him that I wish to see him in the main library, right away, lad. Go.”

Julian stood. “Now I’m starting to worry. Tell me this has nothing to do with Aidan. I cannot take any more dreadful news.”

“No, not Aidan. I should have clarified at the beginning. I beg your pardon.”

Julian blew out a relieved breath. “You are right about one thing: I’ve brooded long enough. I wanted to ask if you would come with me to see Riordan. I started to write I don’t know how many letters, but I’ve come to the conclusion that I should tell him about Aidan in person.”

Damn. “I don’t believe I should. The reason will become clear as soon as I explain.”

“Of course,” Julian replied.

They both headed to the main library and found their father rubbing his eyes. “What is it?” he asked sleepily. Julian and the earl took a seat; Garrett remained standing.

“Oh, hell. He’s pacing,” Julian muttered.

“I have a daughter. Her name is Megan,” Garrett blurted. Both his father and his brother stared at him as if he had sprouted a second head. “I had no idea of her existence. She is fourteen, soon to be fifteen, I imagine, and is with her mother at Alberta Eaton’s residence.”