Page 22 of Wouldn’t it Be Scottish?

Before she could begin to explain what had happened, her father was demanding to know where she had been. Then Richard began babbling about the picnic party believing she and Donal had drowned during the storm.

“We were about to start a search when we realized your boat had been returned,” her father interrupted, “and then we noticed that the carriage was gone.”

“You could have been abducted,” Richard said dramatically, with a telling look at Donal.

“Where were you, my dear?” Her father was holding her hands almost painfully in his own as he peered down into her face as if expecting to discover some terrible wound. To Agatha’s consternation, he looked as if he had aged ten years.

“Father,” she finally managed to get a word in. “Please, please don’t concern yourself. I am unhurt. Nothing happened. Well . . .” She looked over her shoulder at Donal, who had come to stand behind her and didn’t seem to know what to say either. “The rain made us so wet that we could not continue with the picnic, so we went to Susan’s house. Do you remember my friend Susan? She lived nearby and I thought she would help me. I was very wet.”

“We were both very wet,” Donal added. “Impossible to go to the pavilion in our condition.”

“You could have told me,” Kilsyth said, frowning. “Didn’t you think I would worry, my dear?”

“We didn’t think it would take so long,” Agatha wailed. “When we reached the house, Susan wasn’t there, and the housekeeper told us she and her family are away. But she was kind enough to let us in and dry us off, only then the rain wouldn’t stop and—”

At that moment Richard cut in. “You know it is all over London?”

Agatha’s mind went numb. Before she could find words, Donal spoke up. “What is all over London? The housekeeper and her husband will corroborate our story. We dinna have anything to fear.”

Richard met Donal’s gaze, his own darkening. Was he jealous? Why should Richard be jealous when he had rejected her? “Lord Donal’s brothers have not been forgotten,” he said in a hard voice. “Members of the ton still speak of them. Do you really think society will believe your absence with Lord Donal was innocent? With his brothers’ scandals still fresh in their minds?”

“I am not my brothers,” Donal reminded him in a voice every bit as hard as Richard’s. The two men glared at each other like dogs about to fight.

Dear God, in a moment they would be demanding satisfaction by dueling in the street! Speaking of which . . . Agatha looked about her and noticed with dismay that there were faces at windows and even some of their neighbors at their front doors, watching as if this was the latest theatre extravaganza.

“This is so unfair!” she burst out, feeling herself on the verge of tears.

“Hush, my dear. Come inside.” Kilsyth took her arm, leading her into the house. She looked over her shoulder and was glad to see Donal following. She was not so glad to see Richard behind him.

Agatha turned to face her former beau. “Why are you here?” she asked him accusingly.

He shuffled self-consciously. “I was worried,” he said. “When it was noticed you were missing, I thought you had drowned. No matter what has happened between us, I would not want ill to befall you!”

He did look as if he were telling the truth. They had been friends for a long time, even if there would never be anything more between them. She was quite certain of that.

“You had no right to be worried,” she said, probably unfairly. “You gave away any rights you had over me when you chose Miss Elliot.”

Richard opened his mouth again, only to be interrupted by her father.

“Stop it, Agatha. Richard brought Miriam and me home when we discovered the carriage was missing. We were very concerned, and so was everyone else at the picnic.”

Speechless, Agatha looked at Donal and wished she could fall into his arms and have him hold her. It was what she needed right now, but if she did, then Richard would see it as proof of his suspicions.

“It was the weather,” Donal said, not looking away. “We can hardly be blamed for the weather.”

“Come into the drawing room,” Kilsyth said, an invitation that sounded more like an order.

Miriam was standing by the window, her face paler than usual, and she gave them a searching, worried look. “I am very glad you are both safe,” she said.

Kilsyth gave her an affectionate smile as he closed the door.

“We were never unsafe,” Agatha huffed. She had never liked this room, and right now she liked it even less. It was formal in a stiff, impersonal way and felt far too big. She sat down on the tapestry-covered sofa, ignoring the scratchiness against her thighs through her thin dress, and waited while her father ordered tea and poured a restorative whisky for the men. Donal stood by the fireplace, clearly wishing he were elsewhere, and then glared at Richard when he sat down at her side.

She stiffened. His familiar presence should have been comforting, but it wasn’t. It was the opposite. She would much rather have had Donal in his place.

“You are compromised.” Richard said, and his voice had taken on a doom-laden quality. She had forgotten his dramatic tendencies.

Agatha’s head jerked up. “I am not! I haven’t done anything wrong.” But she was remembering kissing Donal and the rest of it, and perhaps her voice wasn’t as unequivocal as she would have liked.