Susan Johnson (22 page)

“If I ever have the opportunity to return this favor,” he said, indicating his bleeding flesh, “I intend to take advantage of it.”

“Am I supposed to be frightened? Of you, Colter? All you know how to do is lick English boots. Although I suppose you might be brave enough to take on a woman.”

“We’ll see, won’t we, who wins in the end.”

“I don’t want to win anything, Colter. I just want you out of my house.” She turned and opened the door. “You know the way.”

She washed her face and hands and changed into
fresh clothing before she returned to her children, calmer now that she’d exorcised not only her brother from her house, but some of the inchoate fury from her mind. She spent the day with her family, grateful to be home, pleased her children were safe and secure once again. She hoped the violence and personal challenges were over—Argyll pacified, Colter gone, the Carres aware of her feelings. It helped to be in the bosom of her family, in the familiar setting of her own home. It helped to focus her attention on what was truly important in her life—her children.

When Amelia came to visit later that day and saw how well the children were doing despite their ordeal, she was relieved. “Angus looks remarkably well,” she said as the ladies moved off to an area of privacy in the nursery.

“Mrs. Beattie’s regimen is wondrous. Thank you so much for your help as well.” Roxane smiled at her friend.

“I was just the messenger. Johnnie saw that the children were freed. Argyll is no longer a danger?”

“So I’m told.”

Amelia searched Roxane’s face at the small testi-ness in her voice. “That’s good news,” she carefully remarked. “Is Colter going to be a problem? I know how vicious he can be.”

“I think revenge is low on his list of priorities at the moment. With luck, I won’t see him again.”

“Johnnie was a miracle worker. He had the children back within hours of my contacting him.”

“I appreciate everything he did. I really do.”

“Why do I sense a but somewhere?” Amelia queried.

“Because I’m feeling misanthropic at the moment. I no longer care to be manipulated for some man’s purpose, nor to have my children exploited for male whims and ambitions. And while I know it was Argyll who ordered my children’s abduction, if I hadn’t been involved with Robbie and, by extension, with Carre politics, he wouldn’t have taken such drastic measures. Also, Johnnie made the mistake of patronizing me when I wasn’t in the mood to hear a dispassionate, It’s all taken care of After terrifying hours of not knowing my children’s status, I was supposed to ignore everything that had happened and go back home to my embroidery.”

“When you’ve never embroidered in your life,” Amelia said with a small smile.

“More to the point, when I’ve finally made an independent life for myself and can decide whether I even
want
to embroider.”

“Johnnie did get your children back, though. He deserves your gratitude at least.”

“I know. As well as repayment for Argyll’s sizeable bribe. I know John Campbell didn’t free my children out of kindness or charity. I’ll send Johnnie a thank-you note,” she acknowledged, “and a bank draft tomorrow. Right now, I’m still furious at men using me for their own selfish reasons. No one’s considered whether I may have selfish motives of my own. Perhaps I have my own vision of a contented life.”

“Without Robbie Carre?” Amelia softly queried.

Roxane sighed. “I don’t know … but I do know I’m still too angry not only at myself but at him for my children’s ordeal. And Robbie Carre and rational thought are still too tenuous a supposition to be sure of my
feelings. Even before the children went to Longmuir, I told him I needed time before deciding on life-altering judgments. And I do, even more so now. I want respite for myself, for my children, without any man coaxing or cajoling or threatening me.”

“Will you be allowed your privacy?”

“I intend to find out. I’m staying home for a fortnight at least and
won’t
be home to anyone. If any of our friends inquire, tell them with Angus recuperating, I’m currently devoting myself to my family.”

“And after a fortnight?”

A fierce gleam shone in Roxane’s eyes. “Then I’ll get on with my life.”

Q
UEENSBERRY TRIED TO CALL FIRST, BECAUSE HE
was intrigued by Colter Forrestor’s fabrication about being waylaid by rogues. Every caddy in Edinburgh knew Colter had been tossed out of Roxane’s house with all his luggage, looking very much the worse for wear; the duke didn’t need his spies to tell him that.

Additionally, Queensberry wished to know why Argyll had suddenly withdrawn from his pursuit of the lovely countess, and set her children free. He suspected the Carre brothers were instrumental. But it never hurt to hear the same story from several different sources.

