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

by Cathleen Ross

  “It’s just that… Will the lord always be here?” the girl asked. “Jenny is afeard of lords.”

  “Lord Lyle is my benefactor, so I can hardly order him from the classroom if he wishes to visit.” What was going on with this girl? Crystal’s curiosity got the better of her. “Why would Jenny be afeard of Lord Lyle?”

  “It isn’t him that’s done anything, but a lord stole Jenny’s mother and sisters. She desperately needs to learn to read and write proper so she can ask for help. No one will listen to her or her father.”

  Shock made Crystal’s mind spin. “A lord stole Jenny’s mother and sisters?” she repeated to make sure she’d heard Ailish correctly. “But what did he do with them?”

  “He sold them as slaves, my lady.”

  “But there are no white slaves. That doesn’t exist,” Crystal protested. “Our government would never allow it.” The whole thing was absurd. She’d never heard the like. Sometimes the working class was so ignorant they would believe anything they were told.

  “Can I bring Jenny to see you tomorrow, my lady? Perhaps the story is better coming from her.”

  “Yes, I need to hear this for myself.” Crystal motioned for Hilda to join her and waved good-bye to the girls who were standing in the courtyard speaking enthusiastically with a group of women.

  One of the women hurried over to Crystal, long-faced and lean but tidy in her appearance. “Mistress, I wish to thank you for teaching my Ailish her letters. I’ve no learning myself and cannae afford to live without her labor. My husband passed in the war.”

  The woman’s gratitude warmed Crystal’s heart, though privately she wondered whether Ailish had issues with telling the truth. Still, she couldn’t afford to be judgmental if she was going to do this work. “I’m happy I can help. I’ve been in Edinburgh but three months and am still learning how I can best contribute.”

  “I heard you speak at the weavers’ guild earlier this week,” the woman said, straightening proudly. “I’m so pleased you are speaking up for women’s rights.”

  “Things need to change, which is why I take every opportunity to speak. Until women can own property and gain an education, we will always be under the rule of men.”

  “Aye. I didnae think education was possible for the likes of us until I heard you speak earlier in the week. I want more for my Ailish than I have.” The woman looked over at her daughter with warmth in her eyes.

  Crystal nodded. “I pledge to teach these girls to read and write, and Lord Lyle has agreed to pay their wages while I do. My goal is to find a way for more women to be educated in order to have a greater choice of work.”

  “I have friends I’m sure would like to meet with you,” Ailish’s mother said. “We will get together on Friday night. So much needs to be done, but without reading and writing, we women have little say. We must rely on the men to speak for us.” The woman named an alehouse not far from where Crystal lived. “Please come meet with us.”

  “It would be my pleasure,” Crystal said. Now she had her own freedom, she would never allow men to speak for her again. These women deserved no less.

  “I’ll be looking forward to not going out tonight,” Hilda complained as she walked up the cobbled road, hitching her skirt with distaste at the dung on the street. “You’ve had too many speaking engagements of late.”

  Crystal wrinkled her nose at the stench. “I need to make as many contacts in the city as I can, both rich and poor, and listen to what they all have to say. I mean to make a difference.”

  “I understand you, but my poor feet dinnae,” Hilda grumbled as they wove their way through the wynds toward the high street.

  Crystal cast a glance at her maid. Even at fifty years, she rarely complained, but Crystal couldn’t help but notice she had dark circles under her eyes.

  Crystal pulled Aaron’s letter from her pocket, unable to resist glancing at the inscription on the envelope, wondering what scandalous things he had written to her.

  The man was fire to her wick, and so much trouble.

  And she was falling headlong into it.

  She turned to Hilda. “I willnae have need of you tonight. I have been invited to speak again at Sir Walter’s salon. He will send his carriage to pick me up.”

  “That is kind of Sir Walter. Wait a minute.” Hilda stopped next to her, eyeing her with suspicion. “Why does the seal on that letter have the Lomond coat of arms?”

  Crystal shoved the letter back into her pocket. “It is from Lord Lyle.”

  Her maid walked beside her grim-faced. “That lord does not have marriage on his mind.”

  “Which is why I like him,” Crystal said.

  “You’ll be ruined,” Hilda said bluntly.

  “I have already spoken publicly about desire with no ill effect to my reputation. I’ve been asked to speak again.”

  “You don’t know whether your reputation has been affected or not. Do you really think the Duke of Lomond will receive you again when he hears about it?” Hilda asked.

  “I’ve made one mistake. I dinnae intend to do anything more to risk my good name.”

  “You can get away with the speeches because you come from an established noble family. Mark my words, if you go unaccompanied with Lord Lyle and act the courtesan, the doors that have been open will soon shut firmly in your face.”

  Crystal couldn’t very well chastise her maid, who instinctively knew too much even though Crystal had told her naught. “I hope one day you’ll believe me when I say I’m not looking for a husband.”

  “You’re young, and your ideas may change. Making the wrong decision now will ruin your reputation and affect your whole life,” Hilda warned. “I love you like my own child. Will you listen to me? Dinnae spend time alone with that man.”

