Earl of Kinross

by Meara Platt

  Lara gave a small cry and her hand went to her throat. “Has it to do with my family?”

  Marcus knew she was already imagining the worst. This messenger had not come from the queen, so he suspected it had nothing to do with the fate of the Le Brecques. This had to be about renewed troubles in France.

  Damn. He had hoped for a little more time at home, especially now that Lara had tumbled so spectacularly into his life.

  He glanced at her.

  She looked beautiful. Stunning, really. Her hair was done up fashionably, but he still recalled the golden cascade of her hair about her creamy shoulders as she lay in his bed at the club.

  Her gown was a shimmering blue, the color of lapis, but all he could think about was the beauty of her body now hidden beneath the swirls of fabric.

  He introduced Lara to Captain Griscomb and then took her arm in his. He also leaned close to speak quietly in her ear. “Come, Lara. Let’s hear the news before we go in to share ours with my family.”

  They’d decided to tell her father of their wedding plans tomorrow morning since he would already be abed by the time supper was over, and Marcus still wanted to keep them apart until he was certain all of their assailants were rounded up.

  As Marcus led Lara to the study, he was already mulling the possible reasons for Prinny to summon him. He dreaded the news he was about to receive, already suspecting its outcome. He did not wish to postpone his and Lara’s wedding announcement, but knew this was likely to happen.

  He conveyed nothing of his concern to Lara, preferring to wait until the royal messenger actually confirmed his fears. He shut the door after them and offered Lara and Griscomb seats, but he remained standing beside Lara, his hand resting on the back of her chair. “What has happened, Griscomb?”

  “News of a small rebellion in France, my lord. His Royal Highness believes it is the start of something far more serious. These small pockets of resistance were expected, both Wellington and Hartford warned him so. Still, they are troublesome. Lord Castlereagh has been dispatched to quell the unrest diplomatically.”

  Marcus nodded. “But his negotiations will proceed more smoothly and with a better result when backed by a show of strength. Is that it?”

  “His Royal Highness has summoned his top advisors. He has been receiving dispatches all day from France. You are his highest ranking general presently in London. He would have liked to discuss this with you, Wellington and Hartford,” he said, referring to Alexander Beastling, the Duke of Hartford, one of the finest commanders on the field of battle. “Unfortunately, they are not here. So, he must rely on you alone. He specifically commanded that you be present at this meeting. In truth, I doubt he’ll care what the others he’s summoned have to say. He trusts only you.” Griscomb cast Lara a remorseful glance. “My sincerest apologies for disturbing your evening, Lady Lara.”

  Marcus motioned to the captain. “Give me a moment, Griscomb, and I shall go with you.”

  As soon as the man strode out to await him in the entry hall, Marcus turned to Lara. “My love…”

  He saw the tears beginning to form in her eyes. “I know what you’re going to say, Marcus.” She drew in a breath and let it out in a shaky laugh. “I wanted to wait for Hugh’s return anyway. A mere few days ago, I meant nothing to you. It’s all moved so fast, hasn’t it? Our marriage plans are too rushed. Folly. Let’s set them aside for now.”

  “Not folly, Lara. I want to marry you, but I don’t know that we’ll have time before I’m sent back to France. I think the Prince Regent means to have me leave tomorrow or the day after, which means I’ll be spending every possible moment preparing for this journey as well as making certain you and your father are no longer under threat from Dunning or Montvey.” He sighed and ran a hand across the nape of his neck. “But as for our moving too fast toward marriage, my falling in love with you has not been rushed or foolish. You’ve always meant the world to me.”

  He saw that she didn’t believe him. “Even when you were a little girl, I treasured you as your brother did. You were his little sister, so you became mine as well. Hugh adored you. Called you his angel.” Marcus chuckled, recalling the imp Lara had been. “I knew you were more of a little devil than an angel, always fearless and determined to show us you could do anything we could do.”

  “Which I could not,” Lara said with a gentle smile, “but I was stubborn even then and would never admit I wasn’t as strong or as capable as the two of you, even though you were years older. Seems you were always saving me.”

