In Your Wildest Scottish Dreams (17 page)

“You’re not what you seem to be, Mrs. Smythe,” Lucy said.

The woman’s eyes were narrowed, her mouth pursed. Any prettiness she possessed disappeared, replaced by a venomous look.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Everyone thinks you’re sweet and proper but you’re neither.”

She stared at Lucy. What did she know? Nothing. She couldn’t know anything unless she’d talked to Baumann, and she doubted the man would confide in the wife of a Confederate captain.

“I saw you. You were kissing him.”

Lucy glanced at Lennox, still involved in a discussion with Mr. Whittaker.

“You and Lennox in the garden. I saw you.”

The maid’s sudden appearance prevented her from responding. She thrust a tray of MacNamara Candies
in front of her. Since Archibald was beaming in her direction, she had no choice but to take one. The chocolate was so sweet she felt it in her front teeth, but she managed a polite comment all the same.

She deliberately avoided looking in Lucy’s direction. With any luck the woman would leave Glasgow within a few days. The sooner, the better.

Just when she was thinking of plausible excuses to shorten the evening, Lennox stood, extending his apologies for having to leave.

“Oh, dear Lennox, I do understand,” Charlotte said. “You’re so busy nowadays. I’m so grateful the three of you could join us if only for a little while.”

“Well, we need to skedaddle, too,” Mr. Whittaker said, holding out his hand for his wife. “We thank you for the dinner. And for the entertainment from the little ones.”

Lucy sent one last frown toward her, then stood, accompanied by the two men.

An unwritten rule in polite circles was that after the first guest departed, the second guest had to allow sufficient time to pass before also leaving. Otherwise, it gave the hostess the impression that all her guests were disappearing en masse.

Lennox glanced in her direction, his small smile telling her that he knew he’d succeeded in trapping her here with the MacNamaras for a little while longer.

After he and the Whittakers left, the house felt strangely empty. She accepted another cup of tea, listened to Archie pontificate about the ruin of the family caused by the love of alcohol and discussed Charlotte’s children.

All the while she wondered about Lucy. If a kiss had scandalized the woman, it was a good thing it hadn’t gone further.

She was fool enough to lay down in the garden if
Lennox had wanted to love her, an admission that should have shamed her but strangely didn’t.

Evidently, the nineteen-year-old Glynis hadn’t disappeared entirely.

“D
o you think Duncan will be successful in London?” Eleanor asked.

Glynis shared a look with her mother, thought about answering honestly, then padded the truth.

“I’m sure he will,” she said.

“I hate that the land must be sold, but these are difficult times.”

Glynis nodded. She thought her brother was doing something other than selling their property, but Duncan hadn’t confided in her.

The hour was early but she hadn’t been able to sleep, slipping downstairs to make herself a cup of tea, only to discover her mother and Mabel had the same idea.

Now she sat with her mother at the kitchen table listing the economies they could implement. Mabel worked in the background, the smell of scones perfuming the air.

They could start with eating less beef, only baking bread once a week, and reducing their clothing expenses.

“I have a new dress on order,” Eleanor said. “I’ll cancel it.”

“I doubt you need to do that. But perhaps no new garments for a while after that one?”

Her mother nodded.

“We have to keep Mary. If we don’t, heaven knows what will happen to the poor girl. She’s no family, and being with child and all . . .” Eleanor’s voice trailed away.

Nor would her mother think of getting rid of Mabel and Lily. They were no longer simply servants. Now they were friends.

If only Duncan had agreed to take a loan from Lennox, they wouldn’t be in this predicament. She should have been more forceful in her attempts to convince Lennox. Perhaps she should have offered him something in exchange.

I’ll bed you if you help save the mill.

What would he have said to that?

Shame should have warmed her at the thought, but it wasn’t shame racing through her body, it was excitement.

Would he have taken her offer? Would he have been interested? Would he be now?

It wouldn’t be a sacrifice loving Lennox, not when she’d imagined it for most of the last seven years. What would it be like having his hands skim over her body? Having him kiss her everywhere?

She pressed the back of her hand against her hot cheek. She needed to stop thinking of Lennox.

When Mabel passed a plate of raisin scones to her, she smiled and took one.

“I think you make the best scones in the whole world,” she told the cook. “I could eat a dozen every day.”

“You’re a bit thin, Miss Glynis. You could do with that many or more.”

Both her mother and Mabel smiled at her. She was not going to tell them she nearly starved in the last months in Washington. She’d do anything to prevent them from having to suffer the same fate.

Last night Lennox had been charming, fascinating, and too alluring.

I would say the same about you, Glynis MacIain.

What had that meant?

No, she would not think about him. He didn’t exist.

She would have all the windows painted black to obscure the view of Hillshead. She would wear earplugs to deafen herself to the sound of his name. She would implore her mother and Duncan to treat the man as if he were a leper. Maybe they’d even ring a bell when he approached.

Unclean! Unclean!

She’d lived for years without the sight of him. Perhaps she thought about him periodically, but only when homesick. Or when a bit of music made her heart swell. Or when she was achy and wanting to cry. Or when the dawn broke over Washington and streaks of pink and blue reminded her of a Scottish sky. Or at times in a crowded room when she was surrounded by others but curiously felt alone on a silent island.

He rarely entered her mind otherwise.

