For The Love Of My Scotsman (Complete!)

Truth Revealed

Lottie tucked the scrap of Thomas's trousers into her pocket and rode quickly back to the castle. She needed to hear the truth for herself. She refused to believe the evidence that he had... he had...

"Foolish man," she whispered, the blowing snow freezing the tears on her cheeks.

Once at the castle, Lottie slid from the saddle and slapped the reins into the stableboy's hand and ignored his shouts that the magistrate had found something awful.

Her boots slipped on the polished floors in the foyer as she ran through the front doors and towards the kitchen. But before she could enter the hallway down to the lower level, two men with rifles barred her way.

"Please come with us, Miss Lottie," one said, gesturing with his gun.

"Get out of my way," Lottie ordered, lifting her chin. "I am the charge of Lord Greyville, how dare you try to block me in my own home?"

The man growled and grabbed her by the upper arm.

"Let go of me!" Lottie shouted, reaching for her father's pistol in her pocket.

The man's companion grabbed her other arm before she could draw the gun and hauled her up the stairs. She fought against them, their hands on her arms making her nauseous with memories of Edmund and Le Coquin. She howled in frustration but they dragged her on until, at last, they reached the drawing room.

They pushed the door open and pulled her roughly inside. Her family and all the guests had gathered, sitting nervously as Mr. de Lacy paced the room.

Fidelia shot to her feet at the sight of Lottie's captors. "Unhand my sister," she growled, reaching into her pocket as if forgetting that she had loaned the gun to Lottie.

"We've brought the culprit, sir," one of the men said, ignoring Fidelia's demands and nodding to Mr. de Lacy.

"Let her go," William demanded, wrapping an arm around his wife's waist protectively.

The magistrate flicked his fingers and the men finally released Lottie's arms. She shoved them aside, her breath ragged as she fought to keep her memories in check. She wasn't at the abandoned mill with Le Coquin. She wasn't there. But she wasn't safe, either.

"What's the meaning of this?" she marched up to Mr. de Lacy and glared at him, but she faltered as his eyes flashed.

Edmund. Why did he have to look so much like Edmund? She blinked, trying to force the memories away.

"We found Mr. Farraday," the magistrate replied coolly, his face a mask of calm that set Lottie's teeth on edge. "Or what's left of him, at least."

The air froze in her lungs. She had to step back. "Where?"

"Behind the stables. It seems someone tried to bury him, but the ground was too frozen. They settled for covering his body with half of the manure pile. It hid the stench well enough, but it was sloppy work, I must say," Mr. de Lacy spoke lightly as if simply discussing the weather during tea and not a gruesome murder.

The manure pile. Lottie dropped her gaze to the floor. She had noticed the separate pile several nights before, but Thomas had dismissed it and she hadn't spared it another thought.

"Would you care to explain this?" Mr. de Lacy drew a notebook out of his coat's inner pocket, waving it back and forth through the air languidly.