  As though hit by a sudden blow of recollection, she gasped and looked up at him. “You. You always protected me. You were always the one to come to my aid whenever I got into mischief. How did I not notice this before? Marcus, it was always you.”

  She shook her head and laughed in disbelief. “How could I have been so dense?”

  “You kept Hugh constantly busy looking out for you, too. I merely helped whenever I was around.” He nodded. “You may have been Hugh’s angel first, but you became my angel, too.”

  She gazed at him, stunned for the longest moment, then threw her arms around him. “I want to say so much to you. Where do I start?”

  “There’s no need, Lara. I did this because you were my little angel. Is it any surprise that I fell in love with you now? I understand your heart as you understand mine. I’ve always known your heart. If you wish it, I will obtain the special license and marry you before my ship sails to France.”

  “No, you’ve said it yourself. You won’t have time. It’s more important that you concentrate on what you need for your return to France.”

  He eased her back a little so he could gaze into her tawny eyes. “If I leave before making you my wife, I want you to promise me–”

  “Another promise?”

  “Before I leave, I’ll speak to my cousin, Tynan. If it turns out you are carrying my child, we will be married immediately by proxy. Ty will stand in my place. I will tell him this.”

  She was blushing furiously. “He’ll know that we’d…that you and I…at the Wicked Earls’ Club.”

  “Lara, my love. If you are with child, everyone will soon know.” He sighed. “Ty can be trusted to keep this secret from everyone until it becomes necessary to reveal it. He’ll keep it even from my mother and Miranda. Especially from them.”

  “Because they’ll find me immoral and disgraceful.”

  He heard the pain in her voice, and put the blame squarely on himself. “No, my love. They’ll fuss over you and coddle you until you are ready to scream in exasperation. My father fell in love with my mother at first sight. I’ll wager my earldom she did not go to her marriage bed an innocent. Knowing my father, she was likely despoiled within a week of meeting him. Perhaps no more than a day.”

  “Marcus! Is that any way to speak of your mother?”

  “As for Miranda…” He rolled his eyes and chuckled. “She wasn’t innocent even as a newborn babe. So, neither of them will be casting stones.”

  He kissed her lightly on the lips. “They will honor you and treasure you as I do.”

  Her eyes were watering, but her breaths were now calmer. “I am most definitely dotty in love with you. Introduce me to the rest of your family and then go to the Prince Regent. Whatever happens, I don’t want you to worry about me. I’ve managed on my own these past few years. I’ll be all right now.”

  She swallowed hard and continued. “No talk of marriage until you return from France. However, with your permission, in your absence I’d like to enlist your mother and Miranda to help me with the matter of clearing my father and my brother. Now that you’ve managed to catch the queen’s ear, I don’t want her to forget my family’s plight.”

  “Yes, of course. As for Miranda and my mother, I don’t think you or I could hold them back. Tynan will help as well, I’ll let him know you might ask.” He tried to keep his manner calm, but he was in anguish and his heart was breaking.

  He loved Lara.

  He would be sent
back to France, possibly as early as tomorrow morning.

  What would the future hold for them?

  CHAPTER NINE

  MARCUS WAS ADMITTED into the Prince Regent’s ornate meeting room at St. James’s Palace. Several members of the House of Lords and several high-ranking army officers were present. The chair to the Prince Regent’s right was unoccupied, no doubt reserved for him.

  “Come in, Kinross. We’ve been waiting for you.” Prinny motioned for him to take the empty chair. He signaled to one of his footmen to pour Marcus a glass of wine, then dismissed all the servants, waiting for them to leave before he addressed the eight men seated around the table. “Lord Mortimer here tells me his Foreign Office has received word there’s fighting going on in Marseilles. The Duke of Hartford has corresponded with me directly as well, keeping me apprised of these rebellious movements. Hartford is concerned.”

