In the Heart of the Highlander (2 page)

“She wouldn’t have to fu—uh, fornicate with him. Just catch him doing something unethical. Like trying to kill her and pass it off as an accident after she made her will over to him.”

“I doubt anyone of my job seekers would be willing to make themselves a possible murder victim, Lord Raeburn,” Mary said dryly.

“It doesn’t have to go that far, of course. If he’s accused of carrying on romantically with one of his patients, that should be enough to ruin his reputation. What husband or father would trust him to cure his wife or daughter? And anyway, I’d be there to keep your woman safe.”

Mary’s mouth dropped open a second too long. Goodness, she must look like the veriest imbecile. “You?” she asked, when she gathered her scattered wits.

“I’ve booked a suite of rooms there. I’m having some renovations done to Raeburn Court now that Edith is—gone, and the hotel is not two miles away. It’s only natural I stay close to supervise, and the hotel is the only decent place to stay in the area. The only place, period. We’re a bit isolated from the world.”

Yes, that was the spa’s attraction—unspoiled countryside. Pure air, high altitude, fresh water. Enough wildlife and waterfalls to thrill any amateur photographer. Yet there was train service to Pitcarran, a charming little town close enough for a day trip in one of the hotel’s horse-drawn wagonettes.

It seemed Mary had committed the advertisements to memory. She wondered if Oliver had saved any stories about it.

“Bauer knows me. I make him nervous,” Lord Raeburn continued. “He may slip and make a mistake.”

“He also may be on his best behavior,” Mary said. “Does he know he has you for an enemy?”

“Oh, yes.”

Mary shivered at the glitter in Lord Raeburn’s black eyes.

“Let me see if I understand this. You wish Dr. Bauer to be discovered in a compromising position with a patient, even though he knows you will be watching him.”

“The man’s ego—you are familiar with that alienist fellow Freud?—knows no bounds. He’s full of himself. I think because I will be there he’ll flaunt his indiscretions in front of me, knowing there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. Who will believe anything bad I have to say about him? Me, a man who killed his wife? I have no credibility.” Lord Raeburn sat back in his chair, looking vulnerable for the first time. Mary decided she had to reread all the newspaper accounts of Lady Edith Raeburn’s death.

“Let me think about this.”

“I don’t have time for you to dillydally, Mrs. Evensong. If you can’t get someone to do it, I’ll have to hire some actress. I do know a few.”

Yes, Mary had heard that he did. Lord Raeburn and his wife had lived apart for most of their marriage. No wonder the poor woman sought comfort in the arms of a sympathetic Dr. Bauer.

“Why haven’t you already?”

“The girls I know—let’s just say they’re more suited to the chorus line than playing an heiress. I need someone fresh. Innocent. Someone Bauer will think he can corrupt with no consequences. From what little I know, he only debauches virgins, who are then too mortified to confess their stupidity.”

“Then why did Dr. Bauer target Lady Raeburn?” From the moment she asked the question, Mary knew she had made a mistake. She watched Lord Raeburn struggle to frame his answer.

Instead of the shout she expected, his words, when they came, were quiet. “My wife was very young when we married. Delicate. She had a disgust of the marital act. Or perhaps she just had a disgust of me. Josef Bauer somehow overcame her objections.”

Despite her relative youth, Mary Evensong was rarely surprised by anything her trickier clients had to tell her. She was surprised now. Lord Raeburn had bared his heart. His pain. Somehow she knew he’d never told the truth to anyone before.

Edith Raeburn had been a virgin. And a fool.

Mary made her decision, and hoped she wouldn’t be sorry. “I’ll do it. That is, I’ll find someone for you. When will she have to leave?”

“We wouldn’t want to arrive at the hotel together—let’s say, get your girl to come a week from Thursday. The sooner we can put a period to Bauer’s villainy, the better. Do you have someone in mind?”

“Yes,” Mary said, hoping Aunt Mim would approve of her madcap plan.

Mary wasn’t madcap—she was steady. Sensible. Responsible. Boring. But that was about to change.

She pulled out a contract and discussed terms as if she didn’t have black and yellow bees buzzing drunkenly in her head.

Chapter

2

Forsyth, Perthshire, Scotland

June 9, 1904

A
lec Raeburn puffed on a cigar in one of the Forsyth Palace Hotel’s turrets dedicated for just such manly activity. Across the slate roof, the ladies’ turret held several young white-clad female guests who were oblivious to Ben-y-Vrackie looming blue in the distance and were plainly viewing him. They tried to catch his attention through prodigious handkerchief-waving and head-tossing, but Alec ignored them, gazing down at the hotel’s circular drive.

The girls must not have heard about him and his wickedness yet—no doubt their mamas would be swooping in any minute to round them up and tell them everything they thought they knew. After nearly a year, Alec was almost used to the sudden silence when he entered a room, eyes sliding to distant corners, people remembering forgotten appointments. He’d always attracted attention—a man his size was not invisible—but now the attention was most unwelcome.

