What Happens in Scotland by Jennifer McQuiston Read Free Book Online Page A

out what to do about you and this marriage you have gotten yourself into.”
    Georgette stayed planted in place. “There is nothing to sort out.” She pulled away from the unwelcome pressure of his fingers. “We shall pretend it did not happen. I cannot remember who the man is, and I do not wish to.” The idea of escape beckoned, and she gratefully turned herself over to it. “I shall return to London immediately, and neither of us need speak of this ever again.”
    Randolph’s face turned a mottled shade of red, making his blond hair almost seem to glow in contrast. “You cannot be that naïve,” he snapped. “You cannot simply hie yourself back to London and pretend a marriage didn’t happen, Georgette. What if you wished to marry again? Would you add bigamy to your crimes?”
    Georgette stiffened with shock. She had never heard Randolph say such mean-spirited things, not even as a carelessly cruel child. “What crime?” she protested. “I am a widow, and past mourning. ’Tis no crime to seek an evening’s pleasure. And I will not marry again, so I do not see . . .”
    “If you do not track him down and annul the thing, the man will have access to your fortune,” Randolph interrupted. He canted his pale head and took a menacing step closer. He enunciated slowly, as if she was a dimwitted child. “There is more at stake here than memory, Georgette. You have thrown away your future on a man you do not know.”
    She chose to ignore the condescension in his tone and focused on the message. It was the first time Randolph had mentioned her marriage settlement, which would be controlled by a new husband on marriage. She thought of those funds sitting safely in the coffers of the Bank of London. Thought of what a new, living husband could do to them.
    And she was stunned to silence.
    She had not thought this morning, had simply run. But she could see, reluctantly, that Randolph was right in this. She needed an annulment, or she would risk her future to a man who appeared nothing of the gentleman.
    And to procure an annulment, she needed to first find out who her Scotsman was.
    “My God,” she breathed. “You are right.”
    “Of course I am right.” The smile Randolph offered seemed to grip his face in a painful embrace. “And if you had only taken me up on my offer last night, you would not be in this muddle.”
    Georgette shuddered against the venom that laced her cousin’s words. A niggling thought surfaced, one that refused to be pushed away. Randolph, for all his uttered contrivances about wanting to protect her, seemed a little too focused on the financial difficulties of her impulsive night. She looked around, wondering where the groom had gotten off to. Her cousin’s interest bordered on indecent at times, and she wanted a body to step behind if the need arose. She spied the man leading the horse to the stable, within shouting distance if the circumstances called for it. She was reminded again that her decision to stay here, without proper escort, had quite possibly given Randolph inappropriate ideas about her own interest.
    She curled her fingers into her palms and dug until it hurt. “How do you propose we find him?”
    “There is no ‘we’ in this. I will find him, and you will stay here and resist doing further damage.”
    “But you do not know his name,” she protested. “You do not even know what he looks like. This is my fault, and it is my responsibility to undo it.” She worried the gold ring on her finger, the only piece of tangible evidence left from her eventful but ultimately unmemorable evening.
    Unless she was pregnant. Her toes clenched in her slippers as she considered such a fate. Dear God, she had not even considered that possible outcome when she had fled the scene this morning. She could not go through such a thing again, could not survive it.
    So why did a part of her seize up at the terrifying, tantalizing thought?
    As she stood frozen, her silent thoughts locked up