Lucy and Her Scottish Laird (16 page)

“Yes, of course I remember my mother’s name, you dolt! She was Caroline Merton, daughter of the Earl of Mobray.”

“Very good, my lady,” Henderson said, somewhat piqued at being called a dolt. But that was Aunt Arden. “I deem you fit to travel.”

“What? Because I can answer your foolish questions?”

“Precisely,” he said, turning away to pick up his hat. “Now that I know your brain is functioning at its normal capacity,” he
cleared his throat, “you may plan to leave upon the morrow.”

She clucked her tongue.

“Just take care with that arm, Lady Kildrum. Good day to you.” Dr. Henderson left the room and Lucy felt relief and dismay, all at once. She
was anxious to leave, and yet it gave her pause, knowing she would never again feel the raw excitement of Broxburn’s touch.

She shook her head. No, no – that was all wrong. She was waiting for the moment when she would see Joshua Parris again. It would be a desperately
long four mouths until she could return to the home and the people she loved, but to her dismay, the thought of Joshua did not bring about the usual wave
of longing.

It had to be due to her worry over Arden’s health, though she could not deny the turmoil Lord Broxburn caused her.

She had never felt such an intense quickening in her nether parts, nor such a deep connection to anyone. The look in Broxburn’s eyes had been
altogether enthralling, a look she’d never seen in Joshua’s eyes.

Lucy tamped down her doubts and took her leave, intending to stay in her room until their departure on the morrow, but Mrs. MacRae tapped on her bedroom
door. “Miss Stillwater,” the housekeeper said, handing Lucy a note. “From Lady Kathryn.”

Lucy thanked the woman and took the note, retreating into her room. She could not imagine what the earl’s daughter would have to say to her in
writing. Lucy unfolded the missive and read:

Dear Miss Stillwater, it was a great pleasure to see you again, and I hope we will have the opportunity to renew our friendship during my stay here at
Craigmuir Castle. I am looking forward to seeing you at supper.

Yours,

Kathryn

P.S. My family and I do hope your aunt is improving steadily.

Lucy sat on the chair next to the fireplace and read the note again, wondering why Kathryn had sent it. She’d never heard of one guest sending a note
like this to another, and she wished her sister, Meg, were there to help her gain some insight. Surely Lady Kathryn had plenty of friends.

Perhaps she was a bit shy now that she was actively pursuing Lord Broxton. It was quite obvious her parents were interested in snagging the marquess, but
Kathryn had not seemed quite as enthralled by the idea.

Or maybe Lucy was imagining things. Because what woman in her right mind wouldn’t be attracted to Broxburn’s masculine charm?

Ian did not find Lucy in the solar. He had to admit that was fortuitous, for – truth be told – he was in a foul mood. Dealing with his father
and worrying about the condition of the estate was enough to sour any man’s mood.

He caught Kindale in his bedchamber just as he was preparing to leave for Edinburgh. “I have a favor to ask, Malcolm,” he said. “And it
is not small.”

“What do you need?”

“I hesitate—”

“Don’t. Just tell me what you need,” Malcolm repeated.

“Stay until tomorrow.”

A wry grin spread across Malcolm’s face. “Ah.”

“Come to supper tonight and…”

“And?”

“You know,” Ian said. “Help deflect Auchengrey’s attention from me.”

“As a candidate for his daughter’s hand?”

Ian nodded. “I am not ready. My father is ill, and the duchess…You know she has not been well for some time, and her condition seems to be
worsening.”

“Of course. Your parents must be your priority now.”

“Thank you, Malcolm. You don’t know how much I appreciate it.”

“Say nothing of it,” Malcolm said. “What about Miss Stillwater?”

“Miss Stillwater?”

Malcolm chuckled. “I’ve known you a long time, my friend. And I have never seen you look at a woman the way—”

“She is spoken for.”

Malcolm raised a brow.

“She told me. About Parris,” Ian said. “Well, not in so many words, but she was clear—”

“And that is supposed to stop you?”

“Malcolm, I have a lot more to worry about than women at the moment.” He jabbed his fingers through his hair. “My father changed his
will.”

“What? No.”

“Yes,” Ian replied. “He bequeathed the Brodie property to Duncan, as well as the two other estates north of Edinburgh.”

“He will ruin them.”

“Aye.”

“What will you do?”

