An Unsuitable Lady for a Lord (Scottish Lords and Ladies)

by Cathleen Ross

  She couldn’t help feeling that Lord Lyle had an agenda and she was in some way becoming entangled in his web.

  “We must all change soon for dinner, but first come walk with me to your chamber, where you can refresh yourself,” the duchess said, urging her forward. “I know I should allow the housekeeper, Mrs. Burns, to escort you to your room, but indulge me. I am proud to sponsor and promote clever invention, so bear with me while I show you some of the manor’s special features.”

  “I look forward to it, your grace. I am somewhat of an innovative thinker, myself.”

  “I am glad to know you, Lady Crystal. No need for titles and formality, though, as it is to be an informal weekend with family, and I want you to be comfortable.”

  “Yes, ma’am. It’s an honor to meet you, as well.”

  She was delighted to learn the duchess was an innovator who sponsored inventors. What a clever lady. They left the men at the grand entrance hall to walk along a wide corridor lined with magnificent portraits of former dukes and duchesses. The housekeeper followed discreetly, out of earshot.

  “Tell me, ma’am, what did Lord Lyle have to say about me?”

  “He said you were sweet-natured and gentle. A perfect lady from an impeccable family. He claims he cannot fault you,” the duchess said.

  Crystal blinked. That didn’t sound like her or her family. He clearly didn’t know about her hard-drinking clan and their errant ways. The clan lived north of Loch Ness and could be a law unto themselves. What was he up to?

  “We’ve honestly just met, though it is kind of him to say so.”

  The duchess nodded to a footman, who opened two large carved wooden doors to reveal a grand reception room with an enormous fireplace at one end.

  Crystal gasped, lifting her gaze in awe. “This is a masterpiece. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

  The duchess smiled. “You are a lady of excellent taste. I’m glad you appreciate it. Lomond has invited the prince regent to come and hunt.”

  “Does the prince hunt?” she asked in surprise, thinking of the corpulent Prince George.

  The duchess put a hand to her mouth and bent toward Crystal. “Only beautiful women, I have heard.”

  Crystal laughed and followed the duchess into the great reception hall.

  “This room has just been finished. We had an Italian master painter and his apprentices here painting the ceiling for months. The Axminster carpets were woven to match. They didn’t have a loom big enough to weave both carpets, so they had to be done separately,” the duchess explained.

  The ceiling was painted with Scottish hunting scenes set into the plasterwork. On the floor were several enormous carpets woven with colors matching the ceiling and set with a repeated Scottish thistle.

  “This is truly a room fit for royalty. Will the prince regent really come?”

  “That would require him to leave his wife, Maria Fitzherbert.”

  “But…he’s married to Caroline of Brunswick,” Crystal said, confused.

  “He married Fitzherbert without his father’s permission, so it is not considered legal,” the duchess said. “But I believe he loves her as much as a dissolute prince is capable of love.”

  “Poor Caroline. I knew they were separated. Why must we women be forced to marry men who have no regard for us?” Crystal said sadly.

  The duchess looked at her with a puzzled expression. “But that is how things have always been done. And it’s not just women. Prince George was forced to marry Caroline, or his father would not pay his debts. My own father insisted I marry an earl of sixty when I was nineteen. I would have preferred a younger husband,” she added with a quirk of a smile, “but I did my duty. Then I made sure I married Lomond, the man of my own choosing, the next time.”

  Crystal found herself smiling again in this delightful woman’s company. “You appear to have a love match.”

  “Wealth brings independence. I am grateful my first husband left me well provided for. I believe a woman’s second marriage should be of her own choosing.”

  “I think a woman should always choose her own husband. It must be terrible to be married to a man one doesn’t care for.”

  “When estates and titles are at stake, there is no other way,” the duchess said matter-of-factly.

  It was time for things to change. At least if Crystal had anything to do with it. For now, she kept her thoughts to herself.