He was sick of it. After this was over, he’d hunker down here. Fleeing England would not be such a hardship, since Scotland was the home of his heart. However, Edith’s death had cast a pall on his beloved Raeburn Court that would not really be changed by the addition of new drapes and furniture. It would be a wrench to remain in isolation, but Alec couldn’t see the social climate changing for him any time soon.

He couldn’t tell the truth. Even a man as black-hearted as he would not use Edith’s folly to explain what happened. Her parents already loathed him for his shortcomings. Alec could live with their hate—had since almost the first days of his marriage—but not the fresh grief he would cause if they discovered the reason for their daughter’s despair.

No matter what he’d done, he’d not been able to convince Edith to trust him. After a while, he’d given up and gone his own way, just like so many men of his class. He was no saint; no one was. Look at the king—“Kingie”—a man who’d had more than his share of extramarital adventures.

At least Alec hadn’t taken anyone seriously to heart—his amours had been brief and bloodless. He’d fallen in love with Edith, for all the good it did him, and he would never do that again. So there was nothing for him but to find justice somehow, and his helpers were on their way.

He’d received a telegram from Mrs. Evensong yesterday. His two new employees—a male and a female—would be arriving on the afternoon train. Alec hadn’t objected in her office when she explained that a proper lady would never travel to the wilds of Scotland alone, even to such a superior establishment as this, which provided personal maids and valets to the guests.

He didn’t care how much this effort cost him—his reputation was ruined. He wouldn’t marry again and have a son to pass his title and estate to. Alec’s brother Evan would never miss a few thousand pounds when he inherited—Evan owned a successful distillery whose product was favored by King Edward himself and was richer than Alec to begin with.

Alec craned his neck as the hotel’s shiny black horse-drawn omnibus came down the long lane below. Its passengers had been picked up at the railway station, and traveled the winding road that ran along the sparkling River Tummel, famous for its salmon. They’d passed the gentlemen guests who’d been dropped off earlier in the day, wading and casting, the hotel chef promising to cook their catch for their dinner, and were now driving by golfers who were chipping away on the hotel’s own nine-hole course.

Bauer and his business partners had hit on a grand scheme with this enterprise, appealing to every taste—sportsmen, hypochondriacal dowagers, families with shy daughters they wished to accustom to society in the communal dining room. Alec had a grudging respect for the genius of it all. The late queen had made the Highlands fashionable decades ago, and there was no place more fashionable now than the Forsyth Palace Hotel.

Which one of the disembarking people was his Mary Arden? Who was her “brother”? All he saw was the tops of heads—straw boaters and fantastical hats so big they obscured the bodies of the women who wore them.

Alec ground out his cigar in a crystal ashtray. He would make his way to the reception area oh-so-casually and see if he could pick out the actress Mrs. Evensong had hired. He hoped she looked naïve and insecure—according to Edith’s diary, Bauer had boasted he went after the weakest women, who were unfailingly flattered by his attention. He wheedled himself into their beds and out of their money. There was never a chance he would marry any of them—he had a wife and children hidden down in Edinburgh.

Alec could not understand why anyone would keep secret about Bauer’s depredations, but then he was not a woman. Even though the world was changing rapidly, society’s rules were intact. Scandal was still scandal. A woman was meant to be pure until marriage.

Sometimes pure after marriage, he thought sourly.

Eschewing the lift, Alec hurried down the stairs to the grand ground floor. Pillars and archways led to an enormous lobby, which in turn led to a glassed veranda that ran the whole length of the rear of the building. The scenery was spectacular. Even Alec, who’d been raised in the Highlands, could not take its perfection for granted. A good crowd was taking high tea in ornate wicker chairs at the moment, and he heard the subdued chatter over the clink of saucers and forks. A few people turned in his direction, then hastily turned away. As usual.

Porters were rolling loaded luggage carts toward the byzantine ramps that led from one floor to the other. The architect had been careful to provide as many escape routes as possible to accommodate the number of guests and staff. Fire was common to these large hotels, and every safety effort was in place. There was a bank of modern lifts, several sets of stairs, iron fire escapes at the rear of the hotel, as well as the service ramps that kept the maids’ mops far from the customers.

The dozen or so new arrivals were being greeted by Josef Bauer himself, resplendent in his crisp white doctor’s coat, his blond beard neatly trimmed. Alec had passed the hotel’s barbershop this morning and seen Bauer relaxing in the leather chair.

How relaxed would he be if Alec held a razor to the man’s throat? No, that’s what Mary Arden was for. He didn’t know what use he’d put her male companion to, but it never hurt to have an extra pair of eyes and ears and hands. What he wouldn’t countenance was Miss Arden carrying on with the fellow she’d brought. She was meant to devote her sole effort in snaring Josef Bauer.

