April Seduction by Merry Farmer

Author:Merry Farmer [Farmer, Merry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Merry Farmer

Chapter 12

“My lord, what happened?” Galston greeted Malcolm as he stormed through his front door.

“Nothing,” Malcolm grumbled, brushing past the man and down the hall toward his study. There was a large decanter of scotch waiting for him there, and he intended to drink most of it.

“But your clothes, my lord,” Galston said, following him down the hall.

Malcolm glanced down at his scorched and sooty clothes and paused. He was close enough to a mirror to peer at his black and sooty reflection. The fire seemed like a minor detail in the travesty of his evening. The destruction of The Black Strap Club was nothing to the desolation of his life’s work. His friends would laugh at him, call him childish for raging against the way things had turned out, and tell him to be happy that Shayles was captured at all, but to see a newcomer take credit for everything? To see Dowland rescue Katya and carry her to safety? To see the way she clung to Dowland? She could deny her involvement with the young dolt all she wanted, but Malcolm had seen the connection between them with his own eyes.

“My lord?” Galston prompted. “Would you care to change into something a little…cleaner?”

He’d lost his battle to bring Shayles to justice. He’d lost Katya in the process. He wasn’t going to lose anything else.

“Later,” he said, turning fully toward Galston. “Go up and pack my things. All of my things. Send one of the footmen to find out when the first train to Glasgow departs in the morning. I’m going home.”

Galston’s eyes betrayed his surprise, but he quickly schooled his expression and bowed. “Yes, my lord.”

As Galston headed upstairs, Malcolm stormed down the hall and into his study. He needed that scotch to bring him the oblivion he craved. With any luck, he could sleep the whole way home on the train. With even more luck, some thief would steal his wallet, his identity, and his entire, miserable life.

“Papa?”

Malcolm stopped short inside his study as Cece rose from one of the leather couches near the fireplace. Her ball gown was rumpled and creased, but her tired face popped into a look of alarm.

“Oh my, Papa. What happened to you?” She flew across the room, reaching for him.

Malcolm dodged her, too miserable even to let his daughter comfort him. “Mind your gown,” he said, his voice heavy with defeat. “I’ll ruin it.” He marched past her to the table holding his liquor. “What are you doing here anyhow? I would have thought that ball would go on until morning.”

“I wasn’t enjoying myself.” Cece followed him to the table. “Not after Inspector Craig took you and Lady Stanhope away.”

Malcolm’s hands shook as he poured his scotch, but at the mention of Katya’s name he flinched so hard the lip of the decanter smacked against the tumbler, ringing like a crystal bell. “You should have stayed and enjoyed yourself,” he grumbled.

“How could I?” Cece took the decanter from him and finished pouring.

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