The Last Debutante by Julia London

table and tucking herself up under his arm, draping it over her shoulders to help him walk. Jamie debated not using her as a crutch, but the sooner he could move, the sooner he could leave this wretched little cottage.
    He began to move, leaning heavily on her.
    “I don’t understand your reluctance,” she said as she slipped her arm around his waist to bear his weight.
    Jamie grimaced with the pain that sliced through him at each step, shooting up his side and back, into his shoulder.
    “Are you all right? Perhaps you should sit.”
    “I’m fine.” He gritted his teeth against the searing pain as they moved into the small parlor. An ornate clock ticked the seconds by with each excruciating step. He didn’t needto be reminded how slow and infirm he was, and turned away toward the windows. Surprise and relief filled him when he saw Duff and two of his men making their way down the path.
    Jamie turned Miss Babcock about so that she would not see them.
    She was oblivious to the change in direction, so intent was she on convincing Jamie to let them go unscathed. “I refuse to believe a man of your obvious stature would truly desire to see an old woman pay unfairly for her madness.”
    “Then you would be disappointed,” he said gruffly. His dog Aedus pricked his ears up and looked to the door.
    “Perhaps I could give you the banknote I brought Mamie? It’s not enough to cover your entire loss, but you might hold it as collateral until my father can send what is owed. That’s all I have to offer at present,” she said impatiently. “I didn’t come prepared to bargain on her behalf. How could I have—What is that noise?” she said, pausing, trying to turn her head to the window.
    Jamie prevented her from turning completely, but he couldn’t prevent Aedus from rushing to the door, his tail wagging furiously, dancing to be let out.
    “Is someone here?” Miss Babcock tried to move away from Jamie, but he sank against her at the same moment someone knocked on the door. “Mr. Campbell, if you please,” she said, pushing against him and exhaling with her effort when he would not release her.
    “Who is it?” Mrs. Moss cried, emerging from her exile. She looked frantic, her cheeks tear-stained and the skin beneath her eyes dark. She had changed her gown and tucked up her hair, but there was a wildness yet in her eyes.
    “Go on, then,” Jamie said to her. “Open the door.”
    “Let go, ” Miss Babcock said.
    Jamie did not let her go. “Open it,” he said again to Mrs. Moss.
    The old woman paled even more. But she walked to the door, pushed the dog aside, and opened it. She instantly stood back, lifting her chin high, defiant.
    Duff’s large frame filled the doorway. His gaze swept over Mrs. Moss, the room, and then fixed on Jamie. “ ’S fhada bho nach fhaca mi thu.”
    I’ve not seen you in a while.
    And Jamie had never been quite as pleased to see Duff as he was now. “Aye. Ran into a spot of trouble. What took you?”
    Duff glanced at the two women. He put his hand on the dog’s head, scratched him behind the ears, and responded in Gaelic, “I went back to fetch some men. I wasn’t certain what I might find. What in hell has happened to you, then?”
    “She shot me,” Jamie responded in their tongue.
    Duff looked at Miss Babcock.
    “No’ her,” Jamie added in English. “The other one.”
    Mrs. Moss gasped and took a step backward as Duff turned his large head in her direction. “Carson a?”
    “Why? I have my theories. But the lady will tell you it was quite by accident.”
    Duff’s face darkened as he stared at Mrs. Moss.
    Mrs. Moss, however, had made a slight recovery. “And who are you, sir?” she asked imperiously.
    “One of my men.” Jamie coaxed Miss Babcock forward. “Duff Campbell is his name.” The pain in his leg was excruciatingnow. But Miss Babcock’s loyalties lay elsewhere, and she tried to wrest herself free of him. Jamie clamped his arm around her, pulling her back