The Master Of Strathburn (38 page)

As he mulled over the strategy he and his father had devised to expose Caroline’s and Simon’s treachery, he noticed the increasing intensity of the rain drumming on the casement windows. Gordon had not drawn back the curtains yet, but Robert suspected the gutters and cobbled streets would be awash. It was definitely not the kind of weather in which to be fighting hand-to-hand combat with short swords. The common below Arthur’s Seat and Dunsapie Hill in Holyrood Park would be a quagmire. He almost felt sorry for the poor sodden Scots Guards who would be lying in wait for him and Simon to arrive. He wondered how long they would stay in position before they realised the duel would be a non-event.

With cup in hand, he wandered to the window and flicked the curtains to the side. The square below was deserted for now. Over the looming bulk of the Salisbury Crags, he fancied that the heavy pall of dark grey clouds was beginning to lighten a fraction. He estimated that within the hour, there would be a mightily annoyed and bedraggled officer pounding on the door of Strathburn House.

He wasn’t far off the mark. The clock was heralding half-past seven when he heard the clatter of horses’ hooves on the cobbles outside. He put down his second cup of tea and waited patiently for Gordon to summon him.

Sure enough, within a few minutes, Gordon reappeared. ‘Milord, Captain McBryde from the Scots Guard kindly requests yer presence.’ The butler’s lips twitched with a smile.

‘Indeed. I believe that my father would like a word with the captain as well, Gordon. If you would be so kind as to send word to MacGowan to wake his lordship.’

Gordon bowed. ‘Of course, milord.’

Robert ran his hands through his hair, ruffling it. Deciding he looked suitably sleep rumpled, he descended to the vestibule.

Captain McBryde stood in the middle of the entrance hall, looking both sodden and disgruntled in equal measure. Water streamed from his greatcoat onto the parquetry floor, and his boots were caked in mud. The front door was still ajar and Robert could see at least a half a dozen other Redcoats shivering on the portico outside. The rain was coming down in sheets. Robert bit the inside of his cheek to suppress a smile as he greeted the officer.

‘Captain McBryde,’ he said with an incline of his head. ‘What can I do for you at this early hour?’

McBryde bowed but not before he had looked Robert up and down, noting his obvious state of dryness and undress. A look of resignation replaced the expression of annoyance. ‘My apologies, Lord Lochrose, for having roused you from yer bed. It seems I have been led a merry dance by someone.’

Robert feigned a look of confusion. ‘I don’t follow you, Captain.’

McBryde sighed and swiped at a trickle of water running off his nose. ‘At ten o’clock last night my Commanding Officer received a missive—written on paper bearing the Strathburn coat of arms—stating tha’ you had instigated a duel with yer brother, Simon Grant. Said duel was to ha’ taken place half an hour ago in Holyrood Park. Given that you had only been released from the Tolbooth yesterday an’ are on probation—Lord Arniston’s office informed the Guards of the terms of yer release yesterday—we were duty bound to investigate. But as neither you nor yer brother arrived, I can only conclude tha’ one of you, or both, thought better of it an’ forfeited.’

Robert looked at the captain squarely. ‘It is true that my brother and I had a disagreement last night over a somewhat … private matter. Harsh words were exchanged and in the heat of the moment, my brother did propose that we settle the grievance at sword point at first light in the Park. But to go against him in a duel, that would be foolhardy to say the least, considering my current situation. I decided it was not worth it, as my forfeiture clearly demonstrates.’

Just then the earl appeared on the landing. ‘What is the meaning of this?’ he demanded before MacGowan assisted him down the stairs to stand beside Robert. It was obvious he had only just emerged from his bed as well—he wore a velvet banyan over his nightclothes and his periwig was slightly askew.

A masterful touch
, thought Robert. Anger fairly radiated from the earl as he skewered the captain with a gimlet stare.

Captain McBryde gave a creditable bow in the face of such noble ire and again explained the situation.

‘Rubbish,’ declared his father. ‘Show me this letter purporting there was to be a duel between my sons.’

The captain pulled a somewhat soggy piece of parchment from the folds of his scarlet jacket beneath his greatcoat and handed it to over. His father ran his gaze over it quickly before glancing up at Robert.

‘What is it?’ Robert asked with deceptive mildness. He was already certain what it was his father was about to announce.

