Scandal's Bride by Stephanie Laurens Page B

head, there’s no use in having the vapors now. We must all get together and see what can be done, what can be salvaged.”
    She continued, moving the direction of her thoughts, and Meg’s and Cordelia’s and their husbands’, into a more positive vein. But that vein followed the line of what to do to cope with this unexpected shock; at no point did she, or anyone, not even Jamie or Mary when they joined the group, allude to any alternative.
    Not once did Catriona glance his way; it was almost as if she’d dismissed him from her mind, forgotten his existence. As if they’d all forgotten him—the dark predator, the interloper, the Cynster in their midst. No one thought to appeal to him.
    To them all, not only Catriona, the outcome was a fait accompli . They didn’t even bother to ask for his decision, his answer to Seamus’s challenge.
    But then, they were the weak and helpless; he was something else again.
    â€œAh-hem.”
    Richard glanced up to see the solicitor, his papers packed, peering at him. His exclamation startled the others to silence.
    â€œIf I could have your formal decision, Mr. Cynster, so that we can start finalizing the estate?”
    Richard raised his brows. “I have one week to decide, I believe?”
    The solicitor blinked, then straightened. “Indeed.” He shot a glance at Catriona. “Seven full days is the time the will stipulates.”
    â€œVery well.” Uncrossing his legs, Richard rose. “You may call on me here, one week from today”—he smiled slightly at the man—“and I will give you my answer then.”
    Responding to his manner, the solicitor bowed. “As you wish, sir. In accordance with the will, the estate will remain in trust until that time.”
    Quickly gathering his papers, the solicitor shook hands with Richard, then with Jamie, stunned anew, then, with a general nod to the rest of them, quit the library.
    The door shut behind him; the click of the latch echoed through the huge room, through the unnatural stillness. As one, the family turned to stare, dumbfounded, at Richard, all except Catriona; she was already staring at him, through ominously narrowed eyes.
    Richard smiled, smoothly, easily. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll stretch my legs.”
    With that, he did so, strolling nonchalantly to the door.
    * * *
    â€œDon’t get your hopes up.” Brutally candid, Catriona all but pushed Jamie into a chair in the parlor, then plopped down on the chaise facing him. “Now, concentrate,” she admonished him, “and tell me everything you know of Richard Cynster.”
    Still dazed, Jamie shrugged. “He’s the son of Da”s first wife—hers, and the man the English government sent up here one time. A duke, he was—I’ve forgotten the title, if I ever heard it.” He screwed up his face. “I can’t remember much—it was all before I was born. I only know what Da’ let slip now and then.”
    Catriona restrained her temper with an effort. “Just tell me everything you can remember.” She needed to know the enemy. When Jamie looked blank, she blew out a breath. “All right—questions. Does he live in London?”
    â€œAye—he came up from there. His valet said so.”
    â€œHe has a valet?”
    â€œAye—a very starchy sort.”
    â€œWhat’s his reputation?” Catriona blinked. “No—never mind.” She muttered beneath her breath: “I know more about that than you.” About a man with lips like cool marble, arms that had held her trapped, and a body . . . she blinked again. “His family—what do you know of them? Do they acknowledge him openly?”
    â€œSeemingly.” Jamie shrugged. “I recall Da’ saying the Cynsters were a damned powerful lot—military, mostly, a verra old family. They sent seven to Waterloo—I