Emily’s smile widened. “We are, but we spent most of our first year of marriage living apart. I thought marrying Hamish was the greatest mistake I ever made, yet it’s turned into a glorious blessing from heaven.”
This encouragement didn’t seem to reassure Kit, who looked like a fox facing a slavering pack of hounds. “You were lucky.”
“We were. But that doesn’t mean you won’t be, too.”
“It doesn’t mean we will be either,” she said flatly.
Emily sent them another of those searching looks that seemed to see things Quentin couldn’t. “You’re starting out ahead of us. You like each other.”
“Her ladyship is everything that’s admirable,” Quentin said. “How could anyone fail to like her?”
He saw Kit hide a wince at the use of her title. “And of course I like Quentin.”
Quentin hid his own wince at the lack of conviction that statement conveyed.
“If you two wed, there is the added benefit that Kit will be safe from her stepbrother all the sooner,” Emily said. “A rushed marriage may present a few legal issues, given Maxwell remains Kit’s guardian while she’s underage, but so close to Christmas, he’ll be in no position to take action against it. Anyway Kit turns twenty-one on Christmas Day, so I imagine the courts will see any case he makes as too little too late.”
“You’ve…you’ve thought of everything,” Kit said, not sounding particularly pleased.
“But it’s not up to me, is it?” Her expression determined, Emily rose from the window seat. “You two need to talk this out. I’ll leave you now. Come and find me when you’ve reached a decision. I’ll be in the library. There is always so much to do, with Christmas and the ball coming up. If you’re going ahead with a wedding, we need to talk to the minister. And we need to start Kit’s transformation back into Christabel.”
Quentin wanted to object to Emily giving the impression that they had any choice. He was well aware that Emily was leaving him alone with Kit so he could propose.
Still, he appreciated the chance to speak to Kit and chase that stricken expression from her pretty face. “Thank you, Aunt Emily.”
Emily sent him an encouraging smile then stopped in front of Kit. “May I hug you?”
The desolate look in the eyes Kit raised to his aunt threatened to break his heart. She wasn’t far from crying. She hadn’t cried when she fell off the sled or when they’d been lost in the snow. But the prospect of marriage to Quentin MacNab had her looking like she faced the end of the world. A sour mixture of regret and chagrin stewed in his gut.
“I’d like that.”
Emily put her arms around Kit’s slight form and held her close. “If you say yes to this charming rascal, I’ll be very happy to welcome you into the family. Hamish and I like you, and we’ve admired your spirit from the first.”
Quentin’s stomach clenched with more pity when he heard Kit muffle a sniff as she pulled back. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. “You and the laird have been so kind to me. You’re still being kind to me.”
Emily made a dismissive sound. “Nonsense, child. We’re the lucky ones. You’ve been the world’s greatest stableboy.”
That drew a husky little chuckle from Kit. The sound made Quentin feel slightly less hopeless. “It was the least I could do.”
“You’ll do, your ladyship.” Emily kissed her on the pale cheek. “I’ll be proud to call you my niece.”
“I’m out of the habit of hearing myself called her ladyship. Kit, your stableboy, received greater kindness than Christabel Urquhart has over recent years. And more respect. Thank you, Emily. I can never repay you, whatever happens now.”
“It will all work out. Just you wait and see.” Emily gave her another brief hug and stepped back. “Christmas at Lyon House is always a magical time. Happy endings guaranteed.”
Another of those delicious little chuckles, and Quentin was relieved to see that Kit didn’t look nearly as forlorn as she had a few moments ago. It made his task easier. He had no intention of bullying her. She’d been bullied enough. But he felt like a bully when he contemplated the best way to convince a frightened, defenseless girl to marry him.
Once Emily had gone, a thorny silence descended. Quentin stepped away from the fireplace but was careful to keep his distance from Kit. She might appear less terrified, but he feared she’d take to her heels if he made any sudden movement. He’d tamed enough wild creatures in his time to recognize her trembling stillness as barely contained panic.
“Shall we talk about this, Kit? Or would you rather think everything through first? I’m completely at your disposal.”
A wary gaze leveled on him, but when she spoke, her tone was apologetic. “I’m so sorry I got you into this mess. I’m sure you don’t have to marry me.”
He was sure he did. He just wished the idea left the bride looking a little less woebegone. “What about your reputation?”
One hand batted the question away. “Once word gets out about me playing a stableboy – and it will – my reputation will be ruined anyway. At best, the world will call me an irredeemable hoyden. Falling prey to the laird’s nephew will just seem part of the pattern.”
“Don’t you care?”
Her shoulders slumped, and he read despair beneath her fear as she dropped onto the window seat in a disconsolate huddle. “Of course I care.” Her tone was wooden. “I always imagined I’d lead a conventional life. A season. Presentation at court. Suitors. Falling in love with a good man. Marriage. But none of that has happened. Instead, Neil has used the letter of the law to keep me a prisoner, and escaping him meant I broke every rule in the book. I stopped being an acceptable match for any decent man the moment I cut my hair and rode away from Appin Castle. That girl I was before Papa died no longer exists, just as the life she would have led is no longer possible.”
Her sadness sliced a bloody wound across his heart. She didn’t deserve any of the awful things that had befallen her, and now it looked like a hasty marriage would top all the other calamities.
“What will you do if we don’t wed?”
She shrugged with unconvincing carelessness. “I’m the Countess of Appin. I still control vast property on the east coast. All isn’t lost. I’ll stay on my estates, I’ll race my horses, I’ll make sure I lead a full life, if only to cock a snook at my vile stepbrother.”
What a gallant girl she was. He admired her bravery more than he could say, but it all sounded rather lonely. “There will be men willing to overlook the smudges on your good name, especially once time passes.”
A bleak smile turned down her lips. “I’ve gone to such lengths to avoid falling into a fortune hunter’s hands. I have no intention of leaping from the frying pan into the fire.”
“I’m not interested in your fortune,” he said, hoping to glory she believed him. He’d be damned if she put him in the same category as Neil Maxwell or his oily swine of a friend. “My estates mightn’t compare to yours, but when the time comes, I’ll inherit more than enough to keep me in brandy and cigars. In fact, from what I can see, your fortune hasn’t done you an ounce of good. Instead, it’s caused you a mountain of pain.”