The Pursuit (5 page)

L
INCOLN
found the lake easily enough. He’d been told to follow it as it wound through the countryside like a river. It was huge. And Castle Kregora sat on a high bluff that overlooked it and the mountains beyond.

He thought it odd indeed that Melissa would travel so far from home to swim in a tiny water hole, when she had such a magnificent lake in her own backyard, as it were. He could be glad that she’d done so yesterday, though, for whatever reason. He’d never have met her otherwise.

Just the mere prospect of seeing her again stirred up more excitement than Lincoln had felt in a very long time. One of the things he hadn’t been looking forward to this season was the fact that his aunt and cousin would find out that he’d become rather jaded. The endless rounds of socializing, gambling, and other entertainments the ton immersed themselves in had never held much
interest for him to begin with, and after ten years of partaking from that cup he had finally concluded he must be a country boy at heart. Which was yet another reason he’d agreed it was time he marry.

Kregora certainly wasn’t what one would expect of a centuries-old castle. It was in excellent repair for one thing, including all the outer defense walls. The inner courtyard they surrounded likely bore no resemblance to what it once was, today filled with numerous workshops—carpenter shop, smithy, bakery, and the like—but also stone cottages, very much a little village.

Melissa probably lived in one of those cottages, or at least nearby. He asked at the stable where he might find her. He was directed inside the main keep to do his asking of the laird, who was home. And there was his next surprise. You simply couldn’t tell from outside that going inside the castle would be like walking into a country manor, replete with all the many rooms one would expect to find in a manor house.

He was asked to wait in an empty parlor. It didn’t take long for Lachlan MacGregor himself to show up, owner of Kregora and current head of this small branch of the MacGregors.

Lincoln was tall, but the MacGregor was taller. Somewhere in his mid-forties, barrel-chested, thick-legged, he might be likened to a giant by most people. He was handsome for all of that, and he wore a very friendly look as he held out his hand and introduced himself. Lincoln did
likewise, though he didn’t include his title, viewing it more as armor, which he didn’t need to don here.

“What brings ye tae Kregora, Mr. Burnett?”

“I’m looking for Melissa MacGregor. I was told you could direct me to her,” Lincoln replied.

“And why would ye be looking for her?”

“I’ve come to ask her to marry me.”

He shouldn’t have chosen that reason, when any number of other reasons would have done, for why he was there. And he’d managed to surprise the MacGregor, though the older man masked it quickly enough. They were no one’s business, after all, his intentions, with the exception of Melissa and perhaps her parents. And stating them didn’t even get him pointed in the right direction sooner, as he’d hoped.

“Let’s go tae m’office, where we’ll no’ be interrupted,” Lachlan suggested.

“There’s no need for me to intrude on your time, sir. If you could just direct me to Melissa—”

“In good time, lad. Ye’ll be telling me first why ye’ve decided ye want tae marry m’daughter.”

“
Your
daughter?”

“Aye, and if ye werena aware o’ that, then ye dinna know enough about m’daughter tae be asking for her—yet. But be at ease, mon, I’m no’ denying yer suit. We’ve a need tae talk about it though, ye’ll agree.”

Lincoln nodded with a good deal of embarrassment and followed Lachlan to his office. Of all the rotten luck. He’d thought the mention of
marriage would cut short any delays, or at least point out the seriousness of his visit, which should have got him into Melissa’s presence more quickly, without any more detours along the way. But considering whom he’d mentioned it
to,
it merely made him look foolish.

Like the parlor they’d just left, as well as the entry hall, Lachlan MacGregor’s office was paneled in thick wood, with no trace of the outer stone walls visible to remind that they
were
in a castle. The single window in the room had been enlarged from the original, and framed in wood to boot. It was a comfortable room, the furniture thickly-padded, the dark tones of brown, green, and black well suited for a man’s domain. Yet Lincoln was anything but comfortable.

For someone who had only recently decided it was time to marry and only just decided on
whom
to marry, he hadn’t exactly given much thought to what to say to a prospective bride’s father. But having put his foot in his mouth already, he was certainly off to a great start. Bloody hell. He wasn’t used to being at such a loss on how to proceed.

The older man helped immensely, though, as soon as they were seated, by simply asking, “So when did ye meet our Meli?”

“Yesterday.”

Lachlan’s new look of surprise turned rather quickly into a round of laughter. When he wound down, he said, “Ye’ll have tae be forgiving me. ’Tis no’ often I meet a mon who knows what he wants quite that quickly.”

