Lucy and Her Scottish Laird (24 page)

“Lucy?”

She turned around and saw Calvin coming toward her. “Is everything all right?”

Her throat was dry and her stomach burned, but she nodded. She could not very well tell him what was so utterly wrong when she did not quite know, herself.

Ian went back to Queen Street where Ferguson was waiting at Craigmuir Place with Mr. Boyd, their auctioneer. So far, Duncan had not come around, so their
care in keeping Craigmuir’s windfall a secret had worked. Duncan was far better off believing there were limits to what he was allowed to spend, and
not start believing there was an endless supply of money from his uncle.

“Ah, Lord Broxburn,” Ferguson said. “We were waiting for your return. Mr. Boyd is ready to transfer the artifacts to the safe in his
building in High Street.”

“By all means.”

Ian’s problems were essentially solved, but he felt hollow. After seeing Lucy in the bosom of her family, surrounded by friends – and Joshua
Parris – he knew where he stood. And it was miles away from where he’d hoped to be.

He knew his duty now was to get the Craigmuir treasure sold and pay his workers. He would have Ferguson purchase stores of grain and other staples so that
his tenants would not be hungry as they’d been the previous year. And he needed to make plans for the repairs and improvements on the ducal estates
that had been neglected for years – the land as well as the buildings.

But his heart was far from in it.

“I want no mention of Craigmuir or the castle in this endeavor, Boyd,” Ian said. “The items will speak for themselves without any
connection to my family.”

“Yes, as you wish, my lord,” Boyd said. “The auction will be held on Monday afternoon if that suits. We will have the materials printed
and catalogued by then.”

“Yes, all right,” Ian replied. It meant he would be in Edinburgh past Friday, the day of Lady Muirhouse’s ball. He
could
attend.
Lucy would be there. He
might
attend. There was no particular reason not to attend.

“I’ll see to the details if you wish, my lord,” Ferguson said, his expression puzzled.

Ian realized he must appear distracted. “No. No, that’s all right, Ferguson. When the listings are ready, we can go over them together.”
He turned to Boyd. “When will that be?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Shall we agree on a time to meet?”

When all was arranged, Ferguson showed Boyd out, then joined Ian in the library. “MacAdams seemed like a new man when we left the castle,” he
said to Ian.

“He did. The weight of debt and failure has been lifted from his – and our – shoulders. I cannot imagine him dealing with my
father’s excesses all these years.”

Ferguson coughed into his hand. “’Tis truly a relief, my lord.”

Ian was glad his family’s faithful steward could now be free from worry. With Craigmuir’s newfound wealth, MacAdams’s annuity had become
a certainty. He and his wife would have no financial worries through their old age.

And there was a lot Ian could do for his tenants now. The harvests these last two years had been dismal, but Ian could suspend their rents indefinitely
now. He would make sure every family had enough food to last through the winter.

The treasure had been appraised at hundreds of thousands of pounds, more than the estate had earned in generations. Ian wondered where and how Gordon and
Béatrice had acquired such riches. He hoped MacAdams would find some clues in his search through the library.

“I think MacAdams enjoys digging through those old books and manuscripts,” Ian said. “His Latin and French are quite good.”

“Aye. He is—”

A knock at the door interrupted them. It was Stuart. “Mr. Munro has arrived, my lord, and is waiting for you in the drawing room.”

“Damnation,” Ian muttered when the butler walked away. “I sincerely hope he did not see Boyd leaving.”

The look of horror on Ferguson’s face indicated his agreement.

Ian went into the drawing room and shut the door behind him. “What do you want, Duncan?”

“Ah, Cousin. The house looks bonny, as usual. Was that James Boyd who was just leaving when I arrived?”

“What business is it of yours?”

“Hmm.” Duncan smiled, putting all his charm into it. “I shall need an increase in my quarterly allowance, Brox. The cost of…well,
everything…has risen so.”

Ian held his tongue until he could speak without shouting, and opened the door. He would not dignify his cousin’s unwarranted request with an answer.
“If that’s all?”

Duncan sat down in defiance of Ian’s obvious invitation for him to leave. “No, that is not all.”

Ian felt like walking away, but he was not about to leave his cousin alone in the house. “What is it, Duncan?”

