The Laird of Lochlannan (Bonnie Bride Series Book 2)

by Fiona Monroe

  Since then, however, and particularly in these last few weeks, I have come to understand my own heart better. I no longer feel that I could be the kind of wife you deserve, for you deserve someone who loves you unreservedly and entirely. I wish, therefore, to release you from our engagement, and I hope and pray that you will soon find happiness with another; someone far better suited to you than I could ever be.

  I would not by any means wish to disappoint you of the expectations that were raised by my inheritance. I can do nothing now as I do not yet have command of my fortune, but when I come of age I will, if you will permit me, make arrangements to pay your tuition fees at the Medical School until you qualify as a physician, and then bequeath a sum sufficient for you to buy into a medical practice. Please accept this gift as a token of my concern for your future, and my everlasting warm friendship.

  We shall always, I hope, remain friends. If you do not feel that is possible, I will understand, but I remain

  Your well-wisher

  Catriona

  She read this for the sixth or seventh time, and closed her eyes. However hard she laboured over the wording, it was never going to say anything other than 'I do not love you any more, I'm not sure I ever did, and I will not marry you. By the by, you have probably been supplanted by someone in my affections, and that someone is doubtless much richer than you will ever be. Take a small sum of money in recompense, and go away.'

  It could not be helped. She folded and addressed the letter, then went in search of a servant. There was never any point in ringing the hand bell sitting uselessly by her bed, as her tower room was too remote for it to be heard by anyone.

  It was Mackenzie she found first, already coming up the spiral stairs.

  Catriona looked down at her coldly. "How is the post sent out in this house?"

  "Cruikshank takes care of it, ma'am. If that's a letter you have there to go to the post, I can take it to him straight away."

  "No. I shall find him myself."

  She was not giving this letter into the possession of the girl who could be Sir Duncan's spy, or worse. She pushed past the servant none too gently on the narrow stairway, and went in quest of the butler before she could change her mind.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  To her surprise, Catriona found that she did not suffer from any pangs of regret or doubt once she knew that the letter had been taken down to the village by one of the outdoor boys. Certainty of its departure quietened all her anxieties, and she did not even — except by conscious effort now and then — wonder about how soon Mr. Carmichael would receive it, or think about how he might be feeling once the time came when he surely must have it. She supposed he would reply, and express himself with his usual petulant anger, but she wanted a response only so that she could be sure that her letter had reached him. Otherwise, it was a matter of indifference to her.

  Instead, it was Sir Duncan's movements which preoccupied her. She made bold to ask Lady Buccleuch at breakfast one morning, five days after his abrupt departure, whether she had heard from him and whether she knew when he was expected back.

  "Oh no," said Lady Buccleuch grandly, looking surprised at being addressed by her normally quiet step-niece-in-law. "I would not expect to hear from him at all. He will be back in time for the wedding feast," she added graciously.

  Catriona was also hoping for a letter from Caroline, who had made a hasty, emotional promise to write as soon as she arrived at Blackrock Castle. She understood that it was possible to reach Blackrock from Lochlannan in a single day if the weather was fair, which it had been. It was over a week now since her cousin's wedding day, and no word had arrived from her. Catriona began to become a little concerned, even though she slightly dreaded opening a long tear-stained envelope full of blotted effusions of misery.

  She even sought out Lady Ross and asked her whether she had yet had news of the bride and groom, and Lady Ross was delighted to be given the opportunity to talk about her son. She had received two letters from Mr. Ross already — one a quick note giving notice of his safe arrival, another a fuller account of his happiness — so Catriona was reassured that Caroline's silence was not due to any misadventure that might have befallen the bride and groom on their journey. Still, it was odd.

  Meanwhile, preparations for the wedding feast were going on all around. Catriona realised that Sir Duncan had been keen to bring about the marriage itself as soon as had been practically possible after his sister had accepted Mr. Ross, but that longer notice was necessary to host a proper celebration. There was game to shoot and dress, soup to prepare and guests to invite and accommodate. In a region where travel could be slow and difficult, time had to be allowed for more distant families to reach Lochlannan, and beds had to be found for many of them.