His father cleared his throat, and looked at the captain, a suitably embarrassed expression on his face. ‘As much as I hate to say it, I believe my wife, Lady Strathburn has penned this. This is her personal stationary complete with wax seal and I would recognise her handwriting anywhere.’

Robert had difficulty suppressing a wry smile. His clever Jessie had been right about who had masterminded the plot against both of them. He addressed the officer. ‘What I find strange, Captain McBryde, is the fact that my stepmother sent this letter to the Guard well before Simon and I had even had our altercation. It was close to midnight when the duel was called. I wonder how Lady Strathburn knew it was going to happen.’

McBryde looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘Lord Strathburn, would ye mind if yer wife was summoned so tha’ I might have a word?’

‘Of course, Captain. I completely understand. In fact I insist,’ replied the earl. ‘Gordon, please wake her ladyship and make it clear that I expect her in the library in ten minutes. And if she isn’t, tell her that I will send several of the Scots Guards upstairs to assist her.’

Gordon bowed. His mouth twitched again. ‘Yes, milord.’

* * *

A short time later, a visibly pale and shaken Lady Strathburn appeared in the library. She was wearing a crumpled morning gown
a la polonaise
and her hair had been pushed roughly beneath a lace mobcap. Robert watched her from a darkened corner of the room where he had installed himself in a brown leather wing chair. She was so flustered, she had barely acknowledged his presence, other than to cast him an uncharacteristic nervous glance.

This interview would be interesting indeed.

His father directed her to a chair before the fire. Captain McBryde stood by the hearth directly facing her, hands behind his back, a truly imposing presence in his full officer’s regalia with a sword at his hip.

Lady Strathburn looked wildly from her husband to the glowering Scots Guard. ‘Wh-what is it? Why isn’t Simon here with this … soldier? Has something happened to him?’ she asked, her voice quavering.

‘Now why would you think that, my dear?’ asked his father, levelling his steely, dark blue gaze upon her.

‘B-because of the duel …’

‘And how would you know anything about that, my dear? I believe you were abed when it was called last night.’

Lady Strathburn swallowed and wrung her hands, her gaze darting between her husband and the captain. ‘The servants … you know how they gossip …’

His father thrust the letter toward her. ‘What rubbish. You detailed the event in this letter that you’ve addressed to the Commanding Officer of the Scots Guard. Do you deny that this is your stationary and handwriting?’

Lady Strathburn barely even glanced at the page. ‘All right then, yes. Yes, I did write it,’ she admitted with defiance. She raised her chin, a hint of her usual acerbic manner re-emerging. ‘A crime was going to be committed by your traitorous, good-for-nothing son.’

She then turned in her seat to face the captain. ‘I hope you are going to arrest Lord Lochrose. If he has injured my poor Simon—’

His father waved the page at her. ‘How did you know about the specifics of the duel, my lady? A duel I might add, that has turned out to be a non-event.’

Lady Strathburn’s mask of belligerent confidence slipped a little. ‘What do you mean?’

Captain McBryde spoke at last. He eyed the countess with obvious disapproval. ‘Neither Simon Grant nor Lord Lochrose were in Holyrood Park at the designated time or place you described. It seems you have sent me an’ my men on a wild goose chase, milady.’

Lady Strathburn twisted her hands again. ‘I don’t understand … perhaps the weather prevented Simon from attending …’ Her next words were uttered with considerable venom. ‘I was so sure Robert,’ she turned her head to his corner and sent him a pointed look, ‘would have made a show to defend his strumpet’s honour.’

‘I take it you mean me, Lady Strathburn?’

Dear God, it was Jessie.

Robert whipped his head around to the doorway as did everyone else in the library.
What on earth was she doing here?
This hadn’t been part of the plan. Robert couldn’t bear the idea that she would be exposed to further trials. She had endured enough already.

She took his breath away. She looked nothing like the strumpet his stepmother had just declared her to be. She stood just inside the door, looking as fresh and lovely as a summer’s day in a silk dress of periwinkle blue; it was another of the modiste’s creations that he had purchased yesterday. Her red-gold hair had been arranged into a becoming, loosely bound style that cascaded down one shoulder. She was undeniably the Viscountess Lochrose, his wife.

