Kilgannon (17 page)

"And I can see that you could not handle life with a woman such as me. You should find yourself a woman who enjoys having no say in her life. I'm sure you'll find one."

"And what do ye mean by that?"

"I thought you were different, Alex, but when it came to it you're just like all the other men. You tell me that it will be as I wish, but you decide what's best for me. That was most illuminating. And in your arrogance you cannot even see why I might be angry."

He looked at me for a long moment, then leaned closer. "I'll just take my arrogance and leave ye be, then, Mary," he said, but I could see the hurt and I paused, unable to continue that way.

"Oh, Alex," I said softly. "What a way for us to part." He nodded slowly. "Aye," he said.

"Safe journey," I whispered. "Safe journey, Alex MacGannon."

"And to ye, Mary Lowell," he said. And left me. We all stared after him as he rode away. And then I gathered my skirts and turned to face my family and Robert.

MU
CH LATER, AT THE END OF THAT VERY LONG DAY, Ellen knocked timidly on my bedroom door and peeked her head around the corner. "Miss Mary," she said. "I thought you'd want these. Your aunt said to call if you were going to open them." She handed me the packages Alex had brought yesterday. It seemed a lifetime ago. I held them in my lap and tried not cry. I'd explained what had happened to Louisa and Randolph and Robert and then again to the Duchess and Duke when they arrived, and later still to Becca's parents. I'd found myself realizing that Alex had acted in what he thought was not only a proper but a necessary way. To my surprise Robert agreed, saying he would have done the same thing. I left them to discuss it and retired to my room. Now, Ellen said, all the guests had left and Randolph had fallen asleep in his chair.

"Please go and get Louisa, Ellen," I said quietly. "I'll open them." I turned them in my hands while I waited, wondering if the larger one contained anything as offensive as I had imagined.

When Louisa arrived she watched as I opened the smaller package and found the chocolate that had been promised. The larger one I'd imagined was a silk nightdress and robe, held instead a velvet cloak, a muted green, the color of the jacket Alex had worn the night I had met him, lined with a Kilgannon tartan. The red background caught the eye; the

green was the same as the velvet. It was very beautiful, finely sewn, and I remembered him saying, I had something made for ye. I canna wait to see ye in it. Obviously, I would not have taken offense at this gift. I felt tears spring to my eyes again, and I sniffed.

"It's beautiful," Louisa sighed. I nodded blearily, holding the soft wool to my cheek. "What does his note say?" she asked, gesturing to the note that had fallen from the folds of the cloak.

"Dear Mary," I read aloud. / had this made for you at home. The sett is a Kilgannon breacan and is one of my favorites. I hope that you will enjoy it and that you 'II think of me when you wear it. Yours, Alexander MacGannon.

I glanced at my aunt and then read the letter to myself again. Alex had written this note before our arguments, before the attack, I thought. Before I had angered him so. I would, I knew, think of him each time I wore the cloak. And every day, whether I wore it or not. The future stretched bleakly before me. I started crying again. "I should have gone to Cornwall with him. I wasn't brave enough or free enough; I cared more about my reputation than his feelings. And I was so angry that he made the decision for me without even asking me, without even thinking of what it would mean. Now I'll never see him again! Oh, Louisa, I don't understand! I know he loves me. He's not said so, but I know he does. He saved my life; he killed those men for me. Why hasn't he asked me to marry him?"

Louisa bit her lip. "He all but has," she said. "Both Randolph and I told him it was too soon when he asked to marry you months ago. He probably assumed you understood his intentions or that we told you we had all discussed it."

"Why didn't he ask me? Why didn't he tell me?"

"We told him it was too soon, but that was his plan. And he wrote to us later that he planned for you two to wed when you'd known him long enough. That's what he told Randolph when they went to his ship after you went to see him, when he was ill."