  Three large candelabra dominated the polished mahogany table, their tapers lit and casting a fiery glow about the room. The flames reflected off the silver trays and crystal chandeliers. Lord Mortimer harrumphed to clear his throat before beginning his report. “These are minor skirmishes. I doubt they’ll amount to more. Hartford is making too much of this.”

  Marcus frowned, not liking Mortimer’s quick dismissal of these concerns. “Our troops are spread thin at the moment,” Marcus said, having served with Hartford and respecting the man’s intelligence. “Perhaps the regiments were brought back to England too soon.”

  “Don’t be preposterous, Kinross. We have thousands of men still there,” Lord Rogan interjected.

  Marcus had never liked this man. “They are not all healthy troops. Those still able to fight are busy protecting France’s eastern border. Many of these soldiers are recovering from malnutrition, dysentery, typhus, and diphtheria. They are not battle ready. Hartford does not have the troops available to deal with Marseilles if they become more than a few angry Frenchmen tossing bottles at our soldiers.”

  Prinny then went around the table, hearing from every lord present. “It is nothing, of course,” Lord Balmore intoned. “Won’t take more than a few days to beat down. Hartford could do it if he really wanted to.”

  “No, he cannot.” Marcus was fighting to keep his irritation in check. “As I’ve just said, he’s busy protecting France’s eastern border from our own allies. My brother is there with his regiment and confirms matters are tense.”

  Lord Rogan cast him a dismissive glare. “Why would they be tense with our allies?”

  “Because we are trying to keep them from grabbing French land now that Napoleon has been defeated. Napoleon has trampled over some of these countries and they want what they feel is their due. But as you know, the Crown does not wish France to be divided up as a spoil of war.”

  “It is not going to happen,” Lord Cade said with a huff. “Diplomatic discussions are underway. France’s monarchy has already been restored.”

  “A weak king, not well liked by his people.” Marcus shifted uncomfortably. The more these lords insisted it was nothing, the more he sensed it could quickly turn into another uprising. Unseating an unpopular king and grabbing land were not the only worries, for Napoleon’s campaigns had wreaked havoc on the lives of everyone in Europe, and there were those who wished to exact brutal revenge by going after anyone who was French, even old women and young children.

  “Kinross,” Prinny said, waiting for all around the table to express their opinions. “What do you make of all this?”

  He took a moment to organize his thoughts. “It seems to me…Napoleon is still very much a threat even while in exile. My first recommendation is to remove him from Elba and move him to a more remote location.”

  Lord Cade scoffed at the notion. “He is under constant guard, no longer a threat. How does this address the problem in Marseilles, Kinross?”

  Most of the men around the table expressed the same dismissive opinion.

  Prinny ignored them. “Why do you believe we must move him?”

  “Elba is too close. He stays in the mind of his people. And while he remains close, he also has hope of making his escape. A fishing vessel is all he would need to flee the island and return to France to rouse his countrymen. If he escapes, the handful of men causing us grief in Marseilles will turn into an army of tens of thousands in the blink of an eye.”

  “There’s no help for it. You must return as soon as possible, mustn’t you Kinross?” Prinny said, ignoring the chatter around the table.

  Marcus groaned inwardly. He’d just talked himself back to France. “Or you could simply move Napoleon farther away.”

  Prinny arched an eyebrow. “And rewrite the terms of the truce? That will take months. Kinross, I am truly sorry to ship you back to France on such short notice. You’ll return with a regiment of King’s Dragoon Guards and a Highland regiment of foot soldiers. They’re housed here in London and ready to leave tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” Marcus frowned. “It cannot be done so fast. We’ll need tents, blankets, ammunition. Food.”

  Prinny shrugged, his mind now made up that Marcus was to leave. “The requisitions officers will know what you need, they’ve been supplying our troops for a decade now. Give them a list of anything else you’ll want. It ought to be enough for now. When you reach Marseilles, assess the situation and let me know if you require more assistance.”

  “I’ll want a contingent of light dragoon troops.”

  “They’ll be sent over as soon as possible. Perhaps only a week behind you.”

