A Scot in the Dark

“Lillian,” he said, and she heard the relief in his tone. “Breathe.”

She tried. Failed. Shook her head.

“Lillian.”

She couldn’t breathe.

“Lillian.” He sat her up.

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe.

“LILY.” She looked to him, met his firm brown gaze, inches from her. “You will breathe. We’ve knocked the air from your lungs.” He ran his hands down her arms and back up as she opened her mouth to pull in air. Failed. “Stay calm.” His warm hands came to her face. Cradled it like crystal. His thumbs stroked her cheeks. “Listen to me.” She nodded. “Now. Breathe.”

Air came like he’d willed it.

She gulped it in in deep gasps, and he nodded, guiding her through it. “Good, lass. Again.” Tears came, unbidden, on a wave of relief. He pulled her tight against him, and she clung to the lapels of his coat as he spoke. “Again. Breathe, mo chridhe.”

For long moments, it seemed as though it was just the two of them, sitting in the dirt of Rotten Row, the entirety of London disappeared. She clutched him, breathing him in in great gasps, the scent of crisp linen and tobacco flower bringing strength and calm. And then London returned with a cacophony of noise. Lily looked up to find a wall of people staring down at them, watching as she regained her breath. The sea of prying eyes had her blushing her embarrassment and releasing Alec’s coat. “I am—” She took another breath. “I am—” She did not know what one said in such a situation as this. So, she settled upon, “Hello.”

No one moved.

No one, that was, but Lord Stanhope, who stepped through the crowd and came to her side. “Miss Hargrove! Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “Only my pride.”

He smiled and picked a leaf from her hair before reaching down to lift her soiled bonnet from the ground. “Nonsense. It could have been anyone. That horse was quite out of control.”

“Lily!” She looked toward the cry to find several women at the front protesting as Sesily, Seline, and Seleste Talbot pushed through the crowd. “My goodness, Lily!” Without hesitating, the three collapsed in pools of silk to protect her on all sides. “You could have died!”

Sesily was nothing if not dramatic.

“I did not die, thankfully,” Lily said. “I was very fortunate that the duke appeared in the nick of time.” She turned to meet Alec’s gaze, secretly wanting to reassure herself of his presence.

Except he wasn’t there.

She looked up and down the Row, searching for his familiar red plaid. His comforting height. His strong hands and firm Scots jaw.

He was nowhere to be seen. In fact, the only evidence that he’d ever been there to begin with was Angus and Hardy, sitting sentry just behind her, as though they had been left there by their master.

Left, along with her.

I have better things to do than follow you.

Her chest constricted at the memory, and she struggled to catch her breath again.

“He’s gone,” she said, softly.

“He rushed off like a bat from hell,” Sesily said, and a titter came from the crowd. She turned to face them. “Oh, please. We are not even able to speak the word hell? It’s a location, is it not? I’m allowed to say Hyde Park or Knightsbridge or . . .”

“Cockington,” Seline interjected, sending a ripple of affronted gasps over the assembly.

Lily coughed to cover her laugh.

Lord Stanhope crouched to help her to stand, and when he spoke, she heard the amusement in his tone. “Well. That will disperse the crowd more quickly than anything else.”

She smiled. “Is there even such a place?”

His lips twitched. “It’s in Devonshire.”

“Well, then,” she said matter-of-factly, “she has a point.”

“It seems that having the Talbot sisters in one’s corner is quite helpful in redirecting attention.”

“You’d best remember that, Lord Stanhope,” Sesily said, “as you would not like us if we were not in your corner.”

“Bubble bubble, boil and trouble,” Seleste said.

Lily and Stanhope looked to each other.

“It’s double double, toil and trouble,” Seline corrected.

“It is?” She turned to Lily.

Lily nodded.

Seleste looked to Stanhope. “Well, that doesn’t make sense. It’s a cauldron, isn’t it? With witches?”

Stanhope nodded. “It is.”

“Shouldn’t it bubble?”

“It bubbles in the next line,” Lily offered.

Seline rolled her eyes. “This isn’t really relevant.”

“I’m just asking,” Seleste said.

Stanhope’s eyes filled with laughter. “Either way, my lady, I wouldn’t dream of crossing you.”

“There, then. Goal achieved.”

Lily laughed, the sound quickly becoming a cough.

“For heaven’s sake, Seleste. Lily nearly died,” Sesily said. “Stop making her laugh.”

Stanhope offered her an arm. “My carriage is not far, Miss Hargrove. I’ll happily escort you home.” He looked to the other women. “Perhaps the ladies will join us?”

The trio did not hesitate to agree.

“Excellent,” he said, turning back to Lily. “Allow me to see you settled on the green, and I shall fetch it.”

Lily let him escort her away from the dirt path, Hardy and Angus following silently, watching her carefully, seeming to sense her myriad feelings about the afternoon. Once she reached the grass, she stroked the dogs’ wide, handsome heads and spoke, raising her voice for the benefit of all assembled. “My lord, I am feeling better by the moment—”

At least, the parts of her that were not wondering where Alec went were feeling better by the moment.

She had trouble believing that he’d left her alone. Yes, it had happened after they’d argued and agreed—for the best, was it not?—that they were better off separated than together when it came to her possible courtship.

But she’d nearly been run down. She could have been seriously hurt.

He’d been there to save her.

And then he’d left her alone. With Stanhope. Who hadn’t left. Stanhope had stayed, as a decent man should. And so Lily would, as well.