And so that story came out. Alex had told them back then that he planned to many me, and the men had told Louisa and Sarah when they returned. I smiled. Alex wants to marry me, I thought, and then corrected myself, my smile fading. Alex wanted to marry me. I looked at the note in my hand. Perhaps I had truly lost him now. It would be no more than I deserved. "Louisa," I said. "I've been a fool." My aunt shook her head.

"You're not a fool, Mary. Alex is. If a man has not asked you to marry him, you have no assurance of his intentions. I don't know why he didn't tell you. And you were right to refuse to go to Cornwall. You do have the right to determine the course of your own life. He was very high-handed, no matter how well meaning his motives." She sighed. "You need to talk to him."

"Yes," I said. "But how? He's gone." "Then write to him," she said patiently.

"Oh, yes, I will!" I hugged her. I would simply write to him.

It proved not so simple. Every time I put pen to paper I ended up crumpling the note. At last I wrote a short letter, thanking him for the cloak, then apologizing and saying that I would like to see him again. I sent it to Kilgannon. There was no reply.

London buzzed, as I'd known it would, with false versions of the attack and Alex's part in it, but with my family and Robert at my side, none dared to press the issue. I felt very protected. And lonely. I missed Alex at every moment. I would hear a voice of the same timbre and turn to be disappointed, or see a man of his height with blond hair and strain to see his face, only to be looking into the eyes of a stranger.

We decided we would go to Robert's estate as planned and after the Yule parties would retire to Mountgarden. Louisa said that by the time we returned after the new year, London would have other topics to discuss. It did not matter greatly to me what the gossips said. The irony was that in saving my good reputation I'd lost the desire to have it. How I wished I could return to that moment on Alex's ship when I'd asked him to take me home. My decision would be different now. But I couldn't turn time back and reluctantly faced the immediate future.

Robert. As kind as he had been, he was still Robert. I was grateful to him that he trusted both Alex and me to have told the truth, and I told him so, but I didn't feel what I had felt when Alex was near. I was comfortable with Robert, but then, I was comfortable with Will. It wasn't enough. And he must have sensed the same, for as polite as he was, he'd not asked me to marry him. I suspected I might go to my grave a much-maligned virgin.

We were among the first to arrive at Robert's Kent estate and were soon helping Robert and his mother greet the newcomers. I must stop thinking about Alex, I told myself. He surely has gotten my letter by now. I sighed. If he had wanted to marry me, why had this man, usually so direct, not just asked me? I thought of the distance to Kilgannon and consoled myself with the thought that perhaps my letter had not reached him yet. I tried to put my worries aside as I wandered, looking around Robert's grand rooms, wondering if one day I would be mistress here. Perhaps I would, if Alex never came back. And he might not. And if Robert asked me to marry him. And he might not.

The weather was cold but clear and we kept very active, which helped the days to pass. Robert was never far from my side and had me seated to his right at the huge table in the dining hall at every meal. Each night, sometime during the second course, he reached for my hand under the table. I felt I had no right to refuse him this simple gesture, but my heart was torn. I esteemed him, I respected him, yes. But I didn't love him.

The last night of our visit, when all the guests were gathered in the red parlor before dinner, Robert left my side and called for everyone's attention, his smile wide and his face flushed. This was so unlike Robert that several of his friends teased him about his big "surprise." I smiled as well, but a terrible fear began to grow while I watched the guests gather around and finally grow quiet.

"I have a surprise tonight for the lady I love dearly" Robert said with a large gesture to the door. Two footmen opened the double doors to the foyer and stood awaiting Robert's signal. To his left Robert's mother smiled and gave me a nod, her eyes sparkling. Louisa moved to stand on my left and gave me a sharp look. "This lady," Robert continued, "has brightened my days for many years, and now she will soon brighten this house as well."

Eyes turned toward me, and Robert gave me a smile. I took a shuddery breath. Dear God, I thought, he means to ask me to marry him in front of all these people. This cannot be happening. Robert gestured to the footmen, and we all turned to look.