Unfortunately, he was refused admittance to the countess, and when he attempted to push his way into the house, two young, strong footmen lifted him under the arms and placed him back outside. Undeterred, he moved to his second visit, Lady Carberry’s home, only a short stroll away. It was a pleasant sunshiny morning
and the walk gave him time to compose his thoughts. He’d been so long in the political game that at times like this, when the vast wealth of information was yet to be uncovered, he felt truly exhilarated, as though these initial moves in a mysterious drama required his skill and expertise to be fully revealed.

But Lord Carberry met him instead when he was ushered into the drawing room. And he understood that mining this particular field of information was going to be more difficult than he’d expected.

“My wife’s indisposed,” David gruffly declared. “Although she wouldn’t wish to see you anyway. We’re not interested in your company.”

“You’re in town early,” Queensberry pleasantly observed, as though David hadn’t insulted him.

“Leave your smooth-talking, James. I have no intention of telling you anything.”

“What makes you think I want you to tell me something?”

“Because you and I haven’t had a conversation for ten years. I’m sorry your army of spies is derelict in their duties, but I can’t help you.”

“Not even if what I wish to know might help your friend, Countess Kilmarnock?”

David snorted. “Help? You? I don’t think anyone in Scotland can remember the last time you helped anyone. Except maybe helping yourself to their fortunes or estates.”

“The Carres are both back, I hear.”

“Are they now? Good for them. Disturbs your sleep, does it?”

“You haven’t seen them?”

“Now, would I tell you if I had? Look, James, I don’t
know if you don’t have anything better to do, but I certainly have. I’ll show you out.” David took the much smaller man by the elbow. Like so many of his countrymen, Lord Carberry was tall and fair, his hair and beard red-yellow, his countenance and manner affable. His taste was for country life and country sports, and men like Queensberry with their penchant for evil offended him, when he bothered to notice. Forcing the queen’s Lord of the Privy Seal toward the door, he hurried the slighter man’s exit with a purposeful gait. “Lord Queensberry is leaving,” he said to his footman when he opened the door and shoved Queensberry out into the hall. “Show him the door.”

R
OXANE MAINTAINED HER HERMITAGE FOR THE
following fortnight, content with her children, pleased to be removed from the machinations and treachery of the world. Angus recovered completely, and the round of schoolwork and lessons for the children filled her days. Amelia came to call, but no one else was admitted, and from her Roxane heard what she wished of the round of social activities surrounding the upcoming session of Parliament.

Robbie had sent flowers, gifts, notes of apology, and love. But she’d not answered and she’d returned the flowers and gifts, not yet ready to forget all that had happened because of him, still not sure of her feelings. No revelation, prophetic or otherwise, had appeared to resolve her compromised emotions. But when she’d heard from Amelia that the Carres had successfully concluded their court case and that their titles and properties had been reinstated, she’d sincerely wished
them good fortune. Several days later, however, over tea, when Amelia mentioned the Carre brothers’ appearance at Janet Lindsay’s dinner party, Roxane found herself far from pleased with the news. “Robbie didn’t waste much time, did he?” she pettishly declared.

“Her husband wanted to be the first to offer congratulations once the brothers returned from surveying their properties,” Amelia replied. “He and Johnnie are old friends.”

“I don’t doubt Janet has set her sights on Robbie, now that Johnnie is no longer available.”

“You know Janet,” Amelia evasively murmured.

“I see. So how did Robbie respond?”

“He was gracious, I suppose.”

“How gracious?” A touch of aspersion colored her tone.

“You’ve returned every note and gift he sent you, including those fabulous diamonds. Are you expecting him to pine? Is that what you want?”

Roxane crumbled the cake on her plate with her fork. “I don’t know. I suppose I do want him to pine.”

“Forever? He’s eighteen, darling. Not precisely the age when women like Janet Lindsay are refused.”

She looked up. “Are you telling me he slept with her?”

“How should I know? Culross was there, though. Perhaps Janet is on her good behavior with her husband in town.”

“How fortunate,” Roxane sardonically retorted.

“You could have him back.”