  Catriona had no part to play in any of these arrangements, but she found one afternoon that she had been thought of, nonetheless. She returned to her room to dress for dinner, about ten days after the wedding, to find Mackenzie unfolding something from a paper package.

  It always disconcerted her to discover Mackenzie in her room, even though the girl never appeared to be doing anything inappropriate. She resented that she could not forbid her to enter when she was not there without seeming unreasonable and arbitrary. "What is it?" she demanded.

  "This parcel came for you, ma'am."

  "And you opened it?" she said sharply.

  Mackenzie blinked back at her, inscrutable. She was pretty in the dark, rather swarthy way that seemed more typical of common Highlanders than the redhead of popular imagination. "It's from Mrs. Beattie in Inverlannan, ma'am. It's a new gown for the ceilidh. I was expecting it."

  Which was more than Catriona had been. She did not admit this, but watched in silence while her unwanted maid finished laying the garment out on the bed.

  It was an exquisite creation in soft ivory silk, made up in the latest fashion and trimmed with what looked like French lace. As Catriona stroked the skirt to marvel at the lightness and sheen of the fabric, she saw that the neckline was embroidered with tiny seed pearls. It was a dress fit for the bride herself, and she doubted Caroline had anything half so fine.

  She could not help making a soft exclamation of delight.

  "It's beautiful, ma'am," said Mackenzie, in a neutral tone. "Will you try it on now, or tomorrow? We should allow time for Mrs. Beattie to make alterations if they're needed."

  She doubted that any would be needed. Mrs. Beattie had her measurements very recently, after all. "Tomorrow will be soon enough, Mackenzie. It's past time to dress for dinner now. I don't need help. Leave me."

  "Very good, ma'am. There's an envelope," she added, after a quick curtsy that somehow managed to come across as insolent.

  Catriona waited until the maid had closed the door before picking up the note, which was in the empty paper wrapper. Her name was written on it in a strong, dashing hand that she was sure she recognised; she unfolded it, and read, 'I would not have my partner in rags. DB.'

  He must have stopped on his way through Inverlannan the very morning he left, to give orders for this to Mrs. Beattie and leave the note with her. Catriona couldn't help smiling as she read it, absurd as it was, and then a cloud passed over her heart as she wondered how Mackenzie could possibly have known to expect the gift.

  The day of the wedding feast drew close, and still there was no sign of Sir Duncan returning. Nor was there any letter from Mr. Carmichael, and it was a worry at the back of Catriona's mind that she could not finally consider herself to be free of that engagement until he had acknowledged it.

  The very morning before the feast, Caroline returned with Mr. Ross and her new father-in-law. Catriona saw them arrive from her vantage point at the library window, where she had been spending more and more time over the past week. It was true that she was improving her mind by reading her way through the library's worthier volumes, but she was also in hopes of catching sight of a big black hunter trotting into the forecourt.

  When she went down into
the hall to welcome her cousin, she heard noise and laughter before she had turned the corner on the staircase. Caroline was embracing her mother and Lady Ross, but when she spotted Catriona on the stairs she gave a little cry of delight and ran towards her.

  "Oh! Dear cousin! There you are, still here. Is it really true that Duncan has gone?"

  Her entire aspect had changed. Her cheeks glowed with colour, her eyes were bright, and her mouth... It was a moment or two before Catriona realised what was different about her mouth. It was no longer set tensely, drawn into a near pout. Instead, though she was not smiling at that moment, laughter seemed to dance around her lips.

  "He has... gone to town to bring back some friends for the party, that is all," said Catriona cautiously. "I believe he intends to return before tomorrow."

  "Oh, it is just as likely that he will forget all about it and stay away. He forgets Lochlannan for weeks at a time once he is in town. But never mind him! We don't need him to have a wonderful ceilidh, do we? My husband can be master of ceremonies instead."

