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

by Cathleen Ross

  “Have you no one to guide you, Lady Crystal?” the duchess asked, leaning forward and drawing the subject away from Lyle.

  Crystal said, “I lost my dear mother five years ago, and recently my father passed away from his war wounds.”

  “Is there no one to arrange your marriage?” the duke asked with shrewd, narrowed eyes.

  “Perhaps we should move on to something else,” his wife said gently.

  “I don’t wish to marry,” Crystal said to the duke. “I have other interests. Perhaps I will feel differently when I’m older,” she added to soften the shock she knew her words would bring. She couldn’t resist glancing over at Lord Lyle, feeling oddly exhilarated, knowing her suspicions were correct and she had derailed his ploy.

  Lord Lyle raised one eyebrow and looked at her with a penetrating gaze before taking a deep drink of his wine. “Unfortunately, Lady Crystal, we are not in agreement in this family on the subject of marriage. My father is all for marrying young.”

  “I sired you at five and twenty. A man in your position must have an heir,” the duke said, glaring at Lord Lyle, who glowered back.

  Her own father had thought to marry her to a cousin she despised, so she could sympathize. “A gentleman in Lord Lyle’s position should proceed with caution. A nobleman of means can be hunted like a carp in a pond by desperate mamas keen to snare the best catch for their daughters.”

  The duke put his hands on his stomach and laughed, making her glad she had diffused the tense mood. “You are quite the jester, Lady Crystal. Tell us about your people. I know of Earl Wilding and his bravery. I have told my sons what a great regard I had for the earl. He was one of the last strong and courageous Highland lords. His battalion of Highlanders was legendary. Now there’s a man who knew how to discipline.”

  “You’re right about that.” Crystal sneaked a peek at the Dowager Duchess of Lomond, but the woman didn’t meet her eyes. She was sure the duke knew all there was to be known about her father, but if it was true that her father had fallen drunk off his horse, the duke was too polite to mention it. “I have two older sisters: Lady Arbella, who is managing the estate, and Lady Lacey, who is thinking of starting a school.”

  “Are your sisters married?” the duke asked, clearly not easily deterred from the subject.

  “No, your grace. We are a family in mourning, and none of us are of a mind to seek a husband. In any case, I can’t marry before my sisters. I am the youngest.”

  “My dear, you are making the young people uncomfortable with all this talk of marriage.” The duchess turned to Crystal. “Lyle spoke so highly of you, I thought you’d known each other longer.” She smiled and returned to her bowl of soup.

  “Yes, let them enjoy their meal,” the dowager agreed.

  The duke bowed his head and attended to his soup, though Crystal suspected this would not be the last word on the matter.

  “Did you know the duchess has hired the best Scottish chef, who also trained in France?” Lord William commented, and his older brother shot him a look of gratitude.

  Crystal dipped her spoon into the delicate china soup bowl filled with rich broth. She could tell they had a fine chef. “This is excellent,” she said.

  “I am most proud of her grace.” The duke raised his glass to his wife. “She is the perfect hostess.”

  The duchess bloomed under his praise. “We grow a vast range of vegetables in the kitchen gardens and the hothouse. I’m also an avid flower grower. I look forward to showing you the gardens tomorrow.”

  “You’ll enjoy the exotic blooms in the hothouse,” Lord Lyle said with a bold grin. “I’m happy to point them out for you.”

  Somehow, Crystal didn’t think he gave a fig about flowers, exotic or otherwise.

  “Do you hunt, Lady Crystal?” he asked.

  “I’m a Wilding. I was raised on a horse. My father didn’t have sons, so when I was young, he treated me like one, teaching me to hunt, ride, to stalk prey and finish it with a dirk. I had some talent as an archer, until my father banned me because I was showing up the men.”

  Lord Lyle sat back and grinned. “Should I be afeared?”

  “Only if you annoy me in the hothouse,” she said before scooping up the last of her soup.