“Until the next Janet Lindsay looks his way, or God knows who. How long did he wait after his heartfelt
declarations of love to me—two or three weeks?” She pushed her cake plate aside. “Certainly an indication of true love if I ever saw it.”

“You
could
talk to him, respond to his notes.”

“Why? Because he’s making eyes at Janet Lindsay now? I don’t think so. My God, if he’s going to succumb to Janet Lindsay’s overtures so readily, I really have been right in my hesitation. Blandishments of love that persist mere weeks,” she crisply noted, “don’t exactly fall into the category of undying affection. Janet Lindsay
would
be the first to offer herself, wouldn’t she?”

“She’s a predator of the first rank, no doubt of that. And she particularly likes young men. Remember, Lady Binns threatened to disinherit her son if he persisted in his amorous intrigue with Janet, and she finally had to show up one night and drag him out of Janet’s bed.”

“Good Lord, how old was Dalyell?”

“Old enough. He was just back from the Grand Tour. But Lady Binns wanted him for her sister’s daughter, and Janet’s allure was detrimental to her plans.”
¹⁶

“On second thought,” Roxane said, “perhaps I’ll attend your dinner tomorrow night after all. As an observer.”

“A little jealous?” Amelia remarked with a faint smile.

“Curious.”

“Are we going to be entertained by a lover’s quarrel?” she teased.

“I’m sure I can be as civilized as Janet Lindsay.”

“She’s a vicious little bitch, and you know it.”

Roxane’s eyes narrowed. “Do tell.”

R
OBBIE HEARD THE SOUND OF HER LAUGHTER AS
he reached the top of the stairs.

“Roxane’s here,” Johnnie casually said, keeping pace with his brother.

“I heard.” Shock vibrated through Robbie’s senses, and his pulse quickened. The light, joyous sound trilled again above the muted sound of violins, and all he could think of was wanting her. The feeling was so instinctive and compelling, he wondered how he’d survived without her. Rationalization and logic, his frenzied activities in their legal fight, cool pragmatism—everything he’d brought to bear to suppress emotion the last fortnight—instantly vanished.

“She seems in good spirits.”

“Doesn’t she,” Robbie grimly said, catching sight of her, coming to a sudden halt on the threshold of the drawing room. There she was, manifest in all her beauty, conspicuously female in a room of females, the only woman surrounded by a throng of eager, panting men.

Outrage flared through his senses at so many hopeful men smiling at her, laughing with her, wanting her attention—wanting more. But she was his, he moodily thought. She would always be his.

Radiant in cobalt green silk embellished with Brussels lace, she fairly glowed, the elegant gown a perfect foil for her sun-kissed skin and glorious red hair, the twinkling diamonds in her ears and at her throat
drawing attention to her beautiful face and lush breasts. Not his diamonds. Some other man’s.

Damn her. How dare she flaunt herself before all those covetous gazes? How dare they think she was available? The need to possess her twisted through his gut.

“Roxane must be feeling better.” His brother’s voice sounded distant through the roaring tumult of his thoughts. “She’s looking well.”

Robbie’s furious gaze swiveled around.

“Don’t make a scene,” Johnnie warned.

“I’ll just say a few words to her.” The explicit anger in his taut words brought stares from the footmen posted on either side of the portal.

“Keep your temper.” Johnnie’s brows had drawn into a scowl.

“Too late,” Robbie hotly retorted, and taking leave of his brother, he plunged forward, a man on the attack. The small groups of conversing guests in his path fell back before his determined advance, a sudden hush descending in his wake.

Everyone knew of his provocative arrival into Edinburgh, and his and Roxane’s sojourn in the south was equally the stuff of speculation and gossip in the small circle of Edinburgh society. As was her refusal to continue their relationship.

So titillation ran high as all eyes followed the Earl of Greenlaw’s purposeful passage across the drawing room. Breath-held expectation held sway.

Glancing up at the deepening silence, Roxane saw him, splendid in black velvet, fine lace at his throat and wrists, his hair ablaze under the crystal chandeliers, his temper equally aflame—on his face, in his
eyes, in the marching tread and the sharp tattoo of his embroidered black kid shoes on the polished floor. A flush of color rose on her cheeks, her chin came up in defiance, and she snapped her fan shut as though readying herself to use it as a poniard.