It was almost as if the gods heard her, for she only finished the thought when she heard footsteps in the hall. She straightened in anticipation as Fiona appeared in the doorway.
One look at her face told her the answer she didn’t want to hear.
Fiona sat down beside her and took her hand. “’Tis sorry I am, but Alasdair says he canna stop the marriage.”
She felt like her heart quit beating. Or at least had fallen out of her chest. Somehow she managed to take in air and raise her chin. “Cannot or will not?”
Fiona gave her a sympathetic look. “Canna,” she said softly. “If he begs off, the Duke of Oakley will see to it that our clan will lose our appeals for the lands.”
The clan. The dispute for the Argyll lands that were so important to the MacGregors. She should have known that was the one thing he would not be able to compromise on.
The Duke of Oakley had just declared a checkmate. The game was over. She had lost.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Lorelei only inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment as Fiona found her in the solar the next day, then turned her attention back to staring out the window. The room faced southeast, which allowed for the sun to warm it from morning until afternoon, but she took no notice. Nor was she looking at the well-manicured garden below. The velvet curtains could have been closed for all she cared.
“Ye dinna come down to break your fast,” Fiona said as she settled in a chair opposite of hers.
“I was not hungry.”
“’Tis what ye said last night, too.”
Lorelei shrugged. “It is true.” Just the thought of food made her stomach turn, and she was pretty sure she would have cast up her accounts if she’d tried eating. She knew she wouldn’t have been able to abide small talk at the dinner table. And she certainly didn’t want to discuss the future.
“We have most of the day to ourselves,” Fiona said.
Lorelei looked at her. “Louisa and her mother left?”
“Since this is Monday, Louisa is at her bluestocking meeting.” Fiona paused. “Lady Bute decided to call on some friends to see which way the winds were blowing.”
Monday. Not even forty-eight hours had passed since disaster had struck. She sighed. At least Louisa didn’t have to pretend to go shopping on Mondays anymore. After the abduction in St. Giles, they’d all confessed to what they’d been doing. Louisa’s mother had not been that upset about her attendance at the meetings after all.
“What did you say Lady Bute is doing?”
“She intends to find out how bad the gossip is.”
“The announcement in theTimesmay have laid that all to rest.” She felt tears well up again and swatted at her cheek.
If Fiona noticed, she didn’t comment. “Lady Bute is more concerned about the damage to ye right now.”
“I am only the daughter of a deceased baron.” Lorelei shrugged. “I suspect I will not be at the top of the gossip list for long.”
Fiona studied her. “I doona much care for the English system of titles, but over half a Season, I have learned that the higher the rank, the more the gossip.”
“Exactly. A baron is the lowest title of the peerage.”
“But your sister Emily is still a dowager countess, even if she’s married to Ian.”
“Emily is safely out of mind, since she’s residing in Scotland.”
Fiona hesitated a bit. “Well, a marquess is near the top.”
“I doubt that Randolph’s reputation will be tarnished. Men are rarely blamed for what they do. Not,” Lorelei added, “that he did anything.”
“But Lord Westwood is honorable.”
Lorelei squinted at her. “Are you saying I should consider his proposal?”