  This last was addressed in part to Mr. Ross himself, who had approached as if he could not leave his wife's side for very long. "What was that, my dear?"

  Caroline took hold of his hand and drew him closer, smiling warmly at him. "I was telling Miss Dunbar, if my brother does not come home by tomorrow night, you can host the ceilidh yourself. You are so very much more handsome in your plaids, anyway, my love."

  Catriona watched in some astonishment as Caroline put her disengaged hand on Mr. Ross's shoulder, and kissed him playfully on the cheek. He responded by squeezing her around the waist and murmuring something in her ear, which made her giggle.

  She had expected that Caroline would want to hurry her away for private conversation as soon as she had taken refreshment after her journey, but instead Caroline and Mr. Ross headed out into the grounds arm-in-arm together and did not return until Cruikshank had already rung the dinner gong.

  Irritating as Caroline frequently was, unwelcome as her confidences had often been, Catriona now felt unreasonably annoyed and disappointed that her cousin seemed uninterested in spending time with her. She had not even apologised for failing to write. Caroline's careless declaration that her brother would as like as not stay in town, and not even bother to return for the ceilidh, certainly did not make her feel better.

  Surely he would not miss his own sister's wedding feast? But, she thought as studied her reflection in Caroline's long mirror in the morning sunlight, it would not be unlike what she already understood of him. He had cared about getting Caroline safely to the altar, and had been energetic in bringing that about; but once that was accomplished, she could imagine him losing interest in the business of celebrating with friends and family.

  She was in Caroline's sitting room because there was only a small hand mirror in her own bedchamber, and she wanted to take a proper look at herself in her new ballgown. She had already tried it on and established to Mackenzie's satisfaction that it fit perfectly, but she wanted to look at herself at least once before she dressed that night. She had managed to evade her vigilant maid by sneaking through the castle before breakfast, the gown slung furtively over her arms.

  Caroline was nowhere to be seen. Catriona had rather hoped that she might show the dress to her cousin, and solicit her opinion and admiration, but her apartments were deserted. There was a travelling trunk next to the bedroom door, but the bed itself showed a smooth, neat counterpane pulled over undisturbed pillows. Caroline must have spent the whole night with Mr. Ross, a realisation which gave Catriona an odd twinge. Certainly, they had both retired together the night before, unusually early.

  So Caroline stood alone before the glass, turning this way and that to let the morning sunlight catch the tiny pearls glistening in the creamy silk. By candlelight, the effect would be softer but quite as brilliant. Exquisite as it was, she could scarcely take any pleasure in the gown, now that she feared he would not see her wearing it.

  "Oh!"

  Catriona whirled around, startled by the exclamation that had almost been a shriek. Caroline had come in silently, and had been reaching down to open the trunk when, evidently, she had realised she was not alone.

  "Oh!" she said again. "You startled me, I did not expect you to be there! I've just come to fetch my other shawl from the trunk, there is a little breeze — Mr. Ross did not think the lace one quite substantial enough for walking out, after breakfast... Are you not coming down to breakfast? What are you wearing?"

  "This is my gown for tonight."

  Caroline's eyes lit up and she bounded over to take a closer look. "Oh! It is delightful. It is fine enough for a London ballroom! Are those pearls around the neck?"

  "There are some embroidered into the hem too."

  "The lace! The silk, so fine! This must have been made in Edinburgh."

  "No... it came from Mrs. Beattie."

  "Pff, Mrs. Beattie may have made up the gown, but these lace panels, this beadwork, that was certainly not done by her," Caroline declared with the definitive air of an expert. "Was it very expensive?"

  "I do not know. It was a gift from Sir Duncan."

  "What! Duncan ordered a dress for you?"

  "Why is that surprising?" said Catriona, suddenly very conscious. A blush was rising in her cheek.

  "Oh! I don't know. It is an odd thing for him to bother about, that's all."

