Cowboys and Highlanders (69 page)

“Phoebe,” her aunt scolded. “Really.”

Phoebe ignored her and said to the duchess, “I warned the duke that I might not be the sort of wife he wants for his son, but he wouldn't listen. Having met me, you may feel the need to warn him. I would fully understand.”

The twinkle returned to the duchess' eyes. “Far be it from me to contradict my husband.”

Phoebe nodded politely. “You're the epitome of womanly virtue, ma’am.”

A look of comical horror crossed Elise’s face. “You probably shouldn't repeat that to my husband
or
Kiernan. Well, I believe I have overstayed my first visit.”

Lady Albery came to her feet.  “No, indeed, Your Grace. You're welcome to stay as long as you like.”

Elise looked at Phoebe. “Decide when you would like to visit Ashlund. Though I’ve only just arrived, I will be glad to return.” She smiled. “My decision to come to London was a bit hurried, therefore, my children didn't accompany me.”

“I imagine you miss them.”

“Very much.”  She rose and Phoebe followed suit as the duchess addressed Lady Albery. “Madam.”

“Your Grace.” Lady Albery curtsied.

Phoebe escorted the duchess to the door.

“If I might suggest, ma’am,” Phoebe said as she opened the door “Don't wait for me to return to Scotland.”

Elise stopped. “I assumed we would travel together.”

“Don't stay in London on my account. Return home and your children,” Phoebe said. “My uncle will see to my travel arrangements.”

“Phoebe," Lady Albery said, "surely it is wise for you to travel with the duchess.”

“It is neither wise, nor unwise,” Phoebe said. “I shall come to Scotland, Elise.” Lady Albery gasped, but Phoebe went on, “Only don't press me as to the time just yet. I promise it won't be long, within a fortnight, I think.”

“I can wait,” Elise said.

“I ask that you don't. If, by chance, I'm not ready within the allotted time, I don’t wish to have kept you from your children.”

The duchess smiled. “No matter your decision concerning where you will hold the wedding, you will stay for some time.”

Phoebe nodded. “I think I will.”

Elise lifted a brow. “You realize what will happen if you don’t come to Scotland?”

“I imagine,” Phoebe said, “there will be another abduction.”

*****

Phoebe picked up William Godwin's
A Tale of the Sixteenth Century
from the bookstore shelf and opened the book. After Elise left earlier that day, Lady Albery was all agog over her visit, and Phoebe had been forced to flee her aunt's company. The bookstore was her final stop on her list of errands, but she dreaded returning home where her aunt would likely ply her with more suggestions for her wedding. It was clear that Lady Albery disapproved of the wedding being held in Scotland.

“So,” came a familiar male voice, “I understand we are to return to Scotland?”

Phoebe whirled, knocking a stack of books from the store shelf. “By heavens, sir,” she exclaimed.

She started to reach for the scattered books, but halted, narrowly missing a collision with Kiernan’s head as he bent to pick up the books. He gathered them in one arm. Phoebe took a step back when he straightened, and tilted her head back in order to keep eye contact. He set the books on the shelf.

Her stomach did a somersault. “Are you going to make a habit of scaring the life out of me?"

Curiosity flickered in his eyes. “I can’t say," he replied. "Catching you unawares has its appeal." He smiled. “The blush on your cheeks is quite becoming.” She froze when he trailed a finger along her cheek. “What man wouldn't be gratified to incite such a reaction in a beautiful woman?”

Warmth pooled between her legs. Could he sense this reaction as easily as her blush? He took her free hand and lifted it to his lips, eyes locked with hers as he pressed his lips to the back of her hand. When he released her, she realized her heart was pounding…and that he had, indeed, sensed her desire.

“Have you any purchases you wish to make?” he asked.

Phoebe broke from the trance. “Yes, these two novels.”

He took the books she held and read out loud, “William Godwin,
A Tale of the Sixteenth Century
.” He looked at the other volume. “
The Pickwick Papers
by
Charles Dickens. I'm not acquainted with this fellow.”

“He has only just published.” Phoebe took the books. “I heard he is quite good.”

“They will make fine reading during the trip to Ashlund.” Kiernan cupped her elbow and directed her toward the front of the shop. When they reached the counter, he plucked the books from her grasp. “Tate,” he addressed the man behind the counter, “please add these to my bill.”

