Island of the Swans (26 page)

“Of course, Captain Shelby,” Arabella assured him solemnly. “I’ll do whatever is necessary. If the Lieutenant lives, he’ll have you to thank for bringing him back to civilization. But, you shouldn’t waste another minute returning to your Mason-Dixon party. That new boundary line is important to us all. As for your injured friend, here,” she said, flashing him her warmest smile, “don’t worry. I’ll do the best I can.”

She cast an appreciative glance at Thomas Fraser. He
had
to know more than Beven about running an eleven thousand acre plantation such as Antrim Hall. And once this good-looking lieutenant recovered his physical powers and was lonely in the night…

The figure in the bed stirred. Much to Shelby and Arabella’s surprise, the gray-green eyes of her new patient flew wide open, and he stared up at her in apparent recognition.

“Jenny?” he rasped, and then closed his eyes, as if the sheer effort of uttering that one word was simply too much for him.

“’Tis all right, Lieutenant Fraser,” Arabella said soothingly, her hand resting lightly on the young man’s bare shoulder. “That’s right… just close your eyes and sleep. Everything is going to be just fine.”

She quickly bent over and efficiently tucked in the linen bedcovers nearest her. Glancing up at Shelby, she added cheerfully, “You just leave Lieutenant Fraser to me.”

Eglantine burst into her sister’s bedroom.

“The duke’s wearing
plum silk
!” exclaimed Jane’s fifteen-year-old sister excitedly. “I just peeked at him sitting in his coach.”

“Really, Eglantine,” Jane chided her. “There’s no need for a fashion report. I’ll be seeing His Grace myself in two minutes’ time.”

“Your fan, Mistress Jane,” Fiona said solemnly, handing her the gift from Alexander.

Jane could only smile at the deference accorded her by her little sister and her maid during the three months the Duke of Gordon had been paying court—if that’s how their friendship could be characterized. He had been calling at Hyndford Close quite regularly, when he was in Edinburgh. In fact, the duke’s attentions had created a social whirl that was sorely taxing her dressmaker, not to mention the family finances.

“He’s so
beautiful
!” sighed Eglantine, sinking down on the bench where Jane had just been sitting, primping her hair in anticipation of the night’s round of festivities at Comely Gardens.

“Please, Eglantine. Men aren’t beautiful. They’re
handsome
,” said Jane matter-of-factly.

Her tone masked a sense of bittersweet nostalgia at the memory of her first sight of Thomas resplendent in his Black Watch uniform. Indeed, Thomas
had
been beautiful that day, striding into the Old Ship Hotel wearing his forest green and black kilt and scarlet coat. Now that he was gone, the thought of such wonderful chiseled cheekbones and warm, gray-green eyes suffering disfigurement made her breath catch and her throat nearly close.
Thomas was dead!
Why couldn’t she accept it?

“He’s
waiting
!” cried Eglantine impatiently. “Aren’t you excited about dining and dancing at Comely Gardens? And with a
duke
! And a rich one, at that! Maybe he’ll ask the question tonight!”

“The question of marriage?” Jane asked mildly, inserting the ivory finger into her glove and pulling the doeskin onto her hand. “Really… I wish you’d believe me when I tell you Alexander and I are simply good friends. We have… uh… certain interests in common and feel comfortable in each other’s company… nothing more.”

“Well, why do you not try and
make
it more?”

It was her mother’s voice. Jane turned abruptly toward the door, startled by the intrusion.

“You’re an exceedingly beautiful young woman, Jane,” said Lady Maxwell as she entered the room briskly, skirts rustling. “Clearly, the Duke of Gordon has taken a fancy to you, yet you give him precious little encouragement.” She signaled to Eglantine and Fiona to leave, and they did so, reluctantly. “Don’t you think you owe it to him to offer him some sign of your affection?”

“He knows I enjoy his company,” Jane replied carefully. She was in no mood to argue about her behavior with her mother while the duke awaited her downstairs.

“But how long will he enjoy
yours
if you exhibit to him no more than polite interest?” her mother demanded.

“If he should tire of me so quickly, then our prospects for spending a lifetime together would not appear propitious, would they, Mama?”

“I’m not as concerned about your happiness as I am about your future, missy,” Lady Maxwell snapped. “You’re now nearly eighteen. ’Tis time you were married. One of the most eligible men in all of Scotland, of Britain for that matter, honors you by paying court. ’Tis common knowledge he would propose but for a small sign from you. Yet you show nothing. I think you pretend to play the game but only tease—”

“I do not!” Jane replied angrily. “The duke and I understand each other, even if you do not, Mama! He is not as ready as you may think to bind his heart to any woman.”

“So
that’s
it!” Lady Maxwell said triumphantly. “If you believe His Grace thought more of that castle chit than of a moment’s pleasure, you are very naive! And besides, Bathia Largue is dead. The sooner you rid yourself of all this sentimental nonsense, the better, lass! The duke must marry. The bastard who lies rocking in a cradle in the Gordon Castle nursery may bear his name, but not his title, and the duke
knows
it! He needs a suitable partner, and for some undiscernible reason, he has selected you as a likely candidate. You owe it to me and the entire Maxwell family to play your part and capture the prize. Either that, or you shall retire to Monreith to assist your father with housekeeping chores suitable for a self-declared spinster. Do you understand me, Jane?”

Jane’s eyes had narrowed and her body trembled slightly. Lady Maxwell watched her daughter warily. Perhaps she had pushed too hard.