  Leaving the reception room, they strolled back along the hallway, where the duchess opened an ornate door to reveal a carved wooden bench with an enamel bowl holding water set into it. She leaned in and pulled a cord. Water filled the bowl, swirled around, and disappeared down a hole.

  Crystal clapped her hands. “I know it is indecorous to speak of, but this must be a flushing water closet!”

  “Magnificent, is it not?”

  “I have heard of them, but never seen one,” Crystal said, admiring the clever fixture.

  “I called in the inventor, Mr. Alexander Cumming, to make sure it works,” the duchess said, her face bright with glee. “Is it not a wonderful device? I have several placed around the house, since we have fifty bedrooms. Step inside and try it out, if you wish.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Crystal said, closing the door and taking a moment to examine the mechanics. Next to the bench was a stand holding a washbasin, and above it, a slim iron plumbing faucet was affixed to the wall.

  She couldn’t get over the immense practicality or the sheer luxury of the small room.

  “How clever you are, ma’am,” she said after she rejoined the duchess.

  “I have no liking for the chamber pots kept behind the screens in reception rooms. And as for using a bourdaloue at the opera—” The duchess shuddered.

  Crystal didn’t blame her. She also refused to use the porcelain vessels women were forced to resort to when there was no convenience available.

  The duchess turned and motioned to the housekeeper. “I’ll have Mrs. Burns show you to your chamber now. I assume you’ll wish to rest. We dine at six.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. I’m truly in awe of your home. His grace must hold you in high esteem to allow you such freedom in planning,” she said, delighted with the personal tour. Most aristocrats would not be so welcoming to a stranger of lower social circumstances, despite her family’s ancient lineage.

  “Lomond can appear stern, as can Lord Lyle, but there is much good in both of them. I’m so glad Lyle has finally brought someone delightful and intelligent to meet us.”

  “Are you talking about me?” Lord Lyle strode down the corridor to join them. He had changed from his riding clothes into a dark, double-breasted tailcoat and snug, ankle-length pantaloons. His cream silk waistcoat, topped with a neck full of white linen, extended below the front of his tailcoat. Crystal felt her heart drop to her knees. From his thick, black hair and long sideburns to his perfectly spit-polished black leather shoes, he was devastating. A delicious citrus scent permeated the air around him.

  He took her hand and kissed it. She’d removed her gloves, and his lips were hot, searing the back of her palm. A sizzle of lust so raw, so intense, made her knees weak. She had to remember to close her mouth when her chin dropped; such was the power of his sensuality.

  “Indeed we were, Lyle. I was just about to say I’m delighted you have brought home such a charming acquaintance, seeing as you refused the duke’s request to do a season.”

  “Have you ever seen two bulls lock heads?” he asked Crystal with an amused grin that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Unfortunately, one must die before the other gives way.”

  “I am glad you are here, Lady Crystal,” the duchess said gamely. “Perhaps your visit will relieve the tension.”

  “Perhaps his lordship doesn’t wish to marry,” Crystal said, knowing full well how Lord Lyle felt about the matter.

 
A shocked expression crossed the duchess’s face. “The duchy must have an heir. Lomond only has two sons, and sadly, no more will follow, it seems.”

  “Are two sons not enough?” Crystal asked, as the heavy burden Lord Lyle was under dawned on her.

  “My reluctance to marry and breed is a great source of annoyance to my father. He invites endless friends and acquaintances here with their daughters, to no avail.”

  The duchess glanced around, appearing uncomfortable. “I’ll leave you with Lyle, as I have a letter to write before I change for dinner. Mrs. Burns will show you to your room when you are ready.”

  Crystal turned to Lord Lyle when the duchess had left. “I had no idea you were under such pressure to wed, even though you told me it was expected of you. I hope that is not why you brought me here.”

  Lord Lyle pursed his lips. “I invited you to Lomond House because I want to get to know you better. I appreciate we’ve only just met, but you enchant me. It’s a relief to meet a lady I actually like.”

  She grimaced. “You know I have no interest in marriage. And even if I did, we barely know each other. I feel you are up to something.”