She couldn’t stop herself from recalling his smile, the way his eyes gleamed when amused, and the sound of his voice.

Why had he smelled of pine trees the night before?

She wanted him to laugh again. This time she’d put her hand against his chest to feel the echo of his laughter and the reassuring beat of his heart. She wanted to charm him, delight him, and make him smile.

Most of all, she wanted to kiss him again.

She could imagine what Lucy Whittaker would have said if she’d kissed Lennox more than once.

No, she would not think of Lennox. She must apply herself to the task at hand, ensuring the household could function more frugally.

She showed her list to her mother, along with the
sums she’d totaled. If they practiced a few economies in purchasing food, sold one of the carriages and two of the horses, they could save twenty-five percent of the monthly budget.

Eleanor sent a quick glance in Mabel’s direction.

“We wouldn’t have to make any staff changes?” she asked in a low voice.

“Not now.”

If things didn’t change, however, they’d have to let everyone go. Either that or all starve genteelly together.

Her mother nodded and sighed.

“It isn’t Duncan’s fault,” she said, compelled to defend her brother.

Her mother patted her hand. “Of course it isn’t, dear. I know. I wish there was something more I could do.”

She wondered what her mother would have said if she confessed the same. Or told her she was more than prepared to act the harlot in order to save the mill.

How altruistic she sounded, when it was anything but the truth. She wanted Lennox to love her, toss her on the ground, and end all the years of curiosity and wondering. With him, physical love wouldn’t be abhorrent. If he touched her, she wouldn’t want to scrub her skin for hours.

When the knocker at the front door sounded she looked at her mother.

“Are you expecting anyone?”

“Not this early,” Eleanor said, shaking her head.

Rather than send Lily, Glynis stood and walked down the hall. She swung the door open, staring at the man standing between the Grecian columns, and felt her stomach fall to her toes.

“What do you want?” she asked Matthew Baumann.

L
ENNOX
’
S DAY
had begun at dawn, which was not unusual. The list of tasks to be done before turning
over the
Raven
to Gavin tomorrow had grown exponentially over the last few days.

He made his way downstairs, encountering Hillshead’s cook as he passed through to the stables.

“What is it, Peggy?” he asked.

Their cook was a diminutive woman with a shock of white hair she kept wound in a braid at the back of her head. Tendrils of hair always managed to escape, surrounding her wrinkled face and giving her a halo.

She surprised him today by turning to him with tears in her eyes.

“It’s Garrison, sir. He has a cough something awful,” she said. “I’ve tried me mam’s recipe and he goes on coughing.”

“I’ll send my doctor over to see him,” he said.

She sighed. “I’ve been told there’s an English syrup that’ll help.”

“Let’s see what the doctor says first.”

She nodded.

Her husband had worked for Cameron and Company for years before retiring a few months ago. Garrison was a talented woodcarver who’d been responsible for the balusters surrounding the deck of their ships, the decorative trim of the captain’s wheel, and other details in the captain’s cabin. When he was a boy, the old man had carved him small animals, each one a perfect miniature. He still had them, carefully stored in a trunk in the attic.

“I’ll send my doctor over to see him. Don’t worry.”

Peggy nodded, her smile tremulous.

He patted her awkwardly on the shoulder, then made his way to his carriage.

The day was humid, the threat of a storm graying the sky. The rain wouldn’t slow up the finishing touches on the
Raven.
All the painting had already
been done and had a few days to dry so the excess moisture in the air wouldn’t bubble the finish.

Nothing was going to delay turning over the ship to the Confederacy.

“Where to first, sir?” his driver asked, standing at the open door.

“The MacIain home.”

Tim nodded.

Duncan’s problems continued to bother him. Lennox knew enough about the mill to know that if maintenance of the Lancashire looms wasn’t being performed, there would be even more problems when they were finally put back into service.

He doubted Duncan had the money to perform the necessary work, just as he suspected his friend was using his personal funds to support the mill.

Duncan’s pride was a wall between them, one he intended to knock down. He was early enough that he could intercept Duncan before he went to the mill.

A few minutes later the carriage slowed before the house. He frowned as he saw Glynis standing at the front door.

What the hell was Baumann doing here? Even more importantly, why was she talking to a man she professed to despise?

“
Y
OU
’
RE NOT
welcome here,” Glynis said.

“My feelings would be hurt, Glynis, if I thought you were serious.” He peered beyond her. “Aren’t you going to invite me inside?”

“No.”

“What a pity. I didn’t get a chance to meet your mother.”

“Go away, Baumann. Away from my house. Away from Glasgow. Away from Scotland.”

His smile dipped only for an instant. His mustache
was almost a living thing, quirking with his smile, leveling out when he was serious. She’d often found herself staring at it as if to gauge his mood.

“A very prosperous city, your Glasgow. Nothing like London or Paris, however, but it has its charm.”

“Perhaps you would feel more comfortable at home in London or Paris, Baumann. I, for one, would be more than happy if you were to take yourself off.”

“And deprive me of the opportunity to see you?”

His smile gnawed at her restraint.

“Why are you here?”

“To get information. You know about my quest for information.”

“No.”

He didn’t look the least bit unsettled by her refusal.

“This isn’t Washington,” she said. “I don’t owe you anything.”

“Our relationship was never about debts, Glynis. Instead, it was a reciprocal one.”