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

by Cathleen Ross

She shrugged off his arms, picked up the china cup, and drank deeply. Her fingers were trembling, and she looked down at her lap. Finally, she glanced over at him. “I can’t see you alone for some time.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, stung.

  “I mean privately. Like this. Unattended.”

  She said the words as if he were a dolt or hard of hearing.

  “Then how will we—”

  “We can’t, for the moment,” she said.

  “Crystal, this will blow over. We can go to my father’s estate when he isn’t there. The servants won’t talk if they wish to keep their jobs.”

  “You have to understand, there is so much I wish to do in this city, so many women I want to help. There are ladies offering to be my benefactors and others to teach. I can make a real difference here.”

  “And you can still do that. You have my complete support,” he said, totally frustrated. “I’ll give you whatever you need.”

  She reached over and held his hand. “You have a place in my heart forever, and I don’t regret a minute of what we’ve done, but I can see, coming here, sharing your bed… If I’m discovered, I will be a social pariah.”

  “I can’t— I won’t give you up. You make me happy. With you, I can forget all about my duty. My home is happier with you in it,” he said, his voice raw with misery.

  She reached over and hugged him then, and he felt her lithe frame tremble in his arms. “I don’t want to give you up, either. It’ll just be for a short time, while the gutter press is watching.”

  “I need you in my life, Crystal. Everything you do or say is important, and I’m committed to getting to the bottom of the slavery issue you brought to my attention. These causes are important. I gave you my word I would do something about it. I’m expecting you in my office Monday morning with the girls. Bring Hilda so there is a chaperone.”

  This had started off as a game, a light amusement. How had things changed so much in a blink of an eye?

  She pulled out of his arms. “We will continue to do good work, but don’t fall in love with me, Aaron. You have to marry. You must appease the duke and do as he wishes.” Her lips wobbled as she spoke, and he knew it cost her.

  “What are you saying? That you’re giving me your blessing to marry someone else?” It was both a freedom and a brutal betrayal of the heart. He couldn’t get his head around it.

  She looked deeply into his eyes. “There is no other way forward, my darling. Not for us.”

  “What if you fall in love with me? What will you do when I’m forced to marry? I don’t want you to hate me when I’m married. Would you then be prepared to be my mistress?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Saturday after luncheon

  Crystal sat on her bed, pulled off her ballet slippers, and examined the bottoms. Ruined. The hem of her morning dress. Soiled. Her feet hurt from the humiliating walk home from the New Town. There was no way she would let Aaron order his carriage, nor would she allow herself be seen in his company.

  Instead, she’d pulled her bonnet low and, wearing her dark pelisse coat, left by the servant’s entry and marched home, hoping no one would recognize her or question as to why there was no maid in attendance.

  She knew Aaron had regard for her and that they could be together…but being a mistress? He’d fought for her. Offered to accompany her on her talks and insisted on respect while she spoke. He’d even punched a lord in the face for her.

  He was so heroic, tender, and kind, and she’d wanted him. And the bedding—it had been more than she’d ever imagined. She knew she would yearn for him every night. Yet Aaron had to marry, and somehow she had to accept that, and—if she could bear it—play the role of a mistress.

  Oh, no, no, no, no, no.

  Just the thought of it diced her heart into little pieces. She wanted to curl up in a ball and sob, but she was a Wilding, and that was not how things were done. She climbed off her bed and rang the bell for Hilda.

  “My lady?” Hilda asked as soon as she appeared at Crystal’s bedroom door. The maid didn’t say anything about Crystal spending the night with Aaron, and for that she was grateful.

  “Could you get out my plain muslin gown, the one with the high neck and long sleeves? I need to change my gown and slippers.” After that dreadful broadsheet article, she wanted to hide herself away, but she couldn’t.

  “Yes, my lady.” Hilda went out and returned with the correct dress, laying it on the bed, and proceeded to help her out of her soiled morning gown.

  “My lady? This looks like you have mucked out a stable,” Hilda said, aghast, studying the hem.

  “I walked home. My new kid slippers are ruined. I’ll have to buy another set,” Crystal said, her chest tight with anguish. She picked up her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.