  When Prinny finally dismissed him, well after the others had been sent on their way, Marcus returned to his aunt’s townhouse. He hoped Lara was still awake. It was late and she’d had a harrowing day, almost losing her life when they were attacked upon leaving Buckingham House and then losing her innocence in that ridiculously enormous bed designed for hedonistic sex parties. Even when young and foolish, his tastes had never run to that. He was never one to share or take another’s leavings.

  Lara was all he could think about at the moment.

  Miranda’s butler opened the door to him and cast him a mirthless smile. “They’re all awaiting you in the study, my lord.”

  He strode down the hall, quite familiar with the house, and entered the study to face them. He sought out Lara first. She was seated on the green silk settee beside his mother. Miranda sat on a matching silk chair beside them. His cousins stood beside the hearth with brandy glasses in hand. “I need a moment alone with Lara.”

  To his relief, Tynan ushered his brothers out. “Come along, tadpoles.” Finn, Ronan, and Joshua eyed Marcus curiously on their way out, but passed no comment.

  His mother and aunt followed them, but not before tossing him meaningful glances. He had no clue what they were trying to convey. He didn’t care at the moment.

  He shut the door behind him and crossed the room to take Lara in his arms.

  She rose as he approached. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, love. I ship out day after tomorrow. Prinny won’t allow me to delay my departure beyond that. He would have sent me off yesterday if he could have done.” He drew her into his arms and held her tightly, wishing they had more time together. There was still so much to accomplish, promises to Lara that he needed to keep. “Lara–”

  “It’s too rushed, Marcus. You’ll never obtain the special license, properly prepare for your return to France, and ensure my family’s attackers are safely put away. It’s too much to handle in a day. I’ll plan for our wedding upon your return.”

  “Let me do this now,” he said, his voice ragged with concern. “Before I leave.”

  “You were with the Prince Regent this evening. Earlier, you had an audience with the queen. Don’t you realize how important you are? And how badly I can damage you if we marry now? So let’s say no more about it.” She kissed him on the lips. “Will you take me with you on your errands tomorrow?”

  “Of course. We need to follow up with the Exchequer and the House o
f Lords. I’ll have Tynan join us since he’ll be taking up the slack in my absence. I’ll keep Mr. Barrow on retainer. He’ll assist you and Tynan. You’ll have two Bow Street runners to guard you and your father at all times. Tynan has access to my funds. He’ll provide whatever you need. Don’t be stubborn. If you need anything, just ask him. If you see anything you like, buy it and put it on my account. The more frivolous and unnecessary, the better.”

  She laughed.

  But he wasn’t laughing. He wanted to spoil her, to treat her as she deserved to be treated and had not been in too many years. He swallowed her in his arms. “Lara, I hate this.”

  “So do I,” she admitted, resting her head against his shoulder. “Hurry back to me. I’m nineteen already. I shall soon be on the shelf.”

  He knew she was teasing him, purposely keeping her manner light. “Make me a promise, Marcus.”

  He laughed lightly. “Ah, now who is tossing conditions?”

  She smiled. “You’ll miss this Christmas celebration, but promise me you’ll be home by next Christmas and will kiss me under the mistletoe.”

  “Lara, I promise. You’ll have your mistletoe kiss from me on Christmas eve. I never break a promise.”

  Surprisingly, this calmed her. “I know, my love,” she said, smiling up at him. “Now I know you’ll come home safe, for you are a man of your word.”

  It was ridiculous to believe a simple promise would serve as a talisman to keep him safe, but he was not about to point this out to Lara. She was no peahen. If his assurance gave her comfort, he was glad of it.

  Besides, Lara was a force of nature. If anyone could wish him safe and make it happen, it was Lara.

  Marcus met with the rest of his family soon afterward, arranging for Tynan to join them tomorrow, and enlisting the aid of all his family to help Lara and her father.

  When Marcus left for France two days later in the pouring rain, he expected to remain there for perhaps a month or two. But Napoleon’s escape from Elba in February of 1815, and his march to Paris to unseat the unpopular French king put back in power by England and its allies, threw all of Europe into chaos.