  “Hilda, I dinnae wish to speak of this anymore.”

  And yet, she was so attracted to Aaron, so interested in spending time alone with him. But she needed to keep her head. Hilda was right, even if she didn’t want to hear it. She had everything to lose. She needed to carefully guard her reputation. Not for the sake of finding a husband but because of her noble cause.

  Chapter Twelve

  Alone in her bedroom, Crystal took out the letter from Lord Lyle. She’d never had a gentleman write a passionate letter to her before—her father would have whipped her for encouraging such bold behavior.

  The older she became, the more difficult it was for her to contain the fire within. She’d not missed the way men perused the maids in the castle at home, though her father had made it clear that such foolishness would always end in a handfasting. While he and his men enjoyed the drink, he wouldn’t abide bastards.

  Once, she’d come across a couple rutting like beasts in a barely used corridor after a great feast. Flames from a sconce had lit up the scene, igniting something in her, and she couldn’t lose the image from her mind.

  A lady staying at the castle was rutting a lord—not her husband. She’d taken the lord’s swollen cock in her mouth and had licked and sucked it as if it were a delicious bone. The man had moaned and thrown his head back with pleasure. Then she watched as he placed the lady on her back and licked her until her cunny was bright pink. Nothing had disgusted Crystal. Instead she watched, stroking and rubbing herself, wanting to experience, needing the pleasure she knew the others were feeling.

  The fire in Crystal had remained long after the guests had left.

  Crystal had no way of easing her desire. She needed to see if the sweet moans and groans of ecstasy she had witnessed could be possible for her with Aaron.

  She opened the letter, the parchment stiff and expensive, and began to read.

  My dearest Crystal,

  You are always in my thoughts. Your beauty, the burning intelligence in your eyes, your soft lips that I long to kiss. I need you. I can’t sleep at night for wanting you. I long to take you
in my arms and have you to myself. Though you refuse to have me by your side at every talk, know that by a simple word or message I will protect you from those who do not share your worthy ideals.

  You will be greatly amused to know your talk caused such consternation at Sir Walter’s. His companions who were not there have insisted you return so they may hear you speak. You should have already received the invitation.

  I take great pride in watching you blossom and achieve lofty heights. You take me with you mentally and spiritually to places I have not sought but find so satisfying.

  Tonight, when Sir Walter’s coachman and maid escort you home, I will wait at the entrance to the close to bring you to my abode. But rest assured, I hold you in the highest regard, and if your wish is to take things slow, then that is how we will proceed.

  I can think of naught else but having you with me, away from prying eyes.

  Aaron

  Chapter Thirteen

  Thursday evening

  Aaron stood in Sir Walter Scott’s salon. It was packed to capacity with the elite of Edinburgh’s gentry, minus the troublemakers. At least his grandmother, the Dowager Duchess Sarah, wasn’t there. His brother and several of his friends sat among the mixed audience and could be relied on to prevent any ugliness that might threaten to arise. Sir Walter had also placed two tall, well-formed footmen on either side of the salon doors.

  Sir Walter remained at the head of the room with Crystal by his side, looking rather pleased with himself. He had confided in Aaron that after Lady Crystal’s speech, his salon had become famous throughout the city.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight I seek to keep your minds awake and your desires asleep. Many of you have heard of our speaker, Lady Crystal Wilding, and her radical views on the rights of women. Tonight, I hope you will welcome her thoughts into your hearts and minds.” He gave an elaborate flourish of his hand for Crystal to proceed.

  Crystal stepped forward to speak, and Aaron’s heart beat faster. He was so proud of her, of the way she stood with her head held high, so sure of her right to be there and in what she had to say, despite its controversial nature. She wore an elegant emerald-green gown, the bodice molded around her bustline with a gold leaf motif decorating the edges of the fabric. Her skin was luminous, her gaze sharp with intellect, totally focused on the audience. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  “Many of you here had little to say about who you wed, yet marriage was surely one of the most important events of your lives.” She stopped and looked around the room.

  “Indeed,” said Lady Hamilton, casting a sideward glance at her husband. At least she wasn’t a troublemaker like his grandmother, apart from the fan throwing.

  There was a murmur of agreement from the audience, who sat with an air of expectation about them.

  “I believe it is time this changed. Instead of arranged marriages, I think the young should be allowed to meet and get to know their potential partners over a longer period of time.”

  “How is that any different from the assembly dances or doing a season?” asked a lady sitting near the front.

  “I believe men do not reveal their true character when they are so closely chaperoned. Well-heeled ladies collect proposals as if they are sugar candy, then their parents decide on the match. I would urge that marriages should not be arranged and that men and women should be allowed to spend time with each other without a chaperone, if they both wish to do so.”

  A rumble of horror echoed across the chamber.

  “If a woman meets a man without a chaperone, she instantly loses her reputation,” Crystal argued. “But it takes time for people to get to know each other. Adults should be able to meet without the constant need for a chaperone to watch their every move. Society treats women as if they are delicate flowers only allowed to bloom when the sun shines. But the truth is, women are intelligent and strong. Young women need to understand what the contract of marriage means before they enter into it. Many would not marry if they knew they could end up prisoners in their own homes.”