“I had an interesting conversation with my mother after I left Craigmuir.”

“And?”

“It seems the duchess had quite a lot to say to her. About you.”

A chill ran down Ian’s spine. “Go on.”

“Suffice it to say that eyebrows would be raised if her words were repeated.”

“Repeat them now. For me.”

Duncan stood. “I think not. I’ll just take the increase in my allowance and enjoy the rest of my stay in Edinburgh before I return to Brodie
House to see my dear mother again.”

Ian watched him leave.

The duchess never would have said a word about the circumstances of his birth. Because what did that say about her? The truth would be too humiliating.
Besides, who would believe her?

“Do you think Lord Broxburn will go to the ball?” Claire asked Lucy for what seemed like the tenth time, although it was probably closer to the
third.

“I really do not know,” she replied. “He said nothing to me about it.” She had not seen or spoken to him since his visit on the day
he’d met them at her uncle’s house after their trip to the castle.

“Oh, I hope he does,” she said, sighing. “Kathryn Hay is a fool for missing her opportunity with him. But her foolishness is my
advantage.”

Kathryn had not been the least bit interested, but Lucy kept that observation to herself. She had come along with some of her new acquaintances to walk up
to Arthur’s Seat. That was something she liked very much about Scotland – the Scots enjoyed the outdoors. Walking, riding, fishing…Not
that she would be caught dead doing two of the former, but she did love to walk. And she liked the robust nature of the Scots she’d met.

While Claire went on about Lord Broxburn’s beautiful dark eyes and his strong jaw – and the dukedom he would soon inherit – Lucy thought
about the ghillie’s cottage on his land and felt an absorbing longing for it. The place was peaceful and remote, and full of old relics that no one
but she would ever appreciate. Though perhaps Broxburn would, too – he did have that tower room full of wonderful treasures.

“I’ll be wearing a taffeta confection in Saxon green,” Claire said. “And my mother’s emerald and pearl choker.”

“I’m sure they will suit you very well,” Lucy said absently. There’d been some incredibly beautiful jewelry in the treasure box
Béatrice had shown her in the Craigmuir library. She assumed Broxburn would sell it – she imagined it would be very valuable to a collector.

Joshua took her arm as they looked out over the city of Edinburgh. It was a breathtaking sight, and Lucy had to admit she liked what she’d seen of
the city so far. It was not as imposing as London had been, and yet there were shops and entertainments that rivaled the city so beloved by her sister,
Jessamine.

“It’s a fair city, but I believe I prefer Reading,” Joshua said.

“Yes, there is something to be said for home…the familiar,” Lucy mused.

“You must be anxious to return to Stillwater House.”

Lucy nodded. “I was, at first. But the ache of separation has passed. I was so upset about not seeing Calvin and Samuel—”

“But now I understand Samuel might travel up at Christmas to escort you home,” Joshua said.

That was true. Lucy’s sister and brother had informed her of this soon after their arrival. Oddly enough, she had mixed feelings about leaving.

And those feelings had much to do with Lord Broxburn.

Later that night, Lucy was in Kildrum’s small sitting room, sipping tea with her brother and sister and Joshua. Meg was still reticent, just as
she’d been since the early spring when she’d returned home from Lady Wakefield’s home at Lake Windermere. Lucy and her sisters had feared
something untoward had happened, but Meg had denied it, and gone on as though she’d always intended to return home when she did.

They all doubted that was entirely true.

Calvin was not reticent in the least. He’d spent the past few years in America, and his tales of the wild new country kept Lucy riveted. They were
almost enough to keep her thoughts from straying to Lord Broxburn as they were wont to do far too frequently.

Calvin was twenty-seven years old – a handsome, brawny fellow who’d caught the eye of more than one of Lucy’s Edinburgh acquaintances. He
could marry one of them and take her home to Berkshire.

It was the reverse of what would happen if Lucy married a Scot.

But the thought of staying wasn’t quite as bothersome now. She liked her uncle very much, and if she did not have to spend a great deal of time with
her aunt, it wouldn’t be too bad. And the young ladies she’d met were quite nice, even if Claire did annoy her with her talk of Broxburn.