  Alarm filled her maid’s eyes. “You seem so unhappy, my lady. Are you hurt?”

  “No. We didn’t—” She stopped. She couldn’t talk to Hilda, not about being in Aaron’s bed. She wouldn’t approve. So, Crystal changed the subject. “I need new linen, too. Everything seems rather crumpled.” Including her spirit.

  Hilda opened the chest of drawers, pulled out fresh petticoats and a shift, then proceeded to help her undress.

  She would never admit it to anyone, but Will’s words—and Aaron’s agreement—that she wouldn’t be suitable hurt like the dickens, which was ridiculous because she truly didn’t want to marry. Yet she couldn’t give Aaron up, either, even though it was the sensible thing to do. The more she saw him, the more their lives and hearts became enmeshed. The way his eyes lit up when he saw her. The way he’d stroked and touched her. Even miserable, her treacherous body yearned for his touch.

  Hilda’s mouth pinched tightly as she helped her into her new linen. “You’re dealing with an experienced lord, and you’re but a young lassie who thinks she knows more than she does about matters of the heart.”

  “I’ve never had feelings for a man before, and I fear I like Lord Aaron more than I should.”

  Being in his bed had changed things, deepened their relationship, taken it to another level, but she was also learning, too, that matters of the heart were not so simple.

  “That lord is not for you. He is from the greatest house in Scotland, and his father, the duke, has plans for him,” Hilda said in her matter-of-fact manner. “And they don’t include you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Monday

  After class, Crystal sat with Ailish and Jenny in Aaron’s office as they told their story about slavery—of how people from the village disappeared when the ship docked and no one had heard from them since. If anyone could help the girls, it was him.

  Aaron frowned as he listened, taking detailed notes. “I’ll have the constable at Inverness go to the Isle of Sky to bring the MacLeod chief to me for questioning. Unfortunately, Miss MacLeod, it’s not the first time a MacLeod chief has sold his kin into slavery, though I thought it had ended last century.”

  “Malcolm McLeod got away with this before because the king needed his support in the last insurrection, but this chief will not get away with selling his people again,” Crystal explained to Jenny and Ailish. “Lord Lyle will stop it.”

  “I’m so grateful for your help,” Jenny said, clutching her hands together, her knuckles white, almost crying in gratitude.

  “Do you think something could be done to rescue Jenny’s mother and sisters?” Crystal asked Aaron. “God knows what will happen to them if they are sold into slavery in the Americas.”

  He stared back at her, the deep blue of his eyes compelling in his serious face. Her heart did a little flip. She knew what it was to be in his arms. The way he cared about people, the way he jumped to action, was making her in danger of losing her heart.

  “I need to find out the name of the ship and its whereabouts before I can make any promises
. It’s a very serious allegation, and it will take time to investigate. Miss MacLeod, I will do all in my power to help you.”

  Jenny burst into tears, flew over to Aaron, and knelt at his feet, kissing his hands. “Oh, to see my mother and my sisters.”

  “Miss MacLeod, there is no need for that,” Aaron said, taking her hand and raising her to her feet.

  “But how could something as scandalous as the white slave trade happen in this day and age?” Crystal asked, wiping a tear from her own eyes at the sight of Jenny’s desperation.

  Aaron stood, walked to his office door, ushering Jenny before him, and opened it. “It’s the Highlands, my lady. The people are known to be wild and resistant to doing what they’re told, even the women.” This time, he had a twinkle in his eyes, and she knew he wasn’t talking about slavery.

  “I’m sure the Highland women aren’t as bad as you think,” she said, knowing he was teasing her.

  “They are,” Ailish said, standing, too. “I’ve naught seen such wildness, both from men and women. I’m glad to live in the Lowlands now.”

  Aaron bit back a grin.

  “Thank you, Ailish. It’s time to return to the mill. We’ve taken enough of Lord Lyle’s time,” Crystal said, standing.

  Jenny curtsied and thanked Aaron profusely too. Aaron ushered the girls out into his antechamber. “Please wait here while I have a word with Lady Crystal.” He closed the door. A deep frown creased his forehead. “I want you to know I went to the broadsheet office earlier this morning and demanded an apology for that disgraceful article.”