“I trust my instincts, sir,” Lincoln said in his defense. “But perhaps I should explain. I had decided to take a wife, was going to actively search for one this social season in London. So the thought of marriage was not really on the spur of the moment, as it has been much on my mind recently. And having met Melissa, I concluded that I really don’t need to look any further—that is, if she’ll have me. However, I didn’t mean to imply that I want to marry her immediately. Actually, that
would
suit me well enough, but I realize that a period of courtship is in order first. I merely intended to state my goals today and to assure her that my suit is honorable.”

“Well said, lad. I wasna that sure aboot m’own wife when I met her. Growling at each other was all we managed tae do for a time, though love snuck up on the both o’ us, I’m thinking. And perhaps ye’ll be telling me what sort o’ life ye’d be offering our lass?”

“Certainly. I have inherited two fairly large estates, one in England from my uncle on my mother’s side and one here in Scotland that comprises quite a few properties both up north and in the Lowlands.”

Lachlan raised a brow. “Scotland, eh? And who would that be from?”

“My father was Donald Ross.”

Lachlan sat forward. “I’ll be damned! I knew him. I was sorry tae hear about his accident. Yer mother still lives nearby, doesna she?”

“Yes, though I don’t. I was sent to live with my
uncle after my father died. I’ve made my home in England with his family.”

“And why is it ye’ve forsaken your da’s name?” Lachlan asked.

“That I would never do. My full name is Lincoln Ross Burnett. There was an English title involved, however, and no other close male heirs on that side of the family, which is why my uncle petitioned to have his surname given to me. I am the seventeenth viscount Cambury.”

“I’ll own tae a bit o’ surprise. Ye dinna look or sound like a Scotsman, ye ken.”

Lincoln smiled wryly. “I’ve spent the last nineteen years in England, which included most of my schooling. My teachers were somewhat determined to pound the Scottish burr out of me.”

“Amazing, but I suppose if ye live among the English long enough, ’tis easy enough tae become one o’ them.”

“You don’t bear ill will toward the English in general, do you?” Lincoln asked hesitantly.

Lachlan laughed in good humor, explaining, “M’wife is English, lad. My aunt was English. I’ve good friends that live there as well. Nae, the only thing I dinna like about England is ’tis so bloody crowded, a mon o’ m’size tends tae draw far too much notice. M’height has always made me somewhat uncomfortable, ye ken.”

Lincoln nodded in perfect understanding. At six foot four, he’d found himself the tallest in the crowd more than once and was never quite comfortable with it either. Which was one reason he
hadn’t minded losing his burr. Since he was taller than most his age even as a child, the height and accent together had accounted for quite a few embarrassing moments after he’d first moved to England. Children, after all, were quick to make fun of “outsiders,” which he’d been deemed for many a year—until he stopped sounding like one.

He jumped in now with both feet, heart in hand. “May I have your permission, then, to court Melissa?”

“I have no objections tae ye courting m’lass, nor tae her marrying ye, for that matter, if she finds ye as much tae her liking as ye’ve found her. Her happiness is all her mother and I are concerned wi’. Though we hoped she’d marry closer tae home, there’ve been no offers forthcoming so far.”

Lincoln smiled hearing that. “May I see her? I won’t mention marriage to her—yet.”

Lachlan sighed. “I’m afraid ye’ve missed her this visit. She returned home this morn, but as quickly was dragged off by her mother for some last-minute shopping afore she leaves for London tomorrow.”

“She’s going to London?”

“Aye, she’s tae have a season there. We fully expect her tae be coming home affianced. So any courting ye mean tae do will need tae be done there. Will that pose any problem for ye?”

“On the contrary, that actually will be much more convenient, since I’ve been elected to chaperon my cousin this season in London as well.

“Excellent. I wish ye luck then, lad, no’ that I think ye’ll be needing it.”

M
ELISSA
was disappointed that she’d missed seeing Lincoln Burnett when he stopped by Kregora the day before she departed for London, but she didn’t really have time to let it bother her too long, especially after her father assured her that she’d be seeing the
viscount
Cambury—he’d stressed the title with a wink—in London soon enough.

She had meant to grill her father about his conversation with Lincoln, but with all the last preparations before the trip, she never got around to it. Not that it mattered that much after his assurance that Lincoln would be partaking of the season as well, and she’d much prefer to be asking him directly, everything she’d like to know about him.

It was an uneventful trip to England—not her first, but it was her youngest uncle’s first, so he was actually more interested in the getting-there
part of it than she was. She loved her uncles, all of them, but Ian Six, the youngest of the sixteen brothers and last to be named Ian, was a good friend as well, so she’d been delighted when it was decided that he’d be her escort there.

Having turned twenty-six only a few months ago, Ian was as tall as his brothers, all of whom ranged in height from six to six and a half feet. He was one of the few who didn’t have the dark gold hair and light green eyes that most of them sported, same as their father. His hair was a brownish red, more on the red side but not so bright as some, and his eyes were a soft azure blue. He also had a wealth of freckles—inherited, like his hair and eyes, from his mother—which gave him a boyish look that made him seem even younger than he was. He was also one of the more playful of his brothers, and teasing, though he took his duty as her escort and confidant most seriously.

