Lucy and Her Scottish Laird (28 page)

“I—”

“You were jealous!”

Lucy plopped down hard on the sofa, her chest aching even more than it had done when Claire was batting her pretty little eyelashes at Broxburn.
“Jealous?” She did not like the sly smile on her sister’s face. “That’s ridiculous.”

Meg studied her for a moment. “Are you Broxburn’s first choice, Lucy?”

Lucy swallowed. Looking up at her sister, she nodded. “I think so.”

Meg sat down next to her. “What about you? Is he the one?”

She clasped her hands together in her lap. Things she’d always believed were not exactly true any more. She did not hate Scotland. Not all Scotsmen
were boors. It was not so horrible to be away from home. Joshua was not quite how she remembered him. “It is all so confusing. Joshua and I have been
friends for a long time.”

But now she knew there had always been something missing. Something essential. A primal connection she’d never felt with anyone except Broxburn.

“I have great affection for him.” Tears began to burn in her eyes.

“But you are not in love with him, are you, dear?”

Lucy shook her head as her tears welled up and spilled over. “I want to be. He has always been the one. The only one.”

Meg stayed quiet for a moment while Lucy brushed away her tears. “He does not make you feel the way Broxburn does,” she finally said.

“No,” Lucy whispered.

“Your heart beats faster and your body feels hungry for his touch.”

Lucy sniffed and looked at her sister’s profile. Suddenly she knew what had happened to Meg while she’d been living in the Lake District with
Lady Wakefield. She had fallen in love with someone.

She wiped her eyes and took Meg’s hand. “What happened at Lake Windermere, Meg?”

Meg shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

But the sadness in her sister’s voice clearly indicated that it did matter. “Who was he? Why—”

“He was committed elsewhere,” Meg said. “We could never be together.”

“But yet you fell in love with him?”

“Yes. He did not know of this…commitment until we’d…” She took a deep breath. “He is an honorable man who had no choice
but to see to his responsibilities.”

Now Lucy understood. Meg had felt as though her heart had been torn out. Just as Lucy would feel if she never saw Broxburn again.

Ian was furious, which was why he had not stayed at Kildrum House. He had left Lucy and her sister at the door and ridden back to Queen Street with
Ferguson.

He had a plan to take care of Duncan’s mother, but he needed a way to discredit his numbskull cousin before he started spreading rumors. But how?

Dishonesty was not Ian’s forte, which was the main reason why the truth of his birth rankled so. His entire life was a lie.

But there was no proof of that. He was his father’s son, and no one but the duchess knew that she was not his mother. Maybe he ought to let Duncan
tell the world what he knew, and just live with the consequences. After all, the duchess was not well-liked among her peers, and it was known she despised
her husband. No one would be surprised if she disparaged him to her sister-in-law.

Alastair MacAdams was waiting at Craigmuir Place when Ian and Ferguson returned home. He had discovered yet another, much larger box of treasure in a
hidden wall compartment in a storage room behind the library in the castle. He had brought it to Edinburgh, along with another wee treasure –
something of valuable only to Ian.

And he knew exactly what to do with it.

“Who is the most prolific gossip in Edinburgh, MacAdams? Do you know?”

The older man cleared his throat. “Uh, I believe that would be Lord Galston. He and your father were friends, but the duke always said he would never
tell Galston anything he did not want known in every quarter.”

“Excellent. See if he and his countess are available to dine with me tonight.”

“Tonight, my lord?”

“Aye. It might be unusual, but it is still early enough to issue an invitation for a casual supper.” He needed to get a step ahead of Duncan,
and tonight would definitely do it. Tomorrow was Lady Muirhouse’s ball, and Ian wanted Galston to spread his message before Duncan had a chance to
spew his own story.

Ian was going to Lady Muirhouse’s ball tomorrow. He intended to tell Lucy the truth of his birth before he proposed, because he believed there should
be honesty between a husband and wife. He had no intention of living the same kind of strife-filled life his father had endured all these years.

Besides, he did not want her blindsided by the rumor that Duncan was sure to start, even though Ian had a remedy for it.

“I shall inform the cook, my lord,” Ferguson said, “and send the invitation right away.”