  “What did the editor say?” Crystal asked.

  “He agreed. The man was trembling, white with nerves. There will be an apology in the paper tomorrow morning.”

  “That was easily gained. I had no idea you were so fearsome.”

  “It wasn’t because of me. It seems the dowager duchess had been there just before me, insisting on the same thing. I believe she berated the editor, telling him I was your benefactor and that he was ruining not only your good name but the name of your father before you, who is a national hero.”

  “Oh my goodness. She really is formidable.” Crystal pulled at her lower lip for a moment, considering his words. “Why is the Dowager Duchess Sarah interfering in your business?”

  “She likes you. Thinks you’re from a sturdy Highland breed. According to her, you’re perfect for the family, rather than a weak, biddable wife who would produce a ‘welp.’”

  “Now I really do feel like a breeding mare.” She pursed her lips and shook her head, wondering at this family that was so concerned with poor Aaron’s choice of a wife.

  “When can I see you again?” He had a tender look in his eyes, and her heart gave a stutter. This man was so likeable.

  “I have speaking and teaching engagements all this week and into the next. I’ll come next Friday.”

  “Next Friday? That seems an age,” he protested.

  “Hopefully, the public interest in us will have died down by then with the apology. I cannae been seen with you.”

  “I know.” His face was racked with misery. “I shall miss you terribly—your company, your laughter, and holding you close.”

  “Aaron, we discussed this. Arrange for a carriage without the Lomond arms at ten. I shall wear black.”

  “You’ll be truly mine?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said quietly. “I will be yours.”

  He clutched her hands. “I want you to know, no matter what happens between us, even if you grow to hate me, I will do everything in my power to help Jenny.”

  She stood on tiptoes and pressed her lips against his. “I know. You’re a good man. You make me care for you—more than I should. Why would I ever hate you?”

  “Because one day I will be a husband, and I fear that will change everything.”

  She swallowed. “I know.” With that, she stepped back and pulled the door open. “Let’s go, girls,” she said, taking her leave of Aaron.

  When they left the building, she noticed her maid’s narrow stare of disapproval. “Have you girls told Hilda how kind Lord Lyle has been?”

  Hilda put one arm around each of the girls’ shoulders. “Indeed. Such a good lord, a kind lord, doing all of this for the benefit of you young lassies,” she said, her voice laced with sarcasm.

  “I’m so happy,” Jenny said, missing the tone in Hilda’s voice.

  “I’m happy for you, Jenny.” Ailish moved away from Hilda and took Jenny’s arm, walking on ahead of them.

  “You’re paying a high price for a lass you barely know,” Hilda said as they walked up the road toward the mill.

  “It isn’t what you think, Hilda. These girls have no one. Lord Lyle helps me because he’s a good man.”

  “Hmph!” Hilda said, stomping up the road.

  “Don’t ‘hmph’ me. Look how happy Lord Lyle has made Jenny,” Crystal said, glancing at the girls, who were strolling, their arms linked, their voices gay, their laughter tinkling around them like bells. “I’d give anything to see my mother again,” she said passionately, “and now, thanks to Lord Lyle, Jenny has a chance. I don’t call that ‘paying a high price.’”

  “Perhaps you’re right, my lady. You’re known for your kindness,” Hilda said.

  “Lord Lyle has a big heart, too,” Crystal insisted, not wanting to take all the credit.

  “I’ve lived longer than you. That lord will take your maidenhead and go and marry another without a care for breaking your heart,” Hilda said, her voice rich with anger. “I cannae bear to see it.”

  “Lyle has to marry the duke’s choice of wife. But you’re wrong about him. You don’t know him the way I do. Being forced to marry someone he doesn’t care for will not break my heart, but it will break his.”

  Hilda’s face turned puce, and she lost her temper. “How can you say that? You are the one who will lose out. What about having your own husband and bairns? Your mother was my kin and best friend. I swore an oath to her when she was dying that I would look after you, and I am failing her. She would turn in her grave if she knew what you were about, and your father with her. How can you keep such a cool head when Lord Lyle treats you with such disrespect?”

  The force of Hilda