Alec had given them a week to accomplish the downfall of the doctor. The renovations to his home should take no longer than that. Mostly the workmen were removing all of Edith’s spindly furniture and tearing down chintz curtains. He needed chairs to sit on that would not break, and he was certainly not a chintz sort of fellow. But at the beginning of their marriage, he’d given Edith carte blanche to change his ancestral home, and change it she had. A free hand with decorating had not led her to be any freer with her person, and Alec had been frustrated by both the coldness of his wife and the inadequate seating.

Good God.
Alec ducked behind a pillar. Mrs. Evensong was here herself, dressed head to toe in black with her little gray spectacles, leaning heavily on a cane. A maid fussed over her and made her sit on a sofa in the lobby while the doctor gave his little spiel.

Surely she didn’t expect Josef Bauer to seduce
her
? No, of course not. She must be here to keep an eye on the two actors. Alec was impressed—he never expected to get such attentive service when he’d signed the contract.

A few other guests followed Mrs. Evensong’s example to the sofas. Left standing was a pale redhead in blue with a simple, elegant hat, and a devilishly handsome young man at her side. He was familiar-looking. The secretary? She must be Mary Arden. Everyone else in the party looked too old, though this woman was not in the first blush of youth.

She was not precisely beautiful, but beauty was not necessary to attract Bauer. Alec thought she was handsome enough in an unshowy way, her nose thin and straight, her lips full but not bee-stung. She had a wide forehead, which might bespeak some intelligence. He had never been immune to women’s forms, and Miss Arden’s was fine. She was on the short side, but very curvy. Her waist was ruthlessly nipped in by her corset, and her visible skin was so white it looked as if she hadn’t been out in the sun in ages. There was a slight look of the sickroom about her, though it was probably due to the application of paint.

It was not enough that the woman he hired be a regular female guest, one who came to walk the manicured grounds and take photographs or play tennis. Regular guests did not fall under the purview of Dr. Bauer; there was an obsequious hotel manager, Mr. Prescott, for them. Dr. Bauer’s patients took all the cures in the far wing of the hotel—the Turkish, peat, and Droitwich brine baths, massages, and body shampooing, which lasted at least twenty minutes. There were attendants to assist the patients, but sometimes Dr. Bauer performed those services himself, the better to take advantage of vulnerable—naked—young women.

Alec imagined Miss Arden would look quite lovely naked, with all her white skin and pale red hair tumbling down her back. He hoped she wouldn’t feel obligated to go that far—he had a feeling old Mrs. Evensong would object rather strenuously, even if Mary Arden was just an actress hired for the part. She clung now to the man who posed as her brother, and with a look of disgust, he shook her arm away. Miss Arden swayed backward, and it was all Alec could do not to race across the lobby and catch her before she fell.

She didn’t topple over, but reached out to steady herself on the back of the sofa where Mrs. Evensong sat. The old woman looked up and said something to her, and Miss Arden nodded. She tottered gingerly around the sofa and collapsed into the cushion.

Josef Bauer noticed, and broke from his prepared speech to make sure she was all right. Clever girl for calling attention to herself from the get-go. She looked up at the doctor with limpid hazel eyes, and Alec suppressed a chuckle. She was the picture of sweet vulnerability—he could not have asked for a better performance.

He’d seen enough. True to her reputation, Mrs. Evensong had come through. Little Miss Arden was appealing enough to make any man notice her. Alec would try to steal a moment alone with her before dinner—he’d come up with what he hoped was a brilliant plan to speed the doctor’s seduction along.

It was time to return to his rooms and brace himself for the evening with some of his brother Evan’s finest. The Forsyth Palace Hotel was a temperance establishment, serving no alcohol for “health,” but at least they didn’t search the guests’ bags and confiscate the forbidden. A great many guests fortified themselves discreetly during the course of their stay, ladies and gentlemen alike. Alec had taken a case of whiskey from Raeburn Court and was working his way through it methodically. Not too much, not too little. When Edith died, Alec had made an utter ass of himself, lending credence to the whispers. He had raged and stumbled in his drunkenness, and most of his servants had left him, fearful that he’d throw them out the window, too.

It hadn’t taken long for the servants’ gossip to sweep down to London. There was probably no place in the British Empire that hadn’t heard of wicked Lord Raeburn. Alec hadn’t helped himself any when he’d gone to his London townhouse and taken up with his loose women, but he was damned if he was going to live the rest of his life like a monk. He’d tried celibacy for Edith’s sake, and it hadn’t stuck.

His marriage had been a disaster. But revenge would be something to hold fast to on the empty nights that loomed ahead.

Alec entered his top-floor suite. His man Mackenzie was already arranging the drinks tray. Wordlessly, Alec downed the first bite of liquor and held his hand out for another. That would be all for today to take the edge off his anger. He’d take another bath, civilize himself beneath correct black and white evening clothes, and keep his secrets like bitter pills under his tongue.