Four footmen staggered under their burden as they entered, carrying a large rectangular object covered with gold velvet forward to Robert's feet. It was obviously a painting of some sort, and Robert smiled as he waited for the group to quiet again. Taking his mother's hand, he gestured to the footmen to remove the shroud, and the painting was revealed. Robert's guests clapped their approval. The painting was of Robert's mother and showed her seated in her favorite chair in this very room, posed in front of the same fireplace over which the painting would now hang. Robert's mother beamed and kissed her son's cheek, and we applauded, none louder than I.

"I thought you were going to ask Miss Lowell to marry you," shouted Jonathan Wumple, and the guests turned to look at me. Robert smiled and moved through them to stand in front of me, then bowed and took my hand. Dear God, no, I thought desperately.

Robert kissed my hand and kept it in his grasp as he turned to face the others. "Tonight we are celebrating my mother," he said, and the moment passed. I heard Randolph's sigh of relief.

If I had needed any clarification of my feelings, that night showed me where my heart was. I could no longer pretend. I could not even entertain the idea of marrying Robert. And that meant I could no longer give him the impression that I would. How ungrateful I felt. Robert, in the face of London's condemnation of me, had championed me. In his own way he was courageous and cared as little for convention as Alex. I could not belittle his generosity and steadfastness. But I could not lie to this good man and pretend that I loved him. It served me right to have had such arrogance to think that I was that important to Robert.

We left the next morning with the other guests. I had been careful not to be alone with Robert, but he seemed not to notice. As he handed me into our coach he smiled and kissed my hand, then said he'd be at Mountgarden within the week and turned to hand Louisa in behind me before I could answer.

Christmas came and went, and the following day Louisa and Randolph left to visit his sister. Will and Betty and I had three quiet days, then Robert arrived. I greeted him with trepidation, but my worries were for naught. Robert, holding my hand in front of the fire in my father's office, looked deeply into my eyes and told me he'd promised his mother not to ask me to marry him for six months. I stared at him open-mouthed while Robert blushed and stumbled through an explanation that made it very clear. His mother, while fond of me and vaguely approving of our marriage, wanted to be sure that any possibility of my carrying Alex's child was visibly demonstrated to the world. By June, Robert hinted, we would all know, and then he and I would talk about the future.

I flushed with anger, and Robert took it as shame. "I have never doubted your story, Mary," he said earnestly. "But this way there will never be any talk of whether ..."

"Of whether any child I might bear is yours?" I said coldly. Robert nodded, clearly unhappy. "As I thought. Thank you, Robert," I said, extending my hand, "for your honesty. It is very welcome. But I must tell you, for your own knowledge, that there is no possibility of my bearing any man's child. No man has been with me, not my attacker, the man in the Campbell plaid" -—he flinched, both at my tone and my words—"nor," I went on, "Alex MacGannon. He never touched me."

"Alex said he kissed you," Robert said with a spark of anger.

"Yes," I said, and took my hand back. "He did." I left the room. Robert left Mountgarden soon after that. Will was furious.

January passed slowly. I stayed in Mountgarden despite everyone's attempts to lure me back to London. Randolph even came to argue that I should go and beard the lions of chatter in their own dens. Staying in the country, he said, made it appear that I had something to hide. I smiled and thanked him but stayed where I was. And the Duchess came, full of kindness and news of other people. And of Alex. He'd been in London again, it seemed, and had visited her. When she'd mentioned me he said he had nothing to say about Mary Lowell. I resisted her invitation to return to London and thanked her for the news. She sighed and patted my hand. That night I folded Alex's half plaid away in the bottom of a trunk.

Robert did not come to see me. He sent flowers from his greenhouse and occasional tidbits from his estate. I sent his mother my thank-you letter for the Yule parties and received a polite, but distant, note in return.

I stayed in the country through February and into March, wrestling with my anger and my hurt and at last coming to terms with the fact that I'd never see Alex
again. No
doubt Alex had married Morag by now. I considered joining a convent and determined to never care for another man. I would never marry Robert. I'd be a doting aunt to Will and Betty's children. It would have to be enough.