Arrowsmith: the MacGregors, #1 by Elina Emerald

Author:Elina Emerald
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Medieval Romance, Ancient Historical Romance, Romantic Suspense, Historical Romance, Scottish Historical Romance
Publisher: Elina Emerald
Published: 2021-04-19T00:00:00+00:00

Sale Day

AT 1 PM, THE VULTURES arrived to pick at the remnants of Beth’s life. Despite it being a discreet auction, all the gentry showed up in full force. Not for support or a show of empathy. They came purely for sport. Like sharks circling at the scent of blood. It was not enough they turned a blind eye to Beth’s abuse for years, now they sought revenge against a dead man they all hated. Unfortunately, the one to suffer was Beth.

Beth remained seated in the Drawing Room sipping tea and not saying a word as people perused the items on sale.

“Well, my dear, I pity what has happened to you. All this could have been avoided if you had pursued a relationship with me instead of making a hasty union with James.” Lord Lemington now hovered over her seat smirking and stuffing his face with an apple tart.

Beth thought he had changed little since their fateful dance all those years ago. He was still full of self-importance, although now he was a little rounder around his middle and had a jaundiced pallor. He resembled a lemon tart. "Lemon tart full of farts" popped into her head for some unknown reason. Beth caught her chortles and swallowed them deep down into her throat.

“Had you not abandoned me at that dance, you might have escaped this public spectacle and ridicule,” Lemington said.

“Moofy, I’m bored. Tis nothing here but garbage. Can we leave now?” Cora Lemington said, sidling up beside her husband.

“You call him Moofy?” Beth raised her eyebrow and snorted with an incredulous look.

Cora blushed when people turned to stare, then her face went purple.

Beth thought she resembled a pudding. How fitting a lemon tart married a purple pudding. Beth could not contain her mirth at her observation and whether it was the nerves or the stress, she knew not, but she burst into a fit of giggles.

It outraged Cora that Beth was laughing at her. She unleashed her own set-down. “Yes, he’s my Moofy and you’re just jealous because you’re practically destitute—”

“Cora, do not get so worked up,” Lemington warned his wife trying to reign in her outburst. She was attracting attention. But Cora would not be waylaid.

“Everyone knows Davenport carried on with other women in this house and you allowed it because you are a vile, unscrupulous woman!” Cora hissed.

“Cora, stop this at once,” Lemington snapped.

“I will not!” Cora stomped her foot. “Look at her laughing at us when she is a harlot why she most likely slept with several men at the scandalous house parties held here.”

Beth froze and inhaled sharply at the accusation. In this spectator sport, she was an unwilling actor thrust center stage. If this was the past, Beth would let the slight go and crawl back into her corner like a frightened mouse. But she was different now, and this new version was not about to let sleeping dogs lie. She had spent seven years surrounded by vile creatures like the ones currently traipsing through the manor.

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