Her father was seated at the hearth with a book in his hand, a blanket draped over his lap. At his elbow, a glass of port. He smiled kindly when Bryce escorted her into the room. Margot’s beloved half brother, Knox, was standing at the window. He was dressed impeccably in a gold coat and dark brown pantaloons. He tried to smile at Margot, too, but he couldn’t seem to muster it and looked away.

In that moment, Margot knew something unpleasant was about to occur.

“Ah, Margot, my love,” her father said. “Come.” He beckoned her to his side. Margot pulled free of Bryce’s grip and went to her father, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “You should be abed, Pappa.”

“As should you, darling. It is unbecoming of a married woman to be so late in the company of gentlemen who are not her husband.”

He rarely mentioned Arran, and Margot thought it odd that he should mention him now.

“Which is why it now seems a good time for you to return to your husband.”

Margot’s heart fluttered with sudden anxiety. She glanced at her brothers. “I beg your pardon?”

“You are to Scotland,” her father said.

Margot gaped at him. “Why? Because I have dined at the home of Sir Andrews? I can’t go back to Scotland, Pappa!”

“Calm yourself,” her father said sternly. “You are needed.”

“Needed! How could I possibly—”

“Your husband is a traitor.” He said it suddenly and acidly, as if she’d brought him a diseased piece of meat, in spite of his having brought Arran to her.

“What? That’s not possible. There has obviously been some mistake—”

“The mistake is that you fled your marriage bed like a child and came crying home,” Bryce said angrily.

“Bryce,” her father said quietly. He stood up, walked to the sideboard. He poured a glass of port and held it out to Margot.

She shook her head, but he still held it out. “Drink it. Calm yourself.”

Margot refused to take it. She would not calm herself. “Who has said it?” she asked. “Who has made you believe such a foul thing?”

“I have heard it from a reliable source. Don’t look so shocked—I warned you there would be consequences for fleeing your husband.”

She blinked at him in disbelief. He’d never warned her of anything! “You told me he was a barbarian,” she reminded him.

“I did not make your match lightly,” he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. “I staked my reputation on that match, vouching for the honor of all of Scotland for the sake of your children and my heirs.”

For her children! He had vouched for it to line his own pockets. Margot looked at her brothers. Bryce was watching, but Knox was staring down at his feet. “What has happened?” she demanded.