  The duke laughed and slapped his knee. “Spoken like a true Highland lass. Lyle wouldn’t dare step out of line with a lass like you.”

  “I imagine you have found someone far more biddable for him to marry,” she said sweetly. “I’m sure a man of your standing would want a quiet, sweet lady for Lord Lyle’s wife.”

  Lyle groaned. “Don’t encourage him.”

  “You sound rather wild,” the Dowager Duchess of Lomond said in her priggish voice. “Surely, your mother had some say in how you were raised? Do you play or sing? Any accomplishments to speak of?”

  “My mother insisted on me learning to play the piano and attending my lessons, but she had more success with my older sisters. I adored the outdoors. I’m very interested in herbal lore and spent long hours out collecting whatever I could find.” She brightened. “When it was winter, though, I loved listening to the bawdy ballads of my kinsmen in the great hall. Perhaps you’d like a song after dinner?” She fought to keep a straight face.

  Shock registered in the older lady’s eyes. She looked down her nose. “I should think not.”

  The duke laughed.

  “Tomorrow, I shall call you on those skills, Lady Crystal,” Lord Lyle said, his eyes alight with amusement.

  “The singing or riding?” she asked.

  “Hopefully both, weather permitting,” Lord William said. “Lyle and I love a good ballad.”

  “Aye, fair enough. I’ll admit I know some lovely ones, too,” she said, and even the Dowager Duchess of Lomond smiled, finally realizing Crystal had been teasing.

  The servants cleared the soup bowls away, then offered up steaming roast lamb, chicken, tatties, peas, beans and stuffed tomatoes, fruit tarts and jellies. While Lord William assisted her in choosing from the closest plates, she noticed the dowager duchess staring at her.

  “I’ve been thinking your name is familiar,” the Dowager Duchess of Lomond said. “Though I cannae recall why.”

  Crystal saw Lord Lyle catch his brother’s eye across the table and shake his head.

  She had no intention of shocking her hosts by mentioning her liberal views. Lord Lyle had asked her not to. She’d already shocked the duke by telling him she had no interest in marriage. Besides, her main interest was the need to educate women. It was important to build trust if she ever hoped to influence those who had the power to create change, as did this family. “I give talks on the role of women in society and the need for learning. I have been booked to speak at various private meetings and trade halls. Perhaps you have attended one?”

  “I think not. What kind of education do you propose for a woman?” the dowager asked as Lord Lyle helped her to a tiny piece of roast lamb and vegetables. She was a thin, stringy woman who apparently ate lightly.

  Crystal’s mind was whirring as everyone ate in companionable silence while the meal was hot. The cost of this dinner alone would educate many girls for a year. Such a waste! She picked at her meal despite its excellence. “Women need to know more than reading, sewing, and running a household. I believe all girls should have the same opportunities as boys. Nobles and commoners alike.”

  “But if commoners are educated, they will rise above their station and want power,” the Dowager Duchess of Lomond said, looking at her accusingly. She ate the little on her plate before putting her knife and fork together with a click on the china. “Remember what happened in France when the peasants and bourgeoisie arose.”

  Lord Lyle coughed and looked at Crystal, his eyes taking on an appreciative gaze before turning to his grandmother. “I think Lady Crystal is more concerned about the plight of many women. She does
not seek to educate for the purpose of a rising, your grace.”

  “Indeed not. I am concerned about women’s ability to find honest work when they cannae read or write,” Crystal said, nodding at him.

  “What do you have in mind, my lady?” Lord Lyle asked.

  “In Edinburgh, the parish schools find funding to educate boys, but girls, if they attend at all, are taught at a lower level.”

  “Why spend the money on educating them?” the duke asked. “Girls can marry at twelve. The dame schools teach reading, sewing, and cooking. What need have they for writing?”

  “We aren’t living in peaceful times. If women have no skills, how can they keep their families fed and sheltered in a time when so many men are injured and killed in the war?” she said.

  “A fair point,” Lord Lyle said, his voice respectful.

