The Highlander's English Bride Read online

  The marquess finally tore free of the thorny rosebushes and staggered out. His clothes were a disaster, and even as dark as it was, Sabrina could see numerous scratches on his face and hands.

  Graeme glanced at her with a reluctant smile. “I admit you did roll him up.”

  “I do try.”

  “You’re insane,” Cringlewood hissed at her. “How dare you attack me?”

  “My sister-in-law would ask you the same question.” Graeme’s tone carried a hard warning.

  “Your sister-in-law is a whoring bitch.” Cringlewood then jabbed a finger at Sabrina. “As for this little piece, I’m guessing you already got under her skirts. Kendrick men have a—”

  Graeme’s massive fist shot out like Thor’s hammer and connected squarely with Cringlewood’s jaw. The man collapsed without a sound.

  Sabrina blinked. “Goodness, that was impressive.”

  “I do try.”

  “What in the bloody blazes is going on out here?”

  Graeme sighed. “And the hounds of hell have been unleashed.”

  Aden St. George stalked up to them, with Vivien scampering to keep up with her husband’s long strides.

  Sabrina held up a hand. “No need to worry, sir. Everything is under control.”

  St. George came to a halt, fists propped on his hips as he inspected the wreck of both Lord Cringlewood and Lady Peregrim’s prize rosebushes.

  “You must have an unusual definition of under control, Lady Sabrina.” Then he shot an irate glance at Graeme. “Really?”

  Graeme shrugged. “Not sure what else I was supposed to do.”

  “You were supposed to let me handle it.”

  Vivien elbowed her husband aside and laid a hand on Sabrina’s arm. “My dear, are you all right? Did Cringlewood hurt you?”

  “The hurting went the other way, actually,” Graeme said.

  “I may have given his lordship a nudge in the direction of the balustrade,” Sabrina admitted.

  “Lass, you went at him like a battering ram, knocking him over.”

  “Yes, but after he got out of the bushes, you hit him.”

  “Only because the bastard was insulting you.”

  “Language, dear boy,” Vivien said. “There are ladies present.”

  St. George covered his eyes. “You’re all insane.”

  “Insanely effective, if you ask me.” Vivien nudged the marquess with her daintily shod foot. “I fear his lordship may not be waking up anytime soon.”

  “Well, I’ve got to get the blighter out of here before anyone sees him.” St. George scowled at Graeme. “But don’t think we won’t be having a further discussion about this.”

  “In all fairness, this was mostly my fault,” Sabrina said.

  “That’s true,” Graeme said. “I told you to steer clear of him.”

  Well, that was annoying, when she was trying to defend the man.

  “May we please focus on the issue at hand?” St. George asked in a long-suffering tone. “We need some muscle to carry this moron out through the garden to his carriage.”

  “Do you want me to fetch Lady Peregrim’s footmen, my love?” Vivien asked.

  “I’d prefer my own men, so as to keep this as quiet as possible. If you could—”

  “Sir, I realize the need for discretion,” Sabrina interrupted. “But I hope you’re not intending to entirely cover up this matter. While I understand you wish to preserve my reputation and Lady Ainsley’s dignity, Cringlewood must be stopped.”

  St. George shot Graeme an irritated look. “You told her about Ainsley?”

  “Och, the lass wouldn’t stop badgering me.”

  “How I came by the information is immaterial,” Sabrina said with offended dignity. “What is not immaterial is the need for justice.”

  “The marquess will face justice,” St. George replied. “I promise you that.”

  “But—”

  “Lady Sabrina, I will go to the king myself.”

  “You can trust Aden, dearest,” Vivien said. “He’s just the one to take care of this nasty situation.”

  “I was taking care of it until you lot bolloxed it up,” St. George said.

  “Just ignore him,” Vivien said to Sabrina in a loud stage whisper.

  Graeme flashed St. George a meaningful look. “So, we’re done here? I have that other business to attend to.”

  “I already sent Cooper up, but you’d best check on him,” St. George cryptically replied.

