Borrowed Dreams (Scottish Dream Trilogy) (3 page)

She hesitantly sat down. The
expression of relief on the dowager’s face was immediate.

“Thank
you. You asked about family. Well, those remaining believe that if something
were to happen to me, then Lyon should be put in a madhouse.” Temper flashed in
the old woman’s blue eyes. “The Earl of Aytoun is not mad. He doesn’t belong in
Bedlam. I won’t have him tied and tortured, bled and purged, dosed with opium
and put on display for the rest of London’s
ton
.” 

“But there must be other treatments
for his condition. Every day there seems to be a new cure for yet another
ailment.” 

“I have tried every method and paid
a great deal of money, and seen no improvement in him. Just this past week,
there was an advertisement in the
Gazette
by a Mr. Payne at the Angel and Crown in St. Paul’s Churchyard. It claimed that sufferers from ‘loss of memory or
forgetfulness’ for two shillings six pence could buy a pot of ‘a grateful
electuary’ that would enable them to ‘remember the minutest circumstances of
their affairs to a wonder.’ I had Lyon try it, hoping to spur
some
response in him. Nothing.” She gave a dismissive wave. “I am tired of the
charlatans and the Merry-Andrews who eagerly endorse the claims of these
quacks. I am tired of giving my son highly colored pills that have no good in
them at all. You see, his legs and arm were broken, but now they are healed,
and yet he has no ability to move them. He cannot walk. He cannot even lift his
right arm. So the so-called doctors say he must have a secret disease. Those
from the university have but one answer: Bleed him and bleed him again. But it has no effect.”

“I am sorry, m’lady—”

“So am I,” the dowager said,
looking at her directly. “But I’ll have no more of that. And I’ll have no
madhouse for my son. And I’ll definitely have no more of these quacks with
their dung tea, stewed owls, and crushed worms. I am done with them all.”

“I know there are many, many
charlatans out there. But there must be some reputable doctors, as well.”

“Aye, there are. But the
reputable
ones, as you call them, are also at their wit’s end. Aside from
bleeding and purging, their only other suggestion is to keep him sedated.”

“Why? Is he violent?”

“Of course not,” the dowager
assured her. “But he has been terribly unhappy at Baronsford, the Aytoun family
seat southeast of Edinburgh. That’s where the accident happened. In fact, this
past fall he went so far as to insist on transferring control of all his
inherited properties to his brother Pierce, my second son. Not that his hasty
decision did any good for anyone. Pierce is not in England at present, and he
has no interest whatsoever in the family fortune. Besides, Lyon is the earl. He
is the one to whom our dependents look up to and—” She abruptly stopped and
waved a dismissive hand. “But Baronsford is the least of my problems right now.
The reason I brought it up is so you would know why I needed to get him away
from it. I need to find my son a place where he shan’t be reminded of his past
and what he has lost.”

Millicent’s nerves had once again
settled. She was calm enough to realize that no one could force her into
anything. The choices were hers; so were the consequences. “I still cannot see
how your proposal could improve the earl’s life. I am no physician, and I am
hardly capable of—”

“He needs to be out of Scotland. He needs a home with people who will care for him. Since your husband’s death,
‘tis no secret that you have provided a safe haven for the people Squire
Wentworth enslaved.” The dowager paused for a moment before continuing. “But you should know that I intend to make this arrangement as advantageous to you as ‘tis for my
son.”

Without waiting for the younger
woman’s response, she motioned to her lawyer to hand her a large sheet of paper
lined in the ledger style of banking clerks.

“My dear, this is a summary of all
the loans and promissory notes that Squire Wentworth left you. We went to a
great deal of difficulty in gathering them together. It may be that there are
some that we have missed. Your lawyer here can scan them at his leisure and let
us know. And as you know, there are a number of individuals who take great
enjoyment in revealing the painful layers of your indebtedness just to watch
you unravel.”    

Millicent reached for the proffered
paper and glanced down the list of debts. The totals at the bottom were huge,
but she would not allow her distress to show. She’d known for some time that
she was drowning. The depth of the water made very little difference. The end
result was the same. She handed the paper to Sir Oliver.