  His support warmed her heart, and she looked at him anew. Under his tall, strong build and dashing looks lay a good man.

  “We do have huge losses,” the duke conceded, finishing his meal and sitting back, his hands resting on his stomach. “Thirty thousand men dead at last count.”

  “The Dowager Duchess Sarah and I do a lot of charity work for the widows of fallen soldiers, but so many are affected. There is never enough to go around,” the duchess said with a frown.

  “Indeed there isn’t,” the dowager said. “I like the idea of educating women to read and write. It’s a disgrace many cannot even sign their name in the church register when they marry.”

  Crystal looked around the table, realizing Lord Lyle’s family was hanging on her every word. He smiled at her encouragingly, and something passed between them.

  “I realize educating the young will not help women today,” she said, “but we must look to the future. Sewing and washing bring in little money. Why must women and children be reduced to such poverty by society? They have already made a great sacrifice when their husbands fall fighting for this country.”

  “We have a large duchy. It would be possible to encourage our parish schools to teach girls and women to read and write. That would not entail much added expense,” Lord Lyle said. “If the duke gives the directive, of course.”

  She shot him a look of gratitude. There was genuine concern on his face. He was as thoughtful as he was kind. She found herself enjoying his company more and more.

  “This war has brought down too many brave men,” the duke agreed. “We have so many on the pension, which is little enough to provide for a family.”

  “Which means many women and children are suffering. You are a man with influence, your grace. Would you consider helping my cause to educate women? I am often invited to speak at guildhalls and private meetings, but your support would help considerably,” she said, thrilled to the core that he and Lord Lyle considered her views worthy.

  “I think it’s a good idea. I don’t like the poverty this war is causing our people. Let me think on it while I’m eating dessert,” the duke said. “The important thing to remember, Lady Crystal, is not to become involved with seditious groups when you are speaking. The government is quick to arrest those who speak against it.”

  “Rest assured, your grace, that is not my intention. My sole focus is to assist women out of poverty through education. Men are not used to the idea that women should be educated, too, which is why I go out and speak on the subject,” she said.

  The duchess nodded to the servants, who cleared away the plates and brought in platters with a selection of biscuits, nuts, cheese, and molded jellies. The footmen served sweet wines for the ladies and port for the men.

  Lord William offered a platter to her, but Crystal had lost her appetite. Too much was resting on the duke’s answer. She could give endless speeches to the working class, but persuading a man with power like the duke to support the education of women and having Lord Lyle in agreement would make all the difference. She watched on tenterhooks as the duke took a biscuit, waiting for his answer.

  “You should try one of these, Lady Crystal. They are filled with a nut all the way from America. My chef was very proud to have sourced something new. It’s called a peanut. I’m told it’s excellent, though I’ve yet to try one myself.” He bit into it, munching contentedly. When he finished, he opened his mouth to speak, but the Dowager Duchess of Lomond suddenly stood and pointed at her.

  “I know who you are! You are the woman who insists that women feel desire like a man.”

  Chapter Eight

  Aaron looked at his grandmother, aghast. How had she worked it out so fast? She hadn’t been at Lady Crystal’s talk, though she had just returned from Edinburgh yesterday. Then he remembered the older lady with the fan, Lady Hamilton, sitting in the front seat of Sir Walter Scott’s salon. He knew she was a friend of his grandmother.

  “Desire?” asked his father, scowling at the dowager. “What the devil are you talking about? Why are you raising such a lewd subject at my table in front of Lady Crystal? Do you mean to shock her away? Is it not enough you were rude to one of the suitable lassies I had in mind for Lyle? You told her there was madness in the family.”

  “There is madness in that family,” the Dowager Duchess said.

  “I had to deeply apologize to her father, a rather fractious lord. It was very embarrassing. And what you said to Lady Prunella was unforgiveable.” He took a savage bite of his biscuit, munched on it, sucked in a deep breath, and began coughing.

  The dowager opened her mouth to speak, clearly thought better of it, and closed her lips.