  Sabrina couldn’t help wondering what that other business was. Some murky political affair was the likeliest explanation, given St. George’s rather mysterious duties with the Home Office. But what did Graeme Kendrick have to do with any of that?

  “No need for any checking,” said another voice from behind them.

  Vivien sighed. “This is rather turning into a garden party.”

  “A bit dark for that,” Sabrina said.

  “We can start a new fashion,” Vivien wryly replied. “A moonlit al fresco party.”

  “Cooper, if you’re waiting for this absurd discussion to conclude, you’ll be waiting all night,” St. George said.

  The fellow was broad-shouldered and stocky, dressed in the plain garb of a servant. When he cast Sabrina a cautious glance, she crossed her arms and lifted a defiant chin. She had no intention of leaving.

  St. George waved an exasperated hand. “Just report.”

  “I was too late, sir. Lady Peregrim’s room had been tossed, and her maid had already raised the alarm. Shrieking her fool head off, she was. The butler wasn’t much better. I had to shove ’em both back in the room and tell them to keep their blabbers shut. The butler had already sent for Lord Peregrim, though, so the cat’s out of the bag.”

  “Was anything taken?” Graeme asked.

  “Her ladyship’s jewelry box was smashed open. A set of pearls and a few diamond bracelets were gone. Probably more.”

  Graeme muttered a quite shocking and inventive oath.

  “Well put,” St. George said in a dry tone. “Where is Lord Peregrim now?”

  “Waiting for you in his study, sir.”

  “Does Lady Peregrim know what happened?” Vivien asked.

  Cooper grimaced. “She and her maid were just having a nice bit of hysterics together.”

  “Oh, drat,” sighed Vivien.

  Her husband cast her a look.

  She flapped a hand. “All right. I’ll go up and deal with Lady Peregrim.”

  “Do your best to keep her and the maid under wraps.”

  Vivien gave Sabrina a hug. “I’ll talk to you later, my dear. Do go home and get some rest,” she said before hurrying off.

  Graeme nudged the now faintly moaning Lord Cringlewood. “Want me to take care of this idiot?”

  “Cooper will see to it. You’re not to go near the marquess again,” St. George ordered.

  “I wasn’t looking for a fight, you know.”

  “And yet one found you, anyway,” St. George replied. “As usual.”

  “Then what do you want me to do,” Graeme said, his frustration evident.

  “Get Lady Sabrina home, quickly and quietly. Take my carriage.”

  “That won’t be necessary. . . . Oh, bother.” Sabrina sighed at St. George’s retreating back.

  “Sure you don’t need my help?” Graeme asked Cooper, who’d crouched down to inspect Cringlewood.

  “Nay, sir. Best get the lady home, like the captain said.”

  “I don’t need anyone to get me home,” Sabrina protested.

  Graeme took her arm. “Come along, you.”

  He marched her to the terrace steps. She had to scramble to keep up with him.

  “Sir, I am not a racehorse.”

  “Oh, sorry. I keep forgetting you’re such a dab little thing.”

  “I am not,” she indignantly replied.

  He led her up the stairs and across the terrace.

  “I expect most everyone seems small to you,” she added as he ushered her into
the thankfully deserted corridor. “You’re a giant.”

  “Not really. My brother Logan is taller than I am.”

  “I do hope he has better manners.”

  “Worse. We’re a fairly blunt lot.”

  Sabrina was starting to develop a stitch in her side from all the rushing about. “Then I shall hope never to meet any of them.”

  He cast her an obscure glance. “No fear of that, lass. We’re not Mayfair sort of folk.”

  His tone made her wince. “Forgive me. I’m sure your family is perfectly lovely.”

  That elicited a quick smile. “Lovely doesn’t exactly suit, but we rub along just fine. Did you bring a wrap?”

  “No, it’s very mild out.”

  They made their way to the entrance hall, where two footmen and a maid stood in a huddle, excitedly whispering. Word of the theft had obviously filtered out.

  The only guests there were an elderly couple that the head footman was escorting out the door. Thank goodness the couple were leaving. Although Graeme was obviously a gentleman, it would be considered scandalous for Sabrina to leave alone with him.