“What is it exactly that you
propose, Lady Aytoun?” she asked dully.

“A marriage in name only. A
business arrangement, pure and simple. If you were to agree to the terms, the
Earl of Aytoun shall come to reside with you at Melbury Hall. But he will arrive with his own manservant and servants. We have a new doctor who can travel up
from London on a regular basis. All you need to do is arrange for space for
these people. In return, my lawyer Maitland here will have all the debts listed
on that paper—and any others that are unfamiliar to us—paid in full. In
addition, these two gentlemen shall settle on a generous amount that will be
paid to you on a monthly basis to support the upkeep of Melbury Hall. It shall
be more than enough for you to continue to pursue your causes.”

Millicent’s head reeled with all
that the dowager had just proposed. She had spent endless nights awake, tossing
and turning as she worried about her expenses. The last six months had been
especially difficult. Lady Aytoun was offering her an opportunity to free
herself of the shackles of her husband’s debts once and for all. But the thought of the price she would have to pay kept pushing itself forward in her mind with
terrifying clarity. Marriage again. 

“What shall happen to our
arrangement, m’lady, if the Earl of Aytoun recovers from this affliction?”

“I am afraid there is no hope. No
doctor who has seen him recently believes…” The countess paused to quiet a
quaver in her voice. “None of them believes there is any chance of him
recovering.”

“But he might.”

“I envy your optimism.”

“I want a provision in the
agreement that, in the event of his recovery, a divorce will be uncontested.”

The dowager glanced at her lawyer.

Sir Richard nodded curtly, rising
from his chair. “Considering the nature of the marriage and the earl’s present
health, an annulment or a divorce could certainly be arranged.”

Sir Oliver agreed. “His present
state of mind makes it an arguable case for annulment.”

Millicent couldn’t believe how far
she had been persuaded. In her mind, she was actually weighing the benefits
versus the loss, and the scale was definitely tipping.

“Anything else? Any concerns that you have been left with?”

The dowager’s question lifted
Millicent’s chin. “Aye, m’lady. Why me? I am a stranger to you. Why did you
decide on me?”

“We did not settle on you without
serious consideration. Faced with my requirements, my lawyer here had a great
challenge laid at his door. His search has been painstaking. But I must tell you that your history and your reputation for goodness, combined with all that
Sir Richard was able to gather about your present financial situation, made you
the perfect candidate.” The older woman nodded approvingly. “I hope you are not
offended by the amount of poking and prodding that my people have been doing
into your past and present affairs. When they concluded, there was very little
about you that I did not know.” 

Millicent raised a curious brow.
For all her life, she had maintained a very private lifestyle. She doubted
there was much out there for anyone to dig into. 

“This surprises me, m’lady, and I
should like to hear a sample of what your people might have discovered about
me.”

“If you wish. You are Millicent
Gregory Wentworth, twenty-nine years of age. You have been widowed for a year
and a half. You were entered into an arranged marriage by your family.”

“These are facts easily obtainable.
They don’t say anything about the person.”

“That is true. But my meeting with you today has settled my mind about that. With the exception of an overnight
stay at their residence now and then, as in the case of this trip to London, you are practically estranged from your kin. Not that I blame you. Your family
consists of two older sisters and an uncle whom you do not trust, since he gave
you to Wentworth without any inquiries into the man’s character.” The old
woman’s hand smoothed the blanket tightly over her lap. “There is little
correspondence between any of your family. During your five years of marriage,
you never once confided to any of them about the abuse you were receiving at the
hands of your husband. You have very few close friends, but your pride does not
allow you to ask for help, even when you are desperate. What else? Yes, you are
involved in freeing your slaves—”

“My late husband’s slaves.”

“Indeed. Partly because of your efforts
to correct that situation, however, you are on the verge of being crushed under
the resulting financial burdens.” The dowager’s gaze swept over Millicent’s
face. “On a much more trivial level, you appear contented with your unadorned
looks and your obvious disinterest in style. Actually, you have never been an
active member of London’s fashionable set and, since becoming a widow, have
taken shelter within the walls of your country residence, Melbury Hall, at
Hertfordshire.”

