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The old fellow frowned. “It dinna look like nothin.’ In fact, his lordship looks like he swallowed a manky oyster. That’s nae good.”
Samantha squeezed her eyes shut, certain she’d tumbled straight into a nightmare. Although Angus was clearly concerned and meant no harm, his very presence would likely send Beath into full-blown fury.
She opened them to find her grandfather-in-law evidently speechless with outrage. Naturally, the haughty baron would find it offensive to be addressed by someone he would deem thoroughly unacceptable.
“Can I fetch ye a whisky, Beath?” Angus asked with evident concern. “A wee nip will settle yer grumbly guts in no time.”
“Not true,” Braden tersely said. “And not a helpful intervention, Grandda.”
Angus waved a hand. “Lad, I was just sayin’ that—”
“You will cease saying anything,” Beath thundered, apparently recovering from his shock. “Samantha, why would you invite such a person of low character to this sort of gathering? I insist that he leave immediately.”
“For God’s sake,” Logan said, “can everyone please stop insulting each other?”
“I was nae insultin’ anyone,” Angus replied with wounded dignity. “His lordship here is the one takin’ sad offense, ye ken.”
“What is offensive is your family,” Beath retorted. “I suppose one cannot expect anything better from a Kendrick.”
Angus put up a finger. “There’s where yer wrong, Beath. I’m a MacDonald.”
“You’re a fool is what you are,” Beath shot back.
Logan made an impatient sound. “Now see here, you old—”
“Just stop,” Braden cut in, shooting his brother a warning look. “Lady Samantha has made it clear that she wishes to speak with Lord Beath alone. We will honor her wishes.” He glanced at Samantha. “My lady, I will wait for you out in the hall. Once you’re finished your discussion, I’ll escort you back to the party.”
Beath thumped the tip of his cane on the floor. “You’ll do no such thing, you pompous ass.”
“Now there’s the pot callin’ the kettle black,” Angus muttered.
Braden kept his gaze steadfast on Beath. “My brother and grandfather will go downstairs, but I will wait for Lady Samantha out in the hall.”
Now Beath looked ready to whack Braden with his cane. “Now, you see here, you—”
“That will be fine,” Samantha hastily interjected, giving Braden a little shove toward the door. “I’m sure Lord Beath and I will only be a few minutes longer.”
“It isnotfine, Samantha,” Beath said in a lethally cold tone, “and I see now that it’s a waste of my time to speak with you. You are associating with people outside the bounds of polite society—some entirely mad—”
“Ho, now,” interrupted Angus.
“Which simply confirms your utter lack of judgment, Samantha,” Beath continued, rolling over him. “I will call on you tomorrow, and we will discuss arrangements for Felicity to return to the country.”
The breath stalled in Samantha’s lungs.
“No!” she managed to gasp, stumbling forward.
Braden caught her arm to steady her. “Hold on, lass,” he whispered.
Beath regarded her with something close to hatred. “Both your conduct and your choice of company indicate a lack of stability that I can no longer tolerate. Your time has run out, my girl. Felicity will return home with me.”
Those devastating words froze her to the soul. Samantha couldn’t think, much less move.
Beath turned and, without a backward glance, stomped to the door. Logan stood in his way for a moment, his gaze ice-cold, but then stepped aside to let the old man pass. They all stood in silence, listening to the thump of Beath’s cane fading down the hall.
Braden ducked his head to be eye level with her. “Samantha, it’s all right. We’ll fix it.”
Misery almost choked her. “You can’t. He hates me.”