“One more thing,” Ian said. “I want you to take a few footmen and go back to Brodie House tomorrow. Collect my aunt and her servant and
all their belongings, and take them to Craigmuir Castle. Install her in the room beside the duchess’s bedchamber.”

Ferguson smiled. “Of course. The perfect solution.”

Aye. Duncan would have nothing to say about it, and Ian could make sure his aunt was provided for. Duncan could find lodgings in Edinburgh if he wished,
but Brodie House and every other Craigmuir holding was going to be off limits to him from now on.

Ian soon received word that Lord Galston was happy to accept the invitation, though a bit surprised by it. He had never done any entertaining at Craigmuir
Place before, so Galston’s surprise was well founded. The earl and his wife arrived at the appointed time, all pleasant smiles and curiosity.

They’d been told it would be an intimate supper, and they shared a few niceties before Ian walked with them into the dining room, saying that he
needed to speak to them about a matter of great importance.

“Broxburn, out with it,” Galston said as footmen began serving the meal. Lines of worry creased his forehead.

“I know you and my father have always been very good friends,” Ian said.

“Oh, aye. From our school days.”

Ian leaned forward. “He is ill. Quite ill.”

Galston steepled his fingers together and let out a deep breath.

“I wanted you to know first,” Ian said. “As one of my father’s closest friends.”

“This is terrible news.”

“Aye,” Ian said, sounding authentically sorrowful. He was stretching the truth, for MacAdams had told him that the duke was still improving.

“How is your mother?” Lady Galston asked.

Ian shook his head. “She is not well, either. I fear there will be sad times ahead for my family.”

Lady Galston tsked a few times, and they continued the meal, discussing Craigmuir’s decline and the doctor’s scant hopes for a recovery.
So much for honesty and truth
, Ian thought, but if this was the best way to thwart Duncan, so be it.

They finished supper and Ian suggested they go into the drawing room for a glass of port. He’d told Stuart to light a few lamps in the room, but to
make sure he lit the one on a side table near a front window, where a sheaf of ancient Craigmuir documents lay.

Lord and Lady Galston walked ahead of him, and Ian told them to go through while he went back for a special bottle of sherry for the lady. It would give
Galston a chance to take note of the more recent document lying on the table.

When Ian returned to the drawing room, Galston was standing over the table, looking at the old estate records.

“This is unusual,” Galston said.

“Oh, sorry,” Ian said, sounding genuinely chagrined. “I thought my steward had put all this away.”

“No, no – it is fascinating,” Galston remarked. “I’ve never seen one of these.”

“Oh, uh, yes. It seems the vicar at the village church on my father’s estate in Armagh issued this certificate to my parents when I was
christened.”

“Fascinating.”

All the more fascinating because it listed his date of birth, date of baptism, and the signatures of the duke and duchess as well as the vicar. Let Duncan
try his blackmail scheme now.

“And these,” Ian said, showing them some of the fragile, old parchment sheets that MacAdams had found while exploring the library. MacAdams had
discovered nothing about the treasure, but at this point, Ian did not care. That certificate from the vicar at St. Anne’s was all he needed, and it
will have performed its function once Galston started talking to his peers about it.

The other documents were just window dressing.

Lord and Lady Galston finally left Craigmuir Place and Ian went into his study for a glass of brandy before bed to calm himself. He had a perfect plan for
proposing to Lucy, and it did not include running to Kildrum House late tonight, disrupting the household.

Or maybe that’s exactly how he ought to do it. He loved her. He wanted her as his wife. He did not want her entertaining the slightest notion of
marrying Parris and returning to Berkshire.

He slammed his brandy class on the desk and summoned Stuart. Why shouldn’t he go there now? He did not want to give Parris a chance to say the words
Ian planned to say.

“Have my horse saddled and brought around. I am going out.”

He went to the front door, and just as he was about to open it, a violent pounding commenced. The footman on duty sent Ian a questioning glance. Ian pulled
open the door and Duncan practically fell through it.

“So, ye’re home!” Duncan’s words were slurred. He was drunk.

“Go back where you came from, Duncan. You have no business here.”