  Lomond emitted a great rattling sound that seemed to emanate from his throat, and his eyes widened.

  “Do you need assistance, dear?” the duchess asked, her voice high with alarm, a frown creasing her brow as he continued to cough.

  “I…can’t…breathe,” his father said, his voice hoarse between coughing fits.

  Aaron poured a glass of wine to clear his father’s throat, leaped to his feet, and offered it to his father, but it was too late. His father abruptly stood and leaned on the table for support as he wheezed, his chest heaving in and out, his eyes bulging in desperation.

  “Here, Lomond,” Aaron brought the glass to his father’s lips. The duke took it, but it tumbled from his fingers as he clutched his throat.

  “My dear, what is it?” the duchess asked, her voice shrill. “What’s the matter?” She rose from her chair as Lomond’s facial color grew mottled, a strangled breath coming from him.

  “What the devil is happening? Your lips are swelling.” Was it poison? Aaron grabbed his father by the shoulders, looking him full in the face, but the duke’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed against him. Aaron wrapped his arms around his father’s torso, lowering him onto the carpet.

  A rasping sound emitted from the duke’s chest.

  “He’s obviously choking,” Lady Crystal cried. She jumped out of her seat and joined him on the floor. “Turn him on his side, my lord,” she said, her voice authoritative. “I know what to do.”

  Aaron did as she asked, instinctively trusting her. She checked inside Lomond’s mouth, then began thumping his father on his back with her small fist. Her actions were instantly effective. The duke’s whole body slumped as a peanut dislodged from his windpipe and rolled onto the carpet. A moment later, he gasped down a huge breath.

  “Thank you,” Aaron muttered, grateful for her intervention, angry at himself for not thinking quicker. His father’s strange mottled color and swelling lips had led him to a different conclusion.

  Lomond took in another large, shuddering gulp of air.

  “That’s it,” he said, rubbing his father’s back, “take deep breaths.” The color started to return to his father’s cheeks.

  Lady Crystal studied his father and looked back at him, a puzzled expression on her face. “His grace’s mouth is swollen. I fear it is more than a trapped nut.”

  The duke
struggled to rise.

  “Let me assist you, sir.” Aaron helped his father to a sitting position, allowing the duke to rest his back against his torso, loosely wrapping his arms around him to hold him in place.

  Lady Crystal leaped up from the floor, grabbed a napkin, wet it, and knelt in front of the duke, speaking to him with a reassuring voice, dabbing at the perspiration on his father’s brow. There was a gentleness he hadn’t noticed in her before, and she exuded a quiet calm. How grateful he was to have her by his side.

  He could see the duchess crying in the background and horror gripping the grim-faced dowager as they looked on. His brother ordered a servant to call for the duke’s valet, who had been with Lomond over thirty years and would watch him with hawklike vigilance. The nearest physician was in Edinburgh, and there was no fetching him in the dark.

  “The duke’s breath is returning,” she said to Aaron, “but I dinnae like the swelling of his tongue and lips.”

  “Is it poison?” Aaron asked under his breath, holding his hand over his father’s heart, relieved that, although it beat quickly, the rhythm was strong.

  “We need an apothecary to ascertain that,” Lady Crystal said, a worried frown creasing her brow. “I haven’t seen this before.”

  He’d be damned if he could think of anyone who would want to harm his father. Lomond had assisted so many. He was far more loved than hated.

  “We will look after you and see you right, your grace,” Lady Crystal said to his father. “I’m going to loosen your cravat and open your shirt so you can breathe better.” She untied his father’s cravat, throwing it onto the carpet, and nimbly undid the top of his shirt buttons.

  “You’re very good in an emergency, Lady Crystal,” Aaron said, gratitude swelling his heart. She was a damned fine woman, quick-thinking and fast on her feet.

  “Thank you. I’ve tended my wounded kin, and I learned what I could from the castle physic,” she said.

  “You’re full of surprises,” he said. She wasn’t like any lady he’d ever met, with her bold ideas and manlike capability.