  She and Graeme had almost reached the front door when she pulled up short. “Oh, I forgot that I’m supposed to go home with Lady Farnsworth. I promised my father.”

  He looked irritated. “Bad idea. Besides, I have my orders.”

  The head footman stepped forward, looking concerned. “May I be of assistance, my lady?”

  “Yes,” Graeme said. “Inform Lady Farnsworth that Lady Sabrina is unwell and is going directly home in Captain St. George’s carriage.”

  Then Graeme marched her out the door and down the steps to the line of carriages.

  “That was very rude,” she huffed. “Whatever will the servants think?”

  “I don’t give a damn. Besides, once the news gets out about the robbery, no one will think twice about us.”

  His mood was grim, but his logic was sound. “I suppose that’s true.”

  “Which is a lucky break for you, but not so lucky for the Peregrims.”

  “It’s very unfortunate, but you can hardly blame me for the robbery.”

  When he shot her an immensely frustrated look, she blinked. If she didn’t know better, she might almost have thought he did blame her for the theft.

  That was silly, of course.

  A dark-coated groom came around from the back of the St. George carriage and opened the door. “Any luck, sir?”

  “Only bad luck, unfortunately.”

  “The captain won’t like that.”

  “As I am painfully aware.”

  The groom’s wince was sympathetic, which proved that this mysterious affair did have something to do with Graeme.

  Sabrina adjusted her skirts as Graeme settled opposite, canting his long legs sideways to give her room. As the carriage pulled out of line, he crossed his arms over his chest and scowled out the window. Sabrina was positively bursting with questions, but tact seemed the wiser course at the moment.

  After a few minutes, he cut her a sardonic glance. “You’re uncommonly quiet.”

  She tried not to bristle. “I don’t think you know me well enough to ascertain when I’m being uncommonly quiet.”

  “I know you well enough, lass.”

  While his tone was neither complimentary nor encouraging, she decided to take the opening. “I can’t help thinking that tonight’s events were rather curious.”

  “Which ones? There were quite a lot of events.”

  She resisted the urge to kick him, which showed how off balance she was. Ladies never kicked gentlemen, unless absolutely necessary.

  “I’m referring specifically to the theft of Lady Peregrim’s jewels. Both you and Captain St. George seemed to be uncommonly knowledgeable about those proceedings. Almost as if you anticipated them.”

  He studied her for a few moments. “Sorry, my lady. Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “That is patently untrue. That mysterious Cooper person, for instance, was sent to investigate the theft. He obviously takes orders from St. George, which means he works for him.”

  Then it hit her like a spiky pinecone bouncing off her head. How had she missed it? “As do you, since you were also intending to investigate the other business.”

  “Nonsense. St. George is family, that’s all.”

  Graeme turned his gaze to the window, apparently to end the conversation.

  As if a little thing like that would stop her.

  “This has something to do with those dreadful robberies taking place within the ton, doesn’t it? I’m going to assume that St. George is leading the investigation.” After a long pause, she tapped Graeme on the knee with her fan. “Feel free to continue to pretend I don’t exist.”

  Graeme scowled. “You really are the most annoying girl.”

  “Ha. That means I’m right. It makes perfect sense. St. George works for the Home Office and is the king’s son. His Majesty is quite disturbed by the situation. He told my father so just the other day.”

  Graeme shrugged. “As I said, I wouldn’t know.”

  “Nonsense. It’s clear you’re helping the captain. Are you an inquiry agent of some sort, Mr. Kendrick?”

  For a few moments, Sabrina thought he’d simply refuse to answer her admittedly blunt question.

  “I occasionally help St. George. Very informally,” he admitted.

  She snapped her fingers. “I knew it. You were at the Peregrims to help catch the thief.” Unsuccessfully. No wonder St. George was cross. “I’m sorry he got away.”

  His green gaze turned sardonic. “Thanks to you.”

  That made no sense, unless . . .

  “Oh, dear,” she weakly said as realization dawned.