“It will be a better harvest next year,” Joshua said, interrupting Lucy’s thoughts. “The past two years have been abysmal, but it
looks as though the weather has finally improved.”

“There were bad harvests even in America,” Calvin remarked. “The farmers there said they had never seen such cold, wet summers –
two seasons running.”

Lucy wondered if that was what had put Broxburn in such a dire financial position. She was glad she had been at Craigmuir Castle for Béatrice to show
her the treasure, though why the ghost had never shown it to anyone else was a mystery. Lucy was sure the contents of that box would have helped any number
of Béatrice’s descendants over the centuries.

For some reason, the ghost had seen fit to appear to Lucy, someone who had no real connection to Craigmuir – other than her attraction to its heir.
She had to admit his touch set her heart pounding, and when she thought of any sort of intimacy with Josh—

“Perhaps I will stay here in Edinburgh with you, Lucy,” Meg said.

“Oh, would you?” Lucy cried happily, pulling her sister into a tight embrace. “That is a most welcome thought!” And perhaps her
sister would overcome the melancholy that seemed to have overtaken her since her return home from the Lake District.

Meg pulled back a bit, nodding. “I actually do miss the north country. It’s not the same as Windermere, but I do love the hills.”

“What about Mama? Do you think she will be all right without one of us there to look after her?”

“Mama is well on the mend,” Meg said. “Besides, Aunt Martha came for an extended visit. That was the reason I felt I could leave home for
a while.”

Martha was her mother’s sister, the widow of a country gentleman. She’d never had her own children, but was like a second mother to her nieces
and nephews. She was nothing at all like Arden.

“She took matters in hand the moment she arrived, insisting that Mama take her ease.”

Lucy laughed happily. “Yes, that sounds just like Aunt Martha.” Their aunt will have taken charge of the household, leaving their mother to do
naught but sit in the garden with her feet up, sipping tea.

“Mama is much better, though,” Meg remarked. “Even in the time since you left home, she seems stronger.”

“That’s a relief.”

“Jessamine is home again, and of course Emily is there.”

“And Samuel?”

“Not yet, but he will be there soon,” Meg said.

They continued talking of family matters, and Lucy learned that Jessamine was going to Richmond to help when Caroline’s baby came. That was a relief
to Lucy, who had hoped to be the one to take care of her sister during her confinement with her first child.

“Uncle Archie said you were fascinated with Craigmuir Castle,” Meg remarked, wandering away from the others in their party.

Lucy nodded. “You would not believe it, Meg. It is a beautiful, ancient place, and incredibly well-preserved.”

“No doubt Joshua would like to see it.”

Lucy frowned. The idea of Joshua intruding into Broxburn’s home was not as welcome an idea as she’d once thought.

Ian went to see Malcolm the day after Duncan’s visit, even though he could not possibly tell him his suspicions about what his cousin might know. He
could not tell anyone.

“I hope I am not intruding,” he said when Malcolm met him in the foyer of his Edinburgh house.

“Ian! Not at all! Of course I am very glad to see you,” Malcolm said, “but I must admit I am surprised to learn you are here in
town.”

“You will not believe our good fortune.” Ian wanted to inform Malcolm of the treasure, himself. He didn’t want his closest friend to find
out after the auction through some horrid chain of gossip. And he also wanted to tell him about the way it had been found.

When they were alone in Malcolm’s parlor with a pot of coffee on the table between them, Ian said, “We’ve found a treasure in the library
at Craigmuir.”

“A treasure?”

Ian nodded, still trying to absorb all that this meant for his family and his lands. “Aye. A vast, ancient treasure that was hidden away for
centuries.”

A slow smile grew upon Malcolm’s face. “How…This is marvelous, old man. I am sincerely happy and deeply relieved for your sake. But how
did you find it?”

Ian explained the way Lucy had been led to it by the Craigmuir ghost. Malcolm sat back in his chair.

“And that is not all,” Ian continued. “I saw Béatrice and her lover in my father’s bedchamber when he seemed at death’s
door.”

Malcolm stood. “Are you sure…I mean, there’ve been rumors of ghosts down there ever since I’ve known you. You are sure you saw the
actual—”