Robert stood and, from across the room, sought her gaze. He hesitated to introduce her for a moment, trying to gauge what she would be thinking. They had become man and wife last night, but did Jessie want him to announce that fact to the whole room? Even though they had exchanged legitimate vows and consummated their union in accordance with the common-law practice of Highland hand-fasting, he had no doubt that Alasdair Munroe would prefer that his daughter was wedded before God in a kirk. As would his own father. As if sensing the reason for his indecision, Jessie gave him a brief but knowing smile before she turned her attention back to Captain McBryde.

‘I am Jessie Munroe, Lord Lochrose’s betrothed,’ she said clearly.

McBryde introduced himself then settled his gaze on Robert. ‘So is tha’ what this is all about, milord? Defence of this young lady’s honour?’

Robert looked at Jessie, a frown of concern furrowing his brow. He wanted to spare her from whatever public humiliation he could. But how was he to do that, yet make it clear that his stepmother and Simon had instigated the heinous attack on her? That was the difficult question.

‘It’s all right, milord,’ Jessie said, returning his gaze steadily as she stepped further into the room. Even though the library was only dimly lit by firelight and the weak morning light filtering in through the windows, it was enough to reveal the shocking bruises around Jessie’s throat. She had tucked a fichu of a fine diaphanous fabric around the low scooped neckline, in a largely unsuccessful attempt to hide the evidence of Simon’s assault. Nevertheless, Robert saw Captain McBryde’s gaze flicker to the telltale marks. ‘It is true tha’ Lord Lochrose sought to defend my honour, but he was sorely provoked by his brother.’

‘I would appreciate it if you could describe exactly what happened, Miss Munroe?’

To Jessie’s credit she did not blush or look away from the captain. ‘Shortly before midnight, after the household had retired for the evening, Simon entered my bedchamber uninvited an’ attempted to force himself on me.’

Caroline snorted. ‘A likely story. This hussy has been throwing herself at Simon ever since she first darkened our doorstep.’

‘Enough!’ her husband commanded. ‘Don’t you dare utter another word against this young woman.’

Lady Strathburn paled but it did not prevent her from throwing Jessie a baleful glare.

Captain McBryde inclined his head. ‘Please continue, Miss Munroe.’

Jessie drew a steadying breath before she resumed her account. Meeting the captain’s gaze again, she succinctly recounted each harrowing detail of her ordeal. Robert couldn’t help but admire her bravery.

‘Thankfully, Lord Lochrose heard my scream an’ came to my aid,’ she concluded, casting Robert a grateful glance. ‘If it hadna been for him …’

Her hand rose to her bruised throat. She closed her eyes for a moment before she looked back at McBryde.

McBryde nodded, understanding and compassion in his eyes. ‘I can see how difficult this is for you to talk about, Miss Munroe. You do yerself credit with yer forthright explanation.’

McBryde then turned to Robert. ‘I can also see why you would have been compelled to defend yer betrothed’s honour, Lord Lochrose. But you obviously thought better of acting so rashly come the cold light of day. I commend you for tha’.’

‘Indeed,’ Robert agreed with a sardonic lift of one eyebrow. ‘And believe me, Captain, it was not easy to pass up the opportunity to give my brother his comeuppance. But in the end, I realised that my desire to be free to wed Miss Munroe was much stronger than my desire to exact revenge. The Tolbooth is hardly the place to begin married life, wouldn’t you agree?’

McBryde nodded once, a slight smile cracking his seemingly implacable façade.

Robert moved across the room until he was standing before his stepmother. Now was the time for her to be made accountable for her perfidy. She visibly shrank back into the wing chair, her hands plucking at the sleeves of her robe. It was satisfying to see her squirm.

‘Now,
dearest mother
, would you care to explain how you came by such detailed knowledge of the duel well in advance of it actually being called? Simon didn’t propose the time and place until close to midnight. He was then forcibly ousted from Strathburn House. As you clearly weren’t present during the confrontation, how is it that you were able to inform Captain McBryde about the precise terms of the duel at least two hours before the challenge was actually made, madam?’

Caroline gawped like a fish out of water. ‘I … Captain McBryde must have been mistaken about the time he received the letter.’

McBryde cocked an eyebrow. ‘Indeed I am no’, Lady Strathburn. It was precisely five past ten last night tha’ I was handed the letter by my Commanding Officer. There is no mistake.’