Earl of Exile (Lords of Scandal 3)

“I know you’re attracted to her,” Daring said low and close to his ear.

“And?” He knew he was being intentionally obtuse, though the end result was the same. He couldn’t marry Diana. He clenched his jaw. What would his friend think of his engagement? It was on the tip of his tongue to tell him and gain insight into possible solutions. But then he’d have to admit why he was engaged to Fiona and the circumstances around his cousin’s death.

“And? Men have married for a lot less.” Daring grabbed his shoulder, pulling him further behind the group. “We could be family, you big oaf.”

Exile nearly laughed but it wasn’t out of humor. “I can’t marry Diana. Even if I wanted to, I…” He stopped. He couldn’t hold the words back. “I’ve agreed to marry the woman promised to my cousin.”

“Ewan?” Daring’s mouth dropped open. “Christ.” He patted Exile’s shoulder. “I’m not familiar with Scottish customs. Would she be ruined if you didn’t offer for her?”

Exile shook his head, holding in a sigh. Did he tell him that the blade that had killed Ewan had been meant for him? “No. But she was supposed to be a countess. I didn’t want to take away her future. They’d been promised since they were children.”

Daring’s brow drew together. “And you felt this was your responsibility?”

Callum scrubbed one side of his face. “For a great many reasons, it is.” She wrote to him regularly. Nothing very long or terribly personal. But she tried. More than could be said for him.

“And your feelings for Diana?” Daring tilted his chin down, giving Exile a long stare.

Exile shook his head. Daring didn’t understand and wouldn’t unless Exile told him the entire truth, which he likely never would. “Irrelevant.”

The others rounded a corner but Daring didn’t try to keep up. “Explain.”

Exile shook his head. “We’ve fallen behind.”

“It’s my house.” Daring gave him a dead stare. “I know where the bloody music room is. Explain.”

He looked down at the floor. “I am responsible for my cousin’s death.”

“Hellfire and damnation,” Daring swore under his breath. “You’re not serious.”

“I am.” Exile swallowed. “I should have kept him safe, not endangered him.”

Daring put both of his hands on Exile’s shoulders. “Listen to me.” Then he smacked his collarbone several times. “You didn’t cut him with blade.”

He shook his head. “Tell that to my aunt. She’ll never forgive me.”

Daring drew in a deep breath. “That is difficult.” He dropped his hands. “I want you to think on this, though, because it is a thought I pondered often when considering Minnie. How much do you allow your past to affect your future?”

Exile shook his head. “Daring. I know ye mean well but I cannae undo my cousin’s death nor could I be happy if I left Fiona adrift in the world.”

Daring quirked a brow. “Is Fiona pretty?”

Exile snapped his mouth closed. “I don’t ken I’ve never met her.”

Daring’s head reared back as he smacked his chest with his open palm. “You’ve never even met her? How were the arrangements made?”

Exile’s face pulled taut. “My aunt made them by proxy. I dinnae like it, but I have to go through with the match. I want to be the sort of man on whom others can depend. Like Ewan was.”

“I see.” Daring’s hand fell back to his side. “But marrying a woman you’ve never even met? What if we could find Fiona a suitable match? Then both women could credit you with providing for their future.”

Exile cocked his head to the side. “Interesting idea. I hadn’t thought of it.” Then he shook his head. “I wish I were smarter like that. The club is the only way my lands even survive and even that wasnnae my design. It was yers.”

Daring slapped him on the back as they began walking again. “Well, on that account, worry not. If you married Diana, she’d be full of ideas on how to make your estate more profitable. That woman is so smart, it frightens me—and I’m married to Minnie.”

Exile drew in a deep breath as he puffed out his chest. Married to Diana? For one moment he allowed himself to dream of that possibility and it was glorious. But could he make that vision a reality?

Diana sat in the music room, shifting her chair as Lord Sinclair gave her another long look. His eyes twinkled with interest as he leaned closer, his shoulder subtly brushing hers. Nearby, Bad and Vice sat talking while Minnie sat herself down at the pianoforte and began to play.

Dear Lord, she should be enjoying the atmosphere but Sinclair’s attention just made her uncomfortable. He was too handsome, too sparkly, too perfect. He almost seemed…fake.