She’d talked Ian’s ear off about Lincoln for nearly the entire trip, so even he was looking forward to meeting the chap who’d snagged her interest so thoroughly. Of course, he also cautioned a few times that she not ignore the other gentlemen she’d be meeting, wanting her to have as wide a selection as possible to choose from in the end. But then Ian was one of her uncles who was feeling a bit guilty that he’d been partly to blame for ruining her prospects at home, so he intended to withhold his own opinions—if that were possible for him—and just let nature take its course.

Melissa was all for that. Or at least she had been. Now, however, she was pretty sure nature had already taken its course. Still, she was going to be in London for several months. She meant to take Ian’s advice and make an effort to be open-minded and not dismiss other eligible men out of hand, just because she was sure Lincoln was the only one she’d be wanting. Something
could
go wrong with that, after all. Lincoln’s interest
could
drift elsewhere. So she’d be foolish not to cultivate as many acquaintances as possible, to keep her own options flexible.

Her second disappointment was that it didn’t appear as if she’d be seeing Lincoln again as soon as she’d hoped to. She’d looked for him throughout the entire evening at her debut. It was a dinner party, a rather large one with thirty guests, yet what the duchess considered small and ideal for “getting her feet wet.” But Lincoln wasn’t one of the guests.

Ian didn’t go, but then he didn’t plan on going to most of the social engagements, considering the Duchess of Wrothston to be all the chaperon Melissa needed. Which was true enough. Who, after all, would dare to step out of bounds with a lady of such high esteem? To get on Megan St. James’s bad side was to court complete social ruin.

But the next day when four gentlemen showed up to call on Melissa at different hours, Ian was right there at her side for each visit. A few of those gentlemen realized that, as Ian was her male relative
in attendance, it could only be to their benefit to make friends with him, and they went out of their way to do that. Ian even liked one of the men, as they both shared a love of golf, and they spent a good thirty minutes discussing the sport.

Melissa was amused. She enjoyed golf as well and could have participated in the conversation, but the two men were so enthused over the subject, she decided not to try. It gave her an opportunity to sneak away for a nap instead.

Usually she was a bundle of energy, but even she had to admit that doing a social season in London was going to be exhausting work. Some events would last into the wee hours of the morning, a few until dawn as the duchess had warned. The older folk could sleep late or nap before the next evening’s agenda, but the young men and women who were there for the express hope of finding spouses would spend their days either calling on or being called on by all their new acquaintances. None of which allowed much time for sleeping.

Melissa’s second night out was to the opera, and she found herself disappointed once again after watching the audience more than the entertainment. Megan noticed this time, however, and remarked, “Are you looking for someone in particular or just admiring the fashions?”

There was no reason to deny it. “Lincoln Burnett. D’you know him?”

“Can’t say that I do.”

“Perhaps by his title, Viscount Cambury?”

“No, that doesn’t sound familiar either. This isn’t someone you met last night at dinner, is it? I was sure I knew everyone there.”

“Nay, I met him in Scotland only a few days afore we left. He was just there for a visit, though, and Da seemed tae think he’d be here for the season.”

“Well, then, he likely will be. I take it you’re fond of the chap?”

“Indeed.” Melissa grinned. “’Twas amazing how quickly I took tae him, as if we’d known each other forever. Was it like that wi’ you and the duke, when you first met?”

“No indeed.” Megan snorted, but as quickly she chuckled. “I tried to get him dismissed, thinking he worked for my father, and he termed me a brat right from the start. We were extremely attracted to each other, though, can’t deny that—which was probably why we tried to cover up the fact with more animosity than was called for.”

Melissa knew some of the story. She thought it was rather romantic herself. To want to marry a duke—and a particular one at that—but fall in love with and marry a horse trainer instead, only to find out afterward that you’d married the very duke you’d set your cap for after all. She hadn’t known about Lincoln’s title either, when she was so taken with him. Not that it mattered to her whether he had one or not, but at least it wasn’t something he was hiding, as Devlin St. James had done when he first met Megan.

“It’s going to be a long season, m’dear,” Megan
added now. “Your young lord will make an appearance eventually. He probably just hasn’t returned to England yet. In the meantime simply enjoy yourself. That’s what you’re here to do. Getting married will take care of itself, I’ve no doubt a’tall.”

Melissa took those words to heart and even started enjoying herself for the rest of that week and most of the next. But when her third week in London rolled around and she’d still neither seen nor heard from Lincoln Burnett, the viscount Cambury, she finally had to conclude that she wasn’t going to.