“MacAdams and Ferguson are dealing with it,” Ian said “I believe the problem will be solved in short order.”

“So, what about Miss Stillwater?”

Ian sat down on a chair near the window “I…” He did not know what to say, so he shrugged.

Malcolm took the seat across from him and spoke quietly. “Yes, perhaps the timing just isn’t right. There will be other opportunities,
Ian.”

Bad timing. Other opportunities.

Perhaps, but Ian did not think he would be able to banish Lucy Stillwater from his mind in the near future. If ever.

He realized Malcolm was attempting to be supportive, but his friend did not know all the issues that plagued him. Ian still could not bring himself to tell
Malcolm about his bastardy. He cringed at the thought of how his friends would treat him if they knew the truth of his parentage.

But he hated the lie, too. He was a fraud.

It was doubtful that the truth would ever come out, but
he
knew it. He would always know it.

He wanted to understand how it had come about – his father’s seduction of the Irish maid. Had it been an affair of the heart? Or had he taken
advantage of her the way Duncan had done with Aileen? Such behavior was unconscionable, and the idea that Ian might have been conceived in this vile manner
was despicable.

At least his father had seen fit to create the charade that had become Ian’s life. While it had obviously disgusted the duchess, it had likely saved
Ian’s life. Had he not been claimed by his father, he might well have died, along with the Irish maid. His mother.

Ian could not help but wonder about her.

“Will you be able to keep your father from drinking again?” Malcolm asked, interrupting Ian’s morose thoughts.

Ian shrugged. “I don’t know. Some of the servants might believe I am just being cruel.”

“Hmm. Some are bound to think that, which means they might try to circumvent your orders.”

“I’ve put the duke’s valet in charge of his care,” Ian said. He stood and headed for the door. “He will do his best to keep
my father from drinking again.”

“I wish you luck with that, my friend.”

“Shouldn’t you wear something a bit more…festive, my dear?” Lucy’s uncle asked her.

“I do not think so, Uncle,” Lucy replied. “It is not a formal occasion – or even festive, for that matter. And with my aunt lying
injured in her bedroom…”

Lord Kildrum held up one hand, chuckling. “You win. You look lovely, and you are right. With Arden lying here it is only right that we remain
somber.”

Lucy would hardly call her gown somber, but it was a good deal less festive than the one she’d originally thought of wearing.

Good Lord, what had she been thinking? That the sapphire blue dress with its capped sleeves, pearl embellishments, and low neckline would surely be enough
to entice Broxburn to…To what? Take her back to the ghillie’s cottage and have his way with her?

She shivered, but not from any chill. Some strange malaise descended upon her, with odd feelings that were entirely unfamiliar and unwelcome.
“Perhaps it would be best if I remained here with my aunt.”

“Oh, no,” Kildrum said. “That would be ungracious. Take your shawl, and let us go down. We will make a short evening of it.”

Lucy did as her uncle said, and she accompanied him to the great hall, wearing a modest dark red day dress with very simple lace trimming at her wrists and
neck. Her nerves were hopelessly frayed, and the excited smile Lady Kathryn bestowed upon her did not help.

“Miss Stillwater! Lord Kildrum! We are so very glad to see you!” Kathryn gushed.

“And you,” Lucy said, just as Broxburn entered the hall with Lord Kindale right beside him.

“Ladies,” Broxburn said, “Lord Auchengrey. I hope you have settled in.”

“Yes, very nicely, Broxburn,” Kathryn’s father said.

Kathryn slipped her hand through the crook of Lucy’s elbow, but Lucy hardly noticed. Her full attention was on her host, Ian, Lord Broxburn. He and
Kindale towered over the older men, and while Kindale smiled, his eyes shining with amusement, Broxburn seemed preoccupied. Lucy wondered if his
father’s condition had worsened or if something else bothered him.

The butler stepped into the hall. “Dinner is served, my lord.”

Ian escorted Lady Auchengrey into the dining room, while Kindale took Kathryn’s arm, and Lucy went in with her uncle. Lord Auchengrey brought up the
rear. It should have been a relief when Lucy was seated as far from Broxburn as was possible, but rationality did not appear to be the order of the day.
She did not want to notice anything about the man, yet his voice was deep and rich, as smooth as velvet, and seemed to penetrate her as truly as his…

Somehow, she managed to refrain from fanning herself with her hand. She could only think of the heat of his lips and the press of his body against hers.
She could not stop thinking about the tugging in her loins when he touched her breasts and her—

“You must all forgive me,” he said, “but we do not serve wine at Craigmuir. In fact, there are no spirits whatsoever in the
castle.”