“I have missed nothing important by
staying in the country, m’lady.”

“Quite true. And this attitude is
one of the things that I find most advantageous. You shall not miss the parties
in town during the Season nor hold a grudge against your husband for not
escorting you to London, or Bath, or wherever the
ton
is running wild at
the moment. In addition, you are a bright woman who is endowed with great
compassion. You have finally discovered the value of independence, and you are
now striving to wield the power that goes along with it. But to succeed, you
could very well use the protection of a husband’s name to keep the wolves from
the door.”

The battle inside Millicent raged.
She did indeed need the protection of a husband’s name in order to pursue her goals. Already she had found it nearly impossible to hire and keep a capable steward to
manage Melbury Hall. Even in going to an auction by the Thames, she found that
society demanded the presence of a male overseer, since obviously a man had
such a higher level of intelligence than any woman.

Millicent did her best to control
her temper and instead thought of her best friend’s story of the ten years that
she had spent in Philadelphia. Going under the assumed name of Mrs. Ford,
Rebecca had used the ruse of having a husband to establish herself and a
newborn in that city.

“What do you think of the offer,
Lady Wentworth?”

Millicent shook off her struggle
and met the dowager’s direct gaze. “Why today? What is the significance of this
marriage taking place today?”

“You don’t stay away from Melbury
Hall more than a day or two at the most. My guess is that you are traveling
back there tomorrow morning.”

“I am.”

“When I add that to my physicians’
predictions about the scarcity of sunsets and sunrises in my future, I could
not bring myself to tempt fate by waiting. There is too much at stake.”

“How does his lordship feel about
this great scheme you have been devising?”

The dowager drew a deep breath and
released it before answering. “I did not know if I would be able to convince
you, but I explained to my son that it would be out of your need for financial
support and not out of charity that the marriage might be arranged. Once he
heard that, he was resigned to it. He’ll not be pitied. Whatever else might be
stripped from Lyon, he will always have his pride.”

*****

Lyon Pennington, fourth Earl of
Aytoun, remained motionless in the seat before the window. The muscles of the
peer’s gaunt face were drawn tight beneath the dark, untrimmed beard. His eyes
were fixed on an invisible point somewhere out beyond the glass, out amid the
dreary scenery of Hanover Square. 

The earl’s two valets had laid out
a brocade coat, a silk waistcoat, a black cravat, breeches, stockings, and
silver buckled shoes for the wedding.  Neither man dared to approach him, though,
and they stood by the door, exchanging nervous looks.

“She’s here,” a young woman
whispered, coming in with a tray of tea.

She hurried to put the tray down on
a table near the earl. With a curtsy, she backed away and returned to where the
men were standing.

 “The dowager thinks,” she
whispered to one of them, “that the visitor’ll be looking to meet with his
lordship before the ceremony.”

Another serving girl walked in
carrying a tray of pastries. Following her, the earl’s man, Gibbs, entered the
chamber.

“What’re ye waiting for?” he
growled at the valets. “His lordship should be dressed by now.”

As Gibbs took a step toward them,
the two men moved to do his bidding. The earl’s man was as tall and as broad as
the great oaks in the deer park at Baronsford, and they both had felt the
weight of his displeasure in the past. One of the valets reached for his
master’s buckskin breeches. He looked uneasily at his lanky fellow servant, who
was picking up Lord Aytoun’s shirt. They were both still hesitant to approach
the master. 

The one called John whispered
warily to Gibbs, “’Slordship was none too keen about dressin’ this mornin’.”  

The two serving maids hurriedly
escaped the chamber.

“Aye, Mr. Gibbs,” the other valet
put in quietly. “By ‘slife, sir, Lord Aytoun near killed us both while we was
tryin’ to dress ‘im. Not till we gave him the tonic the new doctor left for ‘im
did he settle down at all.”