  “Yes, I was following the blasted thief when I found out you’d gone haring off with Cringlewood. Of all the idiotic—”

  She put up a hand. “I understand your frustration, but you needn’t have interrupted your investigation. I would have screamed the entire house down before I let Cringlewood touch me.”

  “That is unbelievably naïve. The situation could have gone to hell in an instant. And I did save you from a bloody great scandal, by the way.”

  That part was true, so it wouldn’t hurt to be charitable. “Then I am truly sorry for any inconvenience I caused. My sincere apologies, my dear sir.”

  He shook his head. “You are daft.”

  If her fan hadn’t already suffered enough abuse for one evening, she might have whacked him with it. “There is no need for insults, Mr. Kendrick.”

  “If you’d gone home like a good girl, none of this would have happened.”

  “Like a good girl?” she echoed in disbelief. “What a ridiculous thing to say to a grown woman.”

  “If ye’d gone with yer da, I would have caught the thief. And St. George was already dealing with Cringlewood, ye ken.”

  The brogue had returned, signaling his immense irritation.

  He’s not the only irritated one.

  “One cannot rely upon others to solve one’s problems, sir.” Years of experience had taught her that men were generally unreliable. Sabrina had learned quite early to rely on herself. “Since Lord Cringlewood was pursuing me, it made sense to deal with the situation forthwith.”

  Graeme briefly covered his eyes. “Did I say daft? Deranged, more like.”

  Thankfully, she was spared the destruction of her fan by their arrival at her house. “On that happy note, I will bid you good night, Mr. Kendrick.”

  “Och, we’re not finished, lass,” he growled.

  She threw open the door, almost clocking the poor groom who’d come around to set the carriage step. “We are more than finished, sir. Good night.”

  As she took the groom’s hand, Sabrina ignored the brogue-heavy oath that followed her into the night.

  Chapter Six

  From their elegant box, Sabrina’s father peered with concern around the theater. “I have never been to the Pan, nor has the king. W
hy would we? Those persons in the pit look quite dangerous to me.”

  The patrons were a perfectly normal mix of aristocrats, shopkeepers and their families, and boisterous but good-humored young men. But since Sabrina’s father rarely went to public performances, fearing exposure to both infection and the lower orders, as he called them, his attitude wasn’t surprising.

  “You are perfectly safe, Lord Musgrave,” said Chloe, Lady Hunter, who was seated behind them in the box. “My husband would never put any of us in harm’s way.”

  “Indeed,” said Sir Dominic Hunter. “Bow Street Runners are on the premises, providing security. There is also a decided lack of riffraff tonight, due to the cost of the tickets.”

  Tonight’s gala performance was a charitable affair for an orphanage in St. Giles, as well as a home for unwed mothers and their babies. Lady Hunter ran the latter establishment herself.

  Sabrina’s father had known Sir Dominic for years, since the dignified magistrate had a close relationship with the king. But since the Hunters spent much of their time at their manor house just outside London, Sabrina knew them only as nodding acquaintances. Their invitation, although flattering, had certainly been unexpected.

  “Father and I were very happy to make a contribution to your charity,” Sabrina said, smiling at their hostess.

  “Thank you, my dear. You were most generous.”

  Father looked vaguely alarmed. “We were? Did you—”

  “I’ve never attended a theatrical event at the Pan,” Sabrina brightly interjected. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Lady Hunter’s gaze twinkled with understanding. “It’s usually a great deal of fun. Dominic and I always enjoy ourselves here.”

  “Yes, great fun,” her husband replied with sardonic emphasis.

  “I do hope there will be no bawdy or ridiculous romps,” Father said fretfully. “The Pan is known for that sort of thing.”

  “I picked the program myself,” her ladyship assured him. “Everything will be in the best of taste.”

  Drat. Sabrina could use a bit of fun after the debacle at Lady Peregrim’s ball last week, followed by that humiliating scene in the carriage with Graeme Kendrick. She’d not seen him since, and was absolutely burning to apologize for her rude behavior. Not that Graeme had covered himself in glory either, but he’d had a very trying night, so she couldn’t truly fault him.