  The room was alive with nods of amusement and moans of agreement from some of the ladies in the audience, clearly much to the disgust of some of the gentlemen.

  A well-dressed elderly gentleman rose from his chair, his face flushed.

  “Your question, Lord Hartford?” Sir Walter Scott said.

  “I have no question, but a comment. Lady Crystal, you speak as if men are beasts,” Lord Hartford said, his voice big and booming, as was, clearly, his anger.

  Aaron’s body tensed, and he glanced at Will, who stood close to the man.

  “Open the door,” cried a voice from outside the salon, accompanied by a thumping sound so loud the door trembled.

  Aaron frowned. The salon was bursting at the seams. Every chair was taken, and people stood all around the sides of the room. Who was this rude person with the manners of an ill-bred fool, expecting to be let in at the last minute?

  There was another thump on the door, and Aaron wondered if the wood would splinter.

  “Tell whoever it is that we are full,” Sir Walter commanded, “before they break down my door.”

  The audience chuckled at that.

  One of the footmen opened the salon door.

  In sailed the Dowager Duchess of Lomond, who brushed the footman’s protests aside. “Lord Hartford, you are as loud as you are tall. I have it on good authority from Lady Hartford that you are most certainly a beast, but she doesn’t complain. Now sit down and let the lassie speak, for we’ve all come to hear her, not you.”

  Lord Hartford’s face turned a shocking shade of pink, and he sank into his seat while the audience roared with laughter.

  Aaron groaned. If ever there was going to be trouble tonight, it had just arrived in the form of his grandmother. He shot Crystal a glance. She closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head.

  He went to find the dowager a seat, but she waved him off and headed straight to the head of the salon, stopping in front of an occupied chair. She glared at the occupant, a young dandy. The man moved with alacrity, and the dowager took his seat. “Proceed,” she ordered Crystal with a wave of her hand. “I’ve come to hear your speech on women’s desire. Perhaps it will explain my grandson’s interest in you.”

  Aaron let out a groan, though he tried to suppress the sound.

  Crystal didn’t flinch at his grandmother’s rude comment. Instead she stared straight at the audience. “Perhaps I should explain before I continue with my talk that Lord Lyle is generously sponsoring me in my charitable work with young girls employed at a weaving mill, covering their wages while I teach them to read and write. They would have no hope of any learning other than their craft if not for Lord Lyle’s kindness. In time, I hope to expand my teaching to other young women, so in the future I will need more sponsors and volunteers to assist me.”

  Many women in the audience clapped at this, and Aaron sensed she had the women on her side.

  “Now to the subject of desire.” Crystal nodded at his grandmother. “When I spoke last week, I realized that the men in the audience thought I was encouraging promiscuity. I’m not. I simply think in marriage, love is important. We women love strongly and passionately—think what lionesses women become when protecting their young. But we need to be very, very sure in our choice of partner because, unlike men, with one careless decision, we women stand to lose everything.”

  Most of the women in the audience stood and clapped, the sound of their fervor deafening.

  “Hear, hear,” called out a lady. “Well said.”

  Some men sat stonily in their seats, frowning their discontent, but for Aaron, her words made sense. It would require time for some men to take it in.

  He stepped forward clapping, too, as did Sir Walter, Will, and Aaron’s friends. To his shock, his grandmother was standing, too, applauding and nodding at Crystal.


  Aaron could hardly believe his eyes.

  After her talk was finished, many of the women crowded around her, some offering to teach the poor, others simply wanting to tell their stories and meet her.

  The pride he’d felt for her intensified when he realized that Crystal had managed to do the almost impossible—she had found herself a female champion in the dowager duchess. His grandmother could open every door in Scotland for her, and many in England.

  His admiration for Crystal swelled his heart. He wanted her. In so many ways.

  And for the first time in his life, the stray thought went through his mind that marriage might not be so bad…if he could spend it with a wonderful companion like her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Thursday evening

  Crystal was late for her assignation with Aaron.

  She probably should have called it off after the Dowager Duchess of Lomond’s intrusive announcement of his interest in her, but every ounce of Crystal’s body stirred with excitement. She wanted to have him all to herself.

  She thanked Sir Walter and Lady Scott for the generous loan of their coach and climbed in, glad that Aaron had taken his leave long before her, accompanying his grandmother home.

  When the Scotts’ coach stopped at Wilding Close, she alighted with alacrity, assuring Sir Walter’s coachman and maid that she could make her way down the flight of stairs to her townhome. But of course they insisted on escorting her all the way to her door.

  In the distance, the town clock struck ten. Had Aaron given up on her? It had taken quite some time to meet and talk to the many ladies who had handed her their calling cards after her talk, requesting she call on them so they could hear more of her ideas. Thankfully, no gentlemen had stormed from the salon this time, and some had even inquired about sponsoring her teaching of the women. Another had wanted to discuss the terrible treatment of his sister, who had married a scoundrel.