  “You are very suspicious, Lady Crystal,” he teased, but his pale complexion deepened.

  “You saved me from a difficult situation, and I’m grateful, but once I’ve returned the favor by coming here, I have done what I said I would. Don’t use me to appease your father. I came to Edinburgh to further the cause of women, and that doesn’t include marriage.”

  Chapter Six

  The housekeeper showed Crystal up a flight of stairs to her sumptuous bedchamber. “Here you are, my lady. The rose room. Pull the bell cord if you need anything.” She curtsied and left.

  She paused at the door. The chamber was heart-stoppingly magnificent.

  The elaborate room had cornices and woodwork all painted a pale shade of pink that had been picked out from the striped wallpaper, which featured lines of tiny rosebuds from ceiling to floor. The curtains and bed hangings were patterned with roses in bunches. The chamber smelled sweet and welcoming, and the sound of birds chirping floated in from the open window.

  There were two doors leading from the bedchamber. One was a dressing room, where she could see Hilda unpacking her gowns into an elegant chinoiserie clothes press. She didn’t open the door to the other. Instead, her maid came out of the dressing room and regarded the bed with her eyebrows raised.

  On the pillow sat one deep red long-stemmed rose tied with a matching ribbon bow.

  She walked over, picked it up, and smelled it. “Did Lord Lyle leave this?”

  “I dinnae ken. Clearly your speech mentioning desire impressed him, if he did. Do you think he means to call on you tonight?” the maid teased.

  A flush burned Crystal’s cheeks. “Oh dear, did that dreadful slip of the tongue reach your ears?”

  “The very next day, via the water deliverer to the kitchen maid to me. Seems everyone who is anyone and their servants were talking about it.”

  “Those stubborn, rock-headed Scots wouldn’t listen to a word I said, and I lost my temper. It just came out.”

  “You have your father’s temper and tongue.”

  “He got away with it because of his sex,” she said woefully.

  “Never were truer words spoken. Now, should I lay out your nightgown, or do you wish to sleep naked?” This time Hilda waggled her eyebrows.

  “You know you’d be shocked if I did. You’re the one always telling me I’m too forward.”

  “You could get away with it in the Highlands when your father was alive, for no man would lay a hand on you. We’ll have to come up with another strategy. We could always swap chambers… The marquis is the fairest man I’ve seen, an’ I dinnae think he’d notice the difference in the dark.”

  Crystal laughed, looking at her stout maid, who stood with her hands on her ample hips, merriment on her face. “And just where are you sleeping, should I find the need to switch chambers?”

  “On the third story, where no lord will wish to come calling, on account of he’ll expire after he’s climbed all those back stairs.”

  Somehow, she doubted the athletic Lord Lyle would expire from anything. “He is handsome and will be hard to resist, but I’ll keep that in mind,” she added with a quirk of a smile.

  “Now I have something to show you. It’s the oddest contraption, but worth seeing. I’ve naught seen the likes of it before,” the maid said, striding to the unopened door.

  She followed her maid into a tiled room, where an elegant wooden commode sat. In the center of the room was a large contraption made of long pipes that extended to the ceiling, sitting in a round, metal bath. A large basin full of small holes sat atop the pipes. There was water pooled in the bath below, and next to it, a pump.

  “What is it?” Crystal asked in wonder.

  “It’s called a shower bath. The head housekeeper showed me how to use it, should you wish to bathe. But you’ll need to wear this waxed cone hat on your head so your hair doesn’t get wet.”

  Hilda handed it to her, and she thought she would look the fool wearing the thing. Her maid then pushed on the pump, and water from the bath below was sucked into the pipes, traveled upwards, and sprayed out from the perforated basin above.

  “The water falls over your shoulders, runs down, and the pump takes it up again. I ordered up some hot water because I thought you’d wish to try it.”

  “Good heavens. Is a hip bath not good enough?” Crystal bent and put her fingers in the shower water. “Ugh! It’s icy cold.”