  Catriona was both gratified and pained, and longed to ask Caroline whether she really thought that her brother was not coming back for the party. He was leaving it very late indeed, if he did intend to be there. Instead, she said with self-conscious change of subject, "And are you well, dear cousin? You seem... well."

  "Very well. Oh, very well indeed!" She clasped her hands together.

  "You find married life suits you, then."

  It was Caroline's turn to blush. Her normally sallow cheeks flamed pink, and she cast her eyes down while smiling irrepressibly. "Oh! Yes. I did not imagine... I had no idea! Cousin, I cannot now even remember what I thought I liked about — that — person. I will tell you the truth, he did kiss me, and he did do a little more than just kiss me — but not — you know — nothing so bad as to despoil me — I can tell you that now, though I will never ever talk of this again."

  Since Catriona had surmised something of the sort merely from the fact of her cousin having been alone with Lord Daventry in secret on at least one occasion, she said nothing.

  Caroline took her hand and led her eagerly to sit with her on the chaise longue. "And honestly, truly, I did not like it. It frightened me a little. Well, I knew how dangerous it was that we were doing anything of the kind —if my brother or if anyone had found us— so I thought I was just frightened because it was wrong, and that it would be better once we were married. I liked it well enough when he kissed me, except that I was frightened of what he might want to do more. But I did not know... I had no idea." Her face glowed again. "When Mr. Ross first kissed me, it felt so much — more — and then — on our wedding night — he was so gentle and kind — he took such care of me — it was so delightful, sensations such as I did not know existed." She made a happy puffing sound. "We did not sleep until the sun was shining and the birds were singing."

  "Caroline, I'm very pleased that you are happy with Mr. Ross," Catriona said sincerely, though her own heart ached.

  "Duncan was right," said Caroline, in a wondering tone. "Why is Duncan always right?"

  "Because, dear sister, I am one of the brilliant minds of the age," said a familiar dry voice from outside the door, which was half-open to the hall. "Although do tell what I'm right about this time."

  Everything inside Catriona seemed to leap up, but she kept her eyes downcast and would not look at him as he strode into the room. He brought with him a freshness of summer air and a strong whiff of leather and horse sweat.

  "Oh! Duncan. You have come back after all," said Caroline, indifferently.

  He kissed her. "Just this minute jumped down f
rom my horse. I've brought MacPherson and both the Coltrane brothers with me, come down and say hello when you're ready. Breakfast is ready in the hall. Miss Dunbar." He nodded to her.

  Still she did not raise her eyes.

  "Caroline?" Mr. Ross appeared in the doorway behind Sir Duncan. "Oh, hello there, Buccleuch. My love, I thought you might have lost your shawl, you've been so long."

  "No! I have it here." Caroline jumped to her feet and went eagerly to her husband, and they went from the room together.

  The low sound of their voices and Caroline's giggling was cut off as Sir Duncan closed the door.

  They were alone.

  "Married bliss," he said. "Who would have thought it, eh?"

  "You, sir. Evidently."

  "Evidently."

  She stood. "If you will excuse me, sir. As you can see, I need to change before I can go down to breakfast."

  "There's no hurry. Let me look at you. Do you like it?"

  "I... Yes. I like it. Thank you. It was very thoughtful."

  "How do you know what my thoughts were full of? Maybe I was thinking of myself, not you. Having rashly committed myself to standing up with you for the first dance, I could hardly have you looking like a scarecrow, as you did when you first arrived. But it becomes you. You look presentable in it. You will look better once your maid has done your hair, and whatever else it is maids do to make women beautiful."

  He said all this brusquely, pacing back and forth, casting her fleeting glances.

  Catriona was silent, waiting for him to go, happy that he was there.

  "My sister is wrong, you know." He stopped pacing and looked her full in the face. "I am not always right. I was wrong to insist you break your engagement with the medical jackanapes, and you were right to tell me so to my face. Not that I'll put up with impudence like that on a regular basis, d'you hear? But after all, it is no business of mine. Marry the cadging cur when you're of age. Marry him tomorrow, for that matter, I'll not stand in your way."