“Sir.” She reached for the books, but Kiernan handed them to Tate, who began wrapping them in paper.  “Ashlund, I don't need you to pay for my purchases.”

“Of course you don’t,” he replied. “But it's my pleasure to do so.” He smiled the same soft smile she had witnessed two nights ago at the Halsey soirée, and memory of his lips on hers caused her knees to weaken.

Tate offered the books to Kiernan, who seemed not to notice.

Phoebe reached for the books, but Kiernan captured her hand in his and took the books with his free hand. “Thank you, Tate.” Kiernan tucked the books under his arm, then maneuvered her past other shoppers and out the door.

“Have you a carriage?” he asked.

“I took a cab. It's chilly, but the day is so lovely, I planned on walking at least partway home.”

“A wonderful idea,” he said. “I'll accompany you.”

He grasped her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm. They started down the street, and the slight movement of his arm as they walked caused the muscle beneath her fingers to flex. She couldn't halt her gaze from snapping onto the hand covering hers. His long, tanned fingers enveloped her hand and she became aware of the warmth of his flesh.

“Have you decided upon a date for going to Ashlund?” he asked. "By carriage, it's four or five days. Really, you needn’t bother your uncle for a coach. We can travel in mine.”

This caught her attention. “I can't say when I'll go. It's likely, I will decide the day before I leave.”

“I require no more than an hour’s notice.” He directed her to the right of the walkway when another couple approached.

“Don't rely on me for notice,” she said.

He smiled genially. “I'll ask your uncle to inform me. I understand you'll be busy with the details of the journey.”

"My lord," she said in frustration, "I don't plan on traveling with you."

“Don't worry about imposing on me, Phoebe. I'm looking forward to spending time with you. You'll forgive me if I ride horseback most of the way, but we'll stop for refreshment at your pleasure and, of course, we'll have the evenings.”

Phoebe started. Was that a sultry note in his voice?

"Phoebe?"

She realized he was staring and could only think to say, “I don't plan on riding in your carriage—any carriage, for that matter—all the way to Scotland.”

He grinned. “Of course, I should have guessed. It's obvious you wouldn't enjoy the confines of a carriage for long.” He halted at the end of the lane and waited for a cab to pass before leading her across the street. “I have an Andalusian,” he went on like an excited school boy. “You must ride him.” Her astonishment must have shown on her face, for he added, "He's a gelding. You can handle him with ease. You will love him. He's a bay. The shading on his coat is magnificent and his presentation is spectacular.”

“Where did you get such a horse?” she asked.

“My father’s doing. A trader recommended the beast, and he had the horse imported from Spain. Do you know the breed?”

“I do, though I've never ridden one.” And she couldn’t deny a thrill at the prospect of riding such a fine animal.

Kiernan applied gentle pressure to her hand. “Now, you shall.”

He hailed a passing Hansom cab. The driver pulled up and Phoebe found herself handed up into the seat with Kiernan sliding in beside her.

“I'm not finished with my shopping,” she said.

His brow lifted in surprise, but she had the distinct impression he wasn't surprised. When he said, “It's growing late. You'll need rest before attending the Blakely soirée this evening,” she knew she was right.

“I'm not going.”

“Surely you don't want to miss the party?

She regarded him. “How did you know where to find me?”

“Your aunt, of course.”

“Of course.”

“I'll call for you this evening at ten," he said. "Perhaps your aunt would care to join us. It's beneficial that we're seen in public together and she's a perfect chaperone.”

“Beneficial for whom?” Phoebe asked.

“You did say a year's engagement,” he replied. "And I said I would court you in that year."

He'd said
"…pursue you, court you and, lastly, seduce you
” to be exact, and she had yet to decide on a firm course of action to avoid his suit while she investigated the information in Stafford's journal.

"I have been straightforward with you," he said.

“Really?" she replied. "You never mentioned that you obtained a special license.”

“I would be remiss not to be prepared.”

“May I see it?”

A corner of his mouth twitched. “Had I known you wished to see it, I would have brought it with me.”

“I would think you would keep it on your person at all times. You know,” she raised her brows, “in the interest of being prepared.”