“So your lofty ambitions would now rule out even Jamie Ferguson or the others you considered acceptable before the stakes were raised!” Jane retorted, a flush spreading up her slender throat in stark contrast to her pale white satin evening cloak. “I suppose if Thomas were alive, the son of a knight and an officer in His Majesty’s Service would no longer be good enough for Jane Maxwell!”

Lady Maxwell’s eyes flashed as angrily as her daughter’s. It sorely tried her patience when the little saucebox succumbed to these moods.

“I can assure you, lass, that if it were a contest between the Duke of Gordon and a lowly lieutenant, you would find yourself a duchess, whether you desired it or not.”

Jane had thrust her chin beyond the satin ruffle of her cape. Her dark eyes glared venomously. Magdalene decided to be conciliatory.

“Jane, dear… I’m sorry for my hasty words…” she began, alarmed by the look of undisguised hatred on her daughter’s face. “’Tis just that your headstrong actions
vex
me so. I know how sorely grieved you’ve been by Thomas’s death. But the lad is gone, and a most wonderful gentleman begs, I’m told, to take his place in your affections.”

“No one can take the place of Thomas!” Jane spat, glaring furiously at her mother.

“Well… perhaps not… but Jane… our means are limited… and ’tis so expensive to present you to society.”

“I didn’t ask for all the gowns and gloves and finery!” Jane retorted, turning her back on her mother.

Lady Maxwell put her hand lightly on her daughter’s cape. “’Tis been such a… such a difficult time with all you children, since your father and I cannot seem to—”

“To live happily together—isn’t that what you mean, Mama?” Jane said, turning around to face Lady Maxwell. “Yet you ask me to encourage a man I hardly know, a man whose life and past are so different from mine. You wish to sell me off to the highest bidder before even a year’s gone by since Thomas’s death… less than six months since I learned the news! I
don’t even know this man
!” she declared vehemently. “He was raised in the country… in a
castle
! I live in the city in a rented flat. He writes poetry, I like politics. He’s used to having his every wish obeyed, and I have grown fond of deciding things for myself! I have to see if these differences will blend like beaten eggs—or like oil and water. That takes time! Otherwise, Mama, I may end up spending the rest of my life like you and Da… squabbling and punishing everyone else for your mistake… and I truly don’t think I could bear it!”Lady Maxwell stared at her daughter, stunned by her harsh assessment of her parents’ married life. Jane swept past her mother before Lady Maxwell could think of a suitable retort.

The Duke of Gordon’s black carriage slowly threaded its way out of Edinburgh along the crowded Easter Road toward Jock’s Lodge, a village of less than five hundred souls, most of whom were in the employ of one Andrew Gibb, the proprietor of Comely Gardens.

“Comely’s but a poor imitation of London’s Vauxhall, really, but you may find it amusing,” Alexander said, tilting his neatly coiffed head against the coach’s padding to gain a better view of Jane, who sat opposite him. “There are acres of grounds and miles of sculptured hedges. You’ll like Gibb’s faux-marble cherubs, lit by hundreds of Chinese lanterns. And the ham he serves is sliced so thin, you could paper the entire grounds with it.”

“Sounds like good business practice to me,” Jane laughed. “The thin-sliced ham, I mean.”

“Good business or no,” replied Alexander, “we’ll have to watch out for pickpockets and footpads.”

“Nothing to worry about on that score,” Jane responded cheerfully, waving her small satin drawstring pouch in front of him. “The Maxwells are in no danger of losing silver they do not possess!”

They both laughed and settled into a companionable silence as the coach wheels crunched along the road. Alexander stared at the night sky through the window.

“It may be vulgar, but I rather enjoy the music at Comely Gardens, and on a night as mild as this… with a full moon as well… we should enjoy ourselves, don’t you think?”

Jane nodded, turning to peer out at the rolling downs, which were flooded with silvery summer moonlight. She could see the outlines of cypress, yew, and tulip trees and felt the warm summer night air waft gently against her cheeks.

“’Tis lovely, isn’t it?” she breathed. “You couldn’t have selected a better evening for such an adventure.” She turned to look at Alexander. “And thank you for inviting Catherine and John yet again. I do so miss her since she moved to Argyle Square.”

“I can see that,” Alexander replied pleasantly. “And if Eglantine can learn to stop spying on people from behind half-opened doors,” he added half in jest, “you might tell her she’ll be included in the next invitation.”

A moment passed, and Alexander looked at his companion intently.

“Jane, do you or your mother want for anything… anything at all?” he asked earnestly.

Jane studied his face.

“You mean money?” she asked wryly, smiling a little at the diplomatic way the duke referred to the precarious Maxwell family finances.

He nodded.

“’Tis always unpredictable what my father will provide each month, but with Aunt Elizabeth’s contribution, at least till Uncle James returns from America this fall, we seem to be managing quite well, thank you.”

“Truly, Jane, you will let me know if I can assist you in any way?” Alexander asked quietly as the coach turned down a lane flanked by a low wall leading to the entrance of Comely Gardens. Jane looked across the coach’s luxurious interior, trying to mask her alarm at the drift in the conversation. The duke was offering her money, and if she accepted, it would change their situation entirely.

“That’s very kind of you, Your Grace,” she replied formally, “but… I must confess I am a bit surprised to think of you concerning yourself with the subject of the Maxwell household’s financial uncertainties.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Alexander replied, “It shouldn’t surprise you, Jane dear, that I express concern for your family’s welfare. The fact is, I intend to make you my wife.” Before Jane could reply, he glanced out the door and reached for the carriage door handle. “Ah, we’ve arrived!”