Something in Emily’s calm certainty blunted the edge of Kit’s panic. She drew a shaky breath and told herself to stop being so jumpy.
“Thank you, Emily.” She sent Quentin a grateful smile. Emily might mock his immediate defense of her, but Kit hadn’t had enough champions in her life to scorn his gallantry. “And thank you, Quentin. You’re too good.”
To her delight, he turned pink again. “Not at all.”
Her heartbeat slowing, Kit subsided onto the window seat. “So what are you suggesting, Emily?”
The humor drained from Emily’s fine eyes and compassion took its place. “Now don’t go flying up into the boughs again. But I believe the time has come to retire Kit the stableboy and introduce Christabel, Lady Appin, to the audience.”
“But I remain under Neil’s legal control.” Kit stiffened, while every atom in her body shouted denial. “What if he learns I’m here?”
Emily’s smile remained reassuring. “Have a little faith, Kit. Neither Hamish nor I will hand you over, even if he turns up with every constable in Scotland. I can see that Quentin has declared himself your protector, too. We only need to keep you until Christmas, then you’re free. A bunch of Douglases are canny enough to outwit any Maxwell.”
Disquiet churned in Kit’s stomach. “But everyone on the estate will know that I’ve been here in disguise. Putting me into a dress won’t convince people that they’ve never seen me before.”
“That’s true. Hamish and I think we should tell the clan something of your story.”
Quentin was frowning. He, like Kit, must be working through the implications of this new plan. “So we enlist the locals in the scheme to keep Kit safe?”
“Yes. They’re all loyal to Hamish and if he asks them to help, they will. Not to mention that you’ve found a place in their hearts, Kit.”
“But that was before they knew I lied to them,” she said grimly, already disliking the prospect of playing the fine lady again. She might have spent the weeks at Glen Lyon being afraid, but she was used to that. Frightened or not, Kit had been free in a way Christabel could never be.
“They’ll understand. They might even like it,” Quentin said, leaning one elbow on the mantel and looking thoughtful. “As Emily said, this is like a play or a fairy tale.”
“Exactly.” Emily caught Kit’s trembling hand in hers. “It will all work out, Kit. We brought you this far. We’ll get you safely to the end.”
Kit summoned a shaky smile. “You’ve been so kind. And you’ve taken such risks. You broke the law the moment you offered me your help, and with every day since, you’ve embroiled yourself deeper in my troubles. How can I ever repay you and Hamish?”
“Pish.” Emily might have lived in the Highlands for the last six years, but she still sounded as English as a Melton Mowbray pork pie. “This is the kind of tale we’ll tell our grandchildren. How we sheltered a princess in disguise from the ogres bent on her destruction.”
Kit gave a snort that would have made people look askance at the Countess of Appin. “A princess who stinks of straw and saddle soap – and worse.”
Emily smiled back. “That’s the best sort of princess.”
“Hear, hear,” Quentin said.
Emily’s humor faded until she looked deadly serious. “Which brings me to the other reason I asked to speak to both of you.”
Foreboding gripped Kit. “What is it?”
Emily’s grip on her hand tightened. “Kit the stableboy could spend a night alone in a hut with the laird’s nephew with no questions asked. Not so much the Countess of Appin.”
Kit ripped her hand away and sprang to her feet once more. “But nothing happened.”
Quentin remained by the hearth, but his expression turned troubled. “On my honor, Aunt Emily, we did nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I happen to believe you.” A faint smile hovered around Emily’s lips. “You only call me your aunt in moments of extremity.”
His perturbed expression didn’t ease. “The countess is as pure as the day she was born.”
Emily’s stare was uncompromising. “You’re talking like a child, Quentin. You know it’s appearances that count. Everyone in the glen knows you and Kit were together all night. Kit’s going to have to do her best to smother a scandal anyway, once she takes over her inheritance. Having her painted as a scarlet woman will be a step too far.”
Kit couldn’t help noting through her own horror that Quentin didn’t seem too eager to accept the consequences of his actions. It shouldn’t hurt, but it did.
“The countess is hiding at Glen Lyon to avoid a marriage she doesn’t want. It would be too ironic if she’s forced to make one anyway,” Quentin said hotly, straightening away from the mantelpiece. “The clan will keep quiet about anything that happened last night.”
Emily shook her head with a fond exasperation that did nothing to discount the gravity of their dilemma. “Too many people are privy to the facts. We might restrict the knowledge of Kit’s identity to people on Glen Lyon for a few days. No longer. News of Kit’s night with you will spread out across the Highlands sooner rather than later, and her reputation will be ruined.” Emily glanced between Kit and Quentin. “I’m afraid you two need to get married.”
Chapter 7
Quentin stared across to where Kit – Christabel – stood straight and still in front of the window. He read the frozen horror on her face.
By heaven, what else could he expect? She’d launched this whole dangerous enterprise to escape an unwelcome husband. Now here she was staring down the barrel of a forced marriage. No wonder she looked as sick as a dog, poor wee lassie.
Although he’d thought she liked him. He squashed an unworthy pang at seeing how little appeal the idea of marrying him held. Especially as for him, the idea of life with Christabel Urquhart was infernally appealing.
“Would…would a betrothal not serve as well as a marriage?” Kit asked in a quavery voice that didn’t sound at all like the valiant girl who had been such a stalwart companion through last night’s vicissitudes. “At least until after Christmas when we’ve had a chance to assess how bad any scandal is likely to be.”
“I’m afraid not, Kit. A broken engagement after the fact will only fuel gossip.” Compassion softened Emily’s face. “Being stuck like this isn’t the end of the world, even if it might feel like it right now. Quentin knows how my marriage started out, but you probably don’t. Hamish and I wed to scotch a scandal, too, and we were as innocent of wrongdoing as you are. In fact, you and Quentin are better off than we were. At least you two seem to get along. Hamish and I had known each other for years and we’d spent most of that time fighting like cat and dog.”
Kit’s eyes rounded with astonishment. Those lovely blue eyes that betrayed her every emotion. How in Hades anyone had ever believed this exquisite girl was a boy continued to leave Quentin flabbergasted. Not just a boy, but a rough-and-tumble stable lad at that.
“But you’re so happy together,” Kit said.