Isabella shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I only want to make certain my mother is all right. She’s never very good at managing in a crisis. And Louisa will be heartbroken. This will mean she’ll have no debut ball.”

“Not necessarily,” Mac said. “Your father is lucky that his son-in-law is so rich and well connected. Hart knows the best financial wizards in the City—in all of England and Scotland, for that matter. I’ll see what can be done to save your father from destitution, and your sister can go on with her plans for her coming-out.”

“He’ll not let you,” she said sadly. “He’ll never take a penny from a Mackenzie.”

“We’ll fix it so that he never knows. It sounds like an entertaining endeavor. I’ll save him and keep his pride intact.”

The small smile she gave him made Mac feel better. The expression Isabella had worn when he’d entered the room had reminded him strongly of the one he’d seen on her face the night he’d come home after her miscarriage. Mac hadn’t been able to fix that tragedy, but he might be able to fix this one.

He got Isabella to agree to go upstairs and let Evans look after her, and then he and Cameron departed for the City to find out what they could.

Unfortunately, when Mac and Cameron met with Hart’s man at the Exchange, he confirmed that Lord Scranton’s situation was dire indeed. He’d not only been involved in bad investment schemes, but he’d borrowed heavily from banks and friends in order to do so. Now, those banks and friends were demanding to be repaid. In addition, it looked as though Lord Scranton had also been dipping his hands into funds from a syndicate he’d formed with some old school friends, and now he couldn’t replace their money. He’d certainly dug himself in deep.

Mac did not want to report this awfulness to Isabella. He stayed away until late that night, trying to come up with ways to mitigate the damage. If he worked hard enough perhaps he wouldn’t have to explain until things were slightly less awful.

He arrived home after Isabella had gone to bed, but he found her awake in the bed in his room, waiting for him. Mac held her, neither of them speaking, both of them worrying, until they fell asleep in exhaustion.

The next day, still more dire news reached Isabella. Inspector Fellows sent Mac a note to tell him that Earl Scranton was dead, having died of apoplexy in the night.

Chapter 19

The Season opened as usual with a grand ball of the Lady formerly of Mount Street. Her North Audley Street residence was resplendent, her three brothers-in-law, including the duke, helping her to host the festivities. Rumor had it that her estranged Lord had holed up in Paris with a Lady Paramour, but that rumor is happily false. He spends his days brooding in Mount Street, or wandering alone about the Continent, or sequestering himself in the ducal castle in Scotland, while his wife remains a glittering and popular hostess.

—January 1880

“Mama.” Isabella rushed across her mother’s drawing room to the woman standing still as marble near the window. Lady Scranton turned at her footsteps, then with a sob, caught Isabella in her arms.

Mother and daughter held each other for a long moment, rocking and crying. Isabella sensed rather than heard Mac enter behind her, his presence filling the room like the sun after a long cold snap.

Lady Scranton disengaged from the hug and seized Isabella’s hands. She was dressed from head to foot in black, her eyes swollen and red behind her veil. “Oh, my child, I thought I would never see you again.”

“How could you not? Of course I would come to you, Mama. Of course you would see me again.”

“I thought . . .” She trailed off on another sob. “I thought you would hate me.”

“Never. Come and sit down, Mama. You need to rest.”

Lady Scranton allowed herself to be led to a sofa. She glanced up as she sat, saw Mac, and gave a start. “Oh. Lord Roland. I didn’t realize.”

“Call me Mac.” He seated himself on a chair, folding his arms on his knees. “I place myself at your service, madam. Anything you need or want done, you tell me, and I shall make it happen. Command me.”

“That is kind, but . . .”

“Mother.” Isabella sat at Lady Scranton’s side, still holding her hand. “This is no time for politeness, and Mac isn’t being polite. I know Papa was ruined. I know the creditors are busy taking everything. I know there isn’t money even for a proper funeral.”

Her mother’s face crumpled. “I have a small widow’s portion—so the solicitors tell me. In a trust.”

“The creditors might find a way to take that too,” Mac said in a gentle voice. “Do nothing until you know, and let me worry about your expenses.”

“I can’t. Isabella, your father would never have wished that I be on your charity.”

Isabella rubbed her mother’s hands, which were cold through her lace gloves. “Of course he never meant for you to be on anyone’s charity. He lost his money trying to make a fortune for you. But we’re family. It isn’t charity at all. It’s what families do.”

Pride warred with desperation in Lady Scranton’s eyes. Isabella saw that her mother did not want to be dependent on Mac, but also that Lady Scranton had been raised in a world in which she’d always been taken care of. A fortune wiped away with a stroke of a pen was not part of her understanding. Neither was a husband wrenched from her by a sudden illness. Isabella’s mother’s back was straight, her posture always perfect, but she trembled like a sapling in a storm.

“Isabella, I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.

“My dear lady,” Mac said, rising. “You do not have to do anything. You sit and have a chat with Isabella, and I will rush about the City putting everything right. By this time tomorrow, all will be well.”

Lady Scranton drew a shuddering breath as she looked up at him. “Why? Why would you do this for me? Lord Scranton refused to let your name even be mentioned in this house.”

Smiling his most charming smile, Mac lifted Lady Scranton’s limp hand in his. “I do it because I love and cherish your daughter.” He leaned and kissed Isabella’s cheek, letting his lips linger on her skin. “Stay with her until I return,” he murmured.

He squeezed Lady Scranton’s hand again, let himself out of the house, and was gone.

“What will he do?” Lady Scranton asked in trepidation.

“Exactly what he said he would,” Isabella said, knowing the truth of her words. “You can put your trust in Mac, Mama. The man does drive me mad, but one thing he is very good at is taking care of people. He has proved that time and again.”




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