  “It will improve when hot water is added,” the maid said, then went to answer a knock at the door. Several footmen carrying in large jugs of steaming water filled the circular bath.

  When they were gone, Crystal picked up a packet from a shelf on which sat several exotic toiletries. She unwrapped the silk paper and smelled the soap inside, closing her eyes in rapture. “It smells of bergamot.”

  “Can I try, my lady?” Hilda held it close and took a large sniff. “Oh, how wonderful. I’d even get in that contraption to use something as lovely-smelling as this.”

  Crystal opened a large wooden box sitting on the bathroom shelf. Inside was every powder and makeup she’d ever seen in the apothecary—and some she hadn’t. She pulled out several white paper disks imprinted with white powder and examined them. “Will you look at this?”

  “Don’t use those. I heard tell a lady lost all her eyebrows using it,” Hilda warned. “Yer face is pale enough.”

  Crystal dropped it back in the box and rustled through the other contents. “There’s rouge, lip pomade, and drops for eyes. The duchess has thought of everything,” she said.

  What an unaccustomed pleasure to visit a place where coin was not in short supply. She’d investigate all the items when Hilda wasn’t around to scold.

  “Be careful, my lady. Too much makeup and the gentleman will think badly of you,” Hilda warned as she undid the tiny buttons on the back of Crystal’s gown and helped her out of it.

  “I won’t be using makeup like a whore,” Crystal assured her, closing the box. After her maid had helped her out of her dress, stays, and chemise, she placed the waxed paper cone on her head, tucking her curls underneath.

  Hilda blinked. “At the moment, you’re looking more the dunce.”

  Crystal looked at herself in the mirror and laughed at her comical reflection. “Aye, a dunce to accept Lord Lyle’s invitation and not know his intentions…though I can rightly guess. But he won’t be getting me alone, I assure you. Come, work the pump, and I’ll try this shower bath.”

  She stepped into the tub, finding the water already cooling. The late-afternoon temperature had become crisp. Hilda pumped, and water rained down upon Crystal’s head as she soaped herself all over.

  She shivered. “A grand idea, but by the time the water goes up
the metal pipe and out the top, it’s cold.”

  Bubbles of soap pooled in the water and were sucked up the pipes again.

  “I wish I’d thought to ask the footmen to leave the jug of water so I could rinse you properly,” Hilda said.

  “Enough of the pump, Hilda. I’m freezing. Pass me a towel. I wish to get out before this cone falls off my head.” The maid held up a linen towel, and she stepped out of the tub. “Brrr. I dinnae think that shower bath will catch on.”

  An hour later, she was dressed in a soft-pink silk gown with a low square neckline and long gloves, with her hair curled into ringlets and pinned around her face. She walked over to the bed, swiped up the long-stemmed rose, and snipped off most of the stalk with a pair of petite silver manicure scissors.

  “What are you doing, my lady?” Hilda asked in astonishment.

  “My hair needs decoration. I’m putting this beautiful rose to good use rather than allowing it to wilt on the pillow.” She picked up some hairpins from the dresser, tucked the stem into her elaborate style, and pinned it into place.

  “Careful, my lady, or you’ll fire up the gentleman like a red rag to a turkey-cock.”

  “We dinnae ken if Lord Lyle placed the rose on my pillow.” She reached up and touched it gently. “But I mean to find out.”

  Chapter Seven

  Aaron strode over and bowed the moment the footman announced Lady Crystal at the entrance to the drawing room. In the fading light, she had a wary look in her sea-green eyes, but he was pleased to see she had taken up the challenge of wearing his rose. His heart beat fast, and his loins tightened. “The rose in your hair is a very pretty touch, my lady.”

  “One should know the qualities of a rose before one considers touching it,” she said, raising one eyebrow. “Some have thorns, you know.” She smiled.

  Ah. It was a challenge she wanted. A pursuit. Well, he was certainly up to taming her.

  “And here I was thinking you’d left your thorns in Edinburgh.”