“Oh, not so fasht, Cousin!” He took off his hat and tossed it onto a table in the foyer, nearly knocking over a lamp.

“Out. Now.” Ian was not to be dissuaded. There was nothing his cousin had to say that was of interest to him. The footman took Duncan’s
hat from the table and handed it to Ian. “Leave.”

“I have shometh— shomething to say to you,” Duncan blurted. He was wavering on his feet. “Here? Or in your schtudy?”

Ian took a moment to study the staggering idiot in his foyer, then turned back toward his study. He heard Duncan shambling after him. He entered the room,
waited for Duncan to come in, and closed the door behind him.

“What do you want?”

“Want?” He went for the brandy bottle, but Ian took it away before Duncan could pour. Christ, was the man becoming a drunk like the duke?

“You’ve obviously had enough.”

Duncan scowled and dropped into a chair. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin pasty white. “Money. I want –
need
– money. A lot
of it.”

“No.”

“You know the conse— The conseq— The consequences, Ian. Everyone in Schotland will shoon know…exact…they will know what
kind of bashtard you are.”

“Do your worst, Duncan, and become a laughingstock in Edinburgh,” Ian said.

An evil gleam came into Duncan’s eyes. “I losht at the faro table tonight. You—” He jabbed a finger into Ian’s chest.
“You owe it to me…to pay—”

“Your debts? You can rot in debtor’s prison for all I care,” Ian said, moving to the door. “Now, get out.”

By the time two footmen had hauled Duncan’s arse out of Craigmuir Place, Ian had rethought his idea of dropping in on Lucy tonight. It was late, and
he would be disrupting the household.

He could be the gentleman Lucy deserved. He would go in the morning.

“Why did you choose St. Cuthbert’s?” Lucy asked Joshua as they alighted from the carriage with Meg and Calvin right behind them.

“Because it is one of the oldest churches in Edinburgh. I thought you would like it.”

Lucy had a feeling that this was it – the moment when Joshua would propose. He had chosen a place that he knew she would enjoy seeing, and once she
said yes, they could announce their engagement at Lady Muirhouse’s ball.

As they alighted from the carriage, she cast a worried glance at Meg and Calvin. Meg shrugged helplessly, and Calvin did not seem to notice her
discomfiture.

“This way,” Joshua said. He took Lucy’s hand and placed it in the crook of his elbow, then walked into the church with Meg and Calvin
right behind.

The vicar came through a door near the altar and greeted them. “Good morning, Mr. Parris.”

His greeting left Lucy with no doubt that Joshua had already been there and made his plan.

“Hello, Reverend Hume. May I present my friends?” He introduced Lucy and her siblings.

“Welcome,” the reverend said. “I understand you have an interest in ancient buildings.”

Reverend Hume escorted them through the church, showing them points of historical interest, but Lucy found it difficult to concentrate on the tour. What
would she say to Joshua when he proposed? Should she accept?

Broxburn had not indicated any interest in marriage, only in kisses and sensual encounters in secluded places. If Lucy refused Joshua, she might never
marry, might never have children or a home of her own. She would forever be beholden to her siblings for her livelihood.

As they toured the church, Lucy mused over her limited options. Joshua would give her beautiful children. He was quite good looking with his dark red hair
and green eyes. His sisters were quite beautiful, too. And there was Long Willow Place, a wonderful estate that Lucy had always admired. She had pictured
herself as the mistress there ever since—

“Thank you, Reverend Hume,” Joshua said when the tour was over, diverting Lucy from her reverie. She’d hardly noticed anything the good
reverend had pointed out to them. “May we wander a bit before we leave?”

“Of course,” the man said. “Take your time.” He gave them his blessing and left.

Suddenly, Lucy was alone with Joshua. Calvin had drawn Meg away to the opposite side of the church. Joshua turned her to face him and took her hands in
his. “Lucy.”

She swallowed.

“We have been friends since childhood,” Joshua said.

She bit the inside of her cheek. Panic was rising inside. This was not what she wanted. And Joshua did not want her, either. Not really. She suddenly knew
what she had to do, though she had never felt so uncomfortable in her life.