His words did not surprise Lucy, because she knew of the situation with his father. But Auchengrey let out a low breath that sounded to Lucy like
disapproval, and Lady Auchengrey placed a hand upon her breast. “Oh, and I was so looking forward to a glass of sherry later.”

“I beg your pardon, my lady,” Broxburn said. “Unless you brought a bottle, we will have to make due with a bonny mulled cider, or tea, if
you prefer.”

“I am quite fond of cider,” Lucy said in order to break the tense moment, “much more than wine.”

Broxburn actually smiled for the first time since Lucy had met him. And that’s when the dimple in his cheeks deepened and Lucy’s heart actually
tripped in her chest. Her physical reaction to the man startled – and alarmed – her. She purposefully turned to Kindale, hoping to quell her
sizzling awareness of the marquess. “I thought you said you were leaving for Edinburgh today, my lord.”

“Aye. A wee change in plans, Miss Stillwater. I will go on the morrow.”

Her little interchange with Kindale did not help. She could actually feel Broxburn’s gaze upon her. “I-I am glad we will have a chance to visit
a bit before you go.”

He nodded. “And I.”

“Your cousin does not join us tonight, Broxburn?” Lord Auchengrey asked.

“No. He was called away suddenly.”

Lucy remembered seeing Mr. Munro from her window, leaving the castle grounds. She was not unhappy to see him go, however. He made her more than a little
uneasy.

“How do your parents fare this evening, Broxburn?” Lady Auchengrey asked.

“I am sorry to say there has been no change in their health,” Broxburn replied. Lucy had to admire the smooth answer, giving away nothing of
the duke’s true condition. It would not do for Broxburn’s father to be known in society as the Drunken Duke, or some such nonsense.

Footmen served the meal under Lockhart’s watchful eyes as the conversation turned to Lucy’s aunt, and their intended departure for Edinburgh on
the morrow.

“Papa, we will be staying at the Edinburgh house for several days before going on to Aberdeenshire, will we not?” Kathryn asked.

Her father nodded, though he looked perplexed. Lucy realized that Broxburn’s ill parents posed a conundrum for Auchengrey and his wife. Stopping at
Craigmuir Castle to stay while traveling was one thing. But they could not very well continue their visit – and any sort of courtship – while
the duke and duchess were ill. And it was unlikely Broxburn – the object of their matrimonial aspirations – could go to Edinburgh while his
parents were unwell. It seemed quite clear that Auchengrey would have to make his intentions known before they left for Edinburgh the next day.

“We shall visit you at your uncle’s house in New Town,” Kathryn said to Lucy.

Kathryn’s declaration startled Lucy. “Oh, I…That would be lovely.”

Although Lucy was not so sure about that. Kathryn’s overtures of friendship were tiring. She was a good deal more exuberant than anyone Lucy had ever
known, though perhaps that was not unusual for young Scottish ladies. Lucy was quite unused to it, and she had the start of a headache by the time supper
ended and she escaped to her room.

She was beyond relieved when her uncle told her they would leave Craigmuir Castle the following morning, right after breakfast.

Aileen was in the bedroom, turning down the bed. She was quiet and looked uncharacteristically somber.

“Do you have a headache, too?” Lucy asked.

“Perhaps a wee bit, Miss,” the maid replied.

“I hope it passes quickly, Aileen,” Lucy said. Aileen was usually all smiles and happy chatter.

The maid nodded without saying anything.

“Just unfasten my stays and you can go. You look like you could use some rest.”

Aileen gave Lucy the help she needed and left the room. Lucy washed her face and cleaned her teeth, and mused over the evening’s conversations.

She climbed into bed feeling more than a little bit irritated by the thought of Lord Broxburn and Lady Kathryn together. And she felt that way in spite of
the fact that she was in love with Joshua. She fell asleep picturing Broxburn and Kathryn standing together at the altar of St. Mary’s Church in
Reading – even though they’d probably never been anywhere near Berkshire.

Her dreams were not of this world, however. Images of Lucy’s church faded and Lady Béatrice called to her.