One Little Sin by Liz Carlyle

Author:Liz Carlyle [Liz Carlyle]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Pocket Star Books
Published: 2005-04-06T06:00:00+00:00

It was not long before Lydia returned to the schoolroom in another breathless, wide-eyed rush to warn Esmée that Lady Tatton had cornered Sir Alasdair on his way in the door. By that time, however, Sorcha had become fretful, just as Dr. Reid had predicted, and Esmée was obliged to pace back and forth through the schoolroom, patting the child on the back until she drifted off to sleep.

Heartsick over the choice which now seemed inevitable, and very much afraid her aunt had berated Alasdair unfairly, Esmée continued to pace, even after Sorcha was tucked into her little bed, and Lady Tatton’s coach had vanished from the street below. She walked and she waited, her heart in her throat. Waited for Alasdair to come to her, all the while wondering what he would say.

It would be best, she supposed, if he said nothing at all. Had she not already acknowledged the wisdom—no, the necessity—of her leaving this place, even before her aunt’s arrival? She could not continue to live here and be, in essence, a kept woman. Still, in her fantasies, Alasdair burst into the schoolroom, flung himself at her feet, and begged her not to go. In her more logical moments, she imagined him simply arguing with her, just as he had that first night, then wheedling from her a promise to stay.

But neither happened, and by luncheon—a meal she sent away before the cover was removed—she realized he did not mean to come at all. It was a lowering thought, but she could not go without speaking to him just one more time.

Esmée found him in his study. The door was closed, but she sensed his presence inside the room. It was as if she could smell his scent, familiar and comforting, in the corridor. She drew in a deep breath, then tapped lightly.

She heard his answering bark. “Come!”

Esmée stuck her head inside. “I hope I am not disturbing you?”

He looked up from his desk. “Oh, you is it, my dear?” Abruptly, he shut a drawer, but not before she glimpsed the two green velvet boxes within.

She came into the room, feeling suddenly awkward. “I understand you met my aunt this morning.”

He had risen, of course, from his chair. “What?” he said absently. “Oh, indeed! Lady Tatton. A most worthy lady.”

“Aye, she is that,” agreed Esmée. “But a bit of a dragon, all the same.”

MacLachlan smiled. “In my experience, worthy ladies usually are.”

Esmée tried to smile back, but it faltered. “You know, I daresay, why she came?”

MacLachlan paced to the window, one hand set at the back of his neck, the other at his waist. It was a sign, she’d learned, that he was either angry or troubled. But when he turned round and paced back again, he sounded neither. “Ah, Esmée,” he said. “I collect you are to leave us.”

“Am I?” she said sharply. “I had thought we might…discuss it first.”

“Esmée!” He looked at her with chiding indulgence. “There is no question. You must go.”

The world felt

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