“Quite right,” he said with more enthusiasm than she cared for. “I'll put it in my pocket the moment I return home. Shall I procure a change of horses for my carriage tonight?”

“If you like. That way you can ride onto Scotland early.”

“No,” he said. “I'll await your pleasure.”

“My pleasure, indeed.”

“What’s that you say?” he inquired in a polite tone that told her he had heard her.

“When we arrive to Scotland, will you take me about the countryside?” she asked.

He gave a genuine smile of pleasure. “Of course. Anywhere you like.”

“I wish to ride north. I've never been farther into Scotland than Brahan Seer. The castle is in the very south of the Highlands, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he replied.

“I would like to visit Kildonan parish, or even farther north to Ldderachylis.”

He showed no consternation at hearing that she wished to visit territory owned by the Duchess of Sutherland.

“Kildonan and Ldderachylis are some distance away,” he replied amiably. “Perhaps we should save that trip for after our marriage.” The cab came to a halt. Kiernan peered out the window. “We have arrived.” He opened the door and helped her from the carriage. He raised her hand to his lips. “Until tonight, my dear.”

“I make no promises.”

He caressed her cheek. “I'll be here at ten.”

He turned and his coat went taut over his broad shoulders as he grasped the door and vaulted back into the carriage. Phoebe didn't move, her legs once again weak as a kitten. He waved once, then leaned back and disappeared into the depths of the carriage. Phoebe released a breath and turned, but halted suddenly, whirling. She raised her hand to gain the rider’s attention, then dropped it back to her side when the carriage turned the corner.

“My books.” With a sigh, she started up the walkway to Shyerton hall.

Chapter Fourteen

At hearing her uncle's voice through the partially open door of the drawing room that evening, Phoebe halted in the hallway. “Lady Albery,” he was saying. “would you see what is keeping Phoebe, please?”

“What keeps Phoebe,” Phoebe muttered, “is the question of whether life in Newgate is worth shooting a certain marquess.” She opened the door and saw Kiernan rise from the chair located beside the couch where the Duke and Duchess of Ashlund sat.

“Phoebe." He crossed the room. “I'm pleased to see you.”

“Forgive me, Lord Ashlund. The time slipped by. Before I knew it, the clock had struck nine.” The hour she received his note saying that the duke and duchess would accompany them to the soiree.

Kiernan kissed her hand, lingering a second longer than was appropriate before releasing her. “You look lovely tonight, my dear. My father and Elise are here.”

“Yes,” Phoebe replied. “I received your note
an hour ago
.”

He gave no outward sign of noticing her reprimand and led her forward, stopping before the duke and duchess.

“Your Graces.” Phoebe curtsied.

The duke rose and took her hand in his. “Remember, lass, call me Father.”

Elise stood and gave her a hug. “So good to see you again, Phoebe. I hope all is well with you."

“Very well,” she replied. “But I have kept you waiting long enough. Shall we go?”

“Phoebe,” Kiernan said, “before we go, I have something for you. My father and Elise accompanied me this evening for a very special reason.” Kiernan reached into his pocket and produced a square velvet box.

Phoebe's heart jumped into her throat. "Lord Ashlund—"

“This was my mother’s.” He opened the box to reveal a single strand, diamond and emerald necklace, matching earrings, and a heavy banded emerald ring. He removed the ring and handed the box to his father.

Phoebe took a step back, but Kiernan caught her hand. Her hand felt ice cold against his warm fingers and her hand trembled as he slid the emerald onto her finger.

He looked at her and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “She would have liked you.”

“You should have waited,” Phoebe whispered, and cast an anxious glance at the duke. “Nothing has been decided.”

He gave a soft smile that said everything was, indeed, decided.

Kiernan released her and when he took the necklace from the box, Phoebe stood stock still while he walked around behind her. As she had the first night he’d kidnapped her, she wore her golden hair up. He settled the necklace around her neck. The cold stones seemed to seer her flesh, to scream
faker
.

While closing the clasp, he leaned forward and whispered, “One year, Phoebe. It would be wrong for me not to give you what is rightfully yours.” He grasped her shoulders and turned her, then reached for the earrings. Kiernan clipped one on each ear, then took a step back and surveyed her.

“Perfect. Have you a cloak?”

“In the hallway.”

“Then we are ready?” Kiernan surveyed the group.

“Oh, yes, indeed, sir,” Lady Albery said, dabbing at the moisture in the corner of her eyes.

“My dear.” Lord Albery retrieved a handkerchief from his breast pocket and gave it to her.

She took the handkerchief, again dabbed at her eyes, then pulled Phoebe into a hug. “Phoebe, my dear.” Lady Albery straightened, then paused and touched the necklace. “Breathtaking. You are most fortunate.” She blushed. “Do forgive me, everyone. I hadn’t realized how this would affect me.”

Phoebe frowned. “You knew of this?”

“Of course. Lord Ashlund informed us he would be presenting you with the family jewels tonight. I couldn't be more pleased.”

Phoebe looked at her uncle. “And you, sir, are you pleased?”

He gave a nod. “I am.”

Kiernan took her arm. “Shall we go?”

She looked at him. “It seems I am at your full command.”

Or was that at his
beck and call
?

*****

"You received my letter?" Ty's mother asked as they sat on the couch in her chambers' anteroom the following morning.

"I did."

"My God," she exclaimed, "can you imagine? The marquess kidnapped Phoebe."

No, he couldn't imagine.

"Have you seen her yet?" Lady Albery asked.

"I only just arrived and you waylaid me before I could find her."

"Ty, what are we to do? Albery has ordered her to marry him. To make matters worse, Ashlund gave her his mother's jewels last night. Emeralds and diamonds."

"Worth a fortune, no doubt," Ty commented.

"Yes," she replied. "You must take action immediately. She can't marry him."

Ty eyed his mother. "That's a new morning dress you're wearing. Madam Bellievau, if I’m not mistaken."

"Well, yes," she said in a fluster. "This is one of her creations. You always did have a good eye."

"That dress must have cost a king's ransom. What does Albery think of that expenditure?"

"He can't balk over this," she said in a rush. "I must dress well. After all, I am the wife of a viscount."

"So he has yet to see the bill."

"I didn't ask you here to talk about my wardrobe," she shot back.

"But you did. I tell you, madam, that when I come in possession of Phoebe's money, I no more intend to finance your whims than does your husband."

"So you haven't given up hope. Oh, Ty, I can't tell you how relieved I am."

"Mother," he began.

"Don't discipline me, Humphrey. I am quite capable of staying within a budget."

"On the contrary, you have never even seen a budget."

"Never mind that, you must make haste if you are to marry her before the marquess."

"I have no intention of marrying her just yet."

His mother's eyes widened in horror. "How are we to survive if you don't?"

"You will survive quite well," he said. "As for me, I have matters in hand."

A speculative gleam lit her eyes. "Clive mentioned that the marquess might meet with an accident."

"Clive will do well to mind his own business."

"Still, isn't it taking a chance to wait?" she went on as if not hearing him. "How long would you have to wait before—"

"No more expensive dresses, Mother, and more important, no more gambling. I don’t want your husband learning of your indiscretions—which includes Clive." She opened her mouth, but he cut her off. "Defy me, and I'll leave you to drown in your debt." He rose, dropped a kiss on her cheek, then left.

Ty paused in the hallway, outside the door. So Clive was cultivating his own plans, despite Ty's warning to stay out of the affair.

Perfect.

*****

Phoebe stared down at the card sent by Lord Redgrave saying how much he was looking forward to seeing her tomorrow. Her two-day reprieve had ended. Tomorrow evening, the Duke and Duchess of Ashlund were hosting an intimate dinner party of one hundred or so of their and her uncle's closest friends in order to officially announce her and Kiernan's engagement. Redgrave's note was a warning to be there.

Guilt tightened her stomach. The duke and duchess were making a sincere effort to draw her into their family. She liked them. Heaven help her, she liked Kiernan—more than liked, if she was honest. How would she face the duke and duchess if she became the instrument of their son's downfall? How would she face them even if she simply cried off from the wedding? One way or another, things weren't going to end well.

The pad of feet on the carpet snapped her attention in the direction of the door. She groaned. Not another visitor. The endless stream of well-wishers her aunt had allowed into the house had become a nuisance. Before she could think of an excuse to deny her aunt's latest visitor, the door opened and her cousin entered.

"Ty," she said with relief. "I didn't know you were back in London."

He crossed to the couch where she sat and lowered himself onto the cushion beside her. "You sound glad to see me."

She laughed. "I am, of course, but I'm just as glad you're not another gossip monger come to see for herself how it's possible that the daughter of a traitor snagged a marquess."

He draped an arm over the top of the couch. "As bad as all that?"

She grimaced. "Worse. How have you been? I haven't seen you in some time."

"The damn property Albery has in Coventry is giving me trouble," he replied. "I've had a devil of a time with the carpenter hired to reconstruct the walls in the blue bedroom."

Phoebe frowned. "I was there three years ago and didn't notice that house was in such disrepair."

He shook his head. "Wood rot. I only just discovered it myself."

He couldn’t be any more surprised by the wood rot than she could by his caring about the house. Was her cousin finally accepting responsibility for the property that would one day likely be his?

"I understand congratulations are in order," he said, and she was even more startled by the
brotherly
expression on his face.

"Oh. Yes, thank you."

His brow lifted. "You don’t seem ecstatic."

"As I said, the never ending visitors have grown tiresome."

"That'll end soon enough," he said.

"Not nearly soon enough."

"Surely that can't have you so disheartened? What's wrong? Has something happened with Ashlund? Is he getting cold feet?"

Embarrassment rushed through her at the realization that Ty must know what had transpired between her and Lord Ashlund. Of course, that made sense. Her uncle might not tell him, but his mother, her aunt, would.

"Not at all," Phoebe replied with light airs. "If anything, he's too ardent."

"If he's giving you trouble, I'll pay him a visit."

She snorted. "If he gave me any trouble, his father would deal with him." Damn the duke.

Ty scrutinized her. "You're not keen on his suit."

"You're aware that I am not interested in marriage."

He shrugged. "I knew you weren't interested in any of your recent suitors, but surely you knew marriage was inevitable?"

"I did not."

"Ahh," he intoned. "You believed you would be left to amuse yourself with your inheritance."

"Why not?" she replied irritably, then released a sigh. "Forgive me, Ty. You're being kind, and I'm not."

"Ashlund is filthy rich. How could he possibly need your paltry fifteen thousand pound yearly income?"

"He said I could keep the money," Phoebe replied.

"There you have it. Once your new husband has his heir, you'll be free to go on as you always planned." Ty rose. "I'll see you tomorrow night."

Frustration welled up in her, but she nodded.

"Chin up, Cousin," he said. "You love a good party. Especially of late." With that he was gone.

Phoebe stared at the door after he'd closed it, wondering what had inspired her cousin's familial interest in her, and what he meant by 'especially of late.'

*****

Kiernan looked up from the article in the
Satirist
. The newspaper wasn't his regular read, but he'd found it with his morning mail, sent from someone signed
A Friend
. He could well imagine the friend was any number of London society women who delighted in vicious gossip. Even a so-called gentleman or two might be the culprit. Either way, by now, all of London society would have read or been told about the article.

Regan took a swallow of coffee, then set the cup on its saucer and picked a piece of bacon off the plate that sat alongside a platter of scrambled eggs. "Miss Wallington is going to be none to happy with this turn of events."

Kiernan set the newspaper on the table beside his breakfast plate. "News of our time together in Scotland was bound to reach London. She was foolish to think otherwise."

"True. But one wonders who filled in the intimate details."

"Yes." Kiernan looked at the paper and the headline,
London Heiress kidnapped by the Marquess of Ashlund
.

"Who do you think sold the story?" Regan asked.

"No one in my household," Kiernan said. "It must be someone in Phoebe's house."

"Her coachman, Calders?"

"Perhaps, but it's just as possible one of her other servants got their greedy hands on my father's letter to Lord Albery."

As if Kiernan had summoned the duke, he appeared in the doorway.

Regan rose. "Your Grace."

"Sit down, Regan," he said, his eyes on Kiernan, "What is it?" he asked as he seated himself at the head of the table.

Kiernan passed the newspaper to him and poured coffee for his father, then refilled his and Regan's cups.

A moment later, his father folded, then laid the paper on the table. "A year's engagement is unreasonable. Every move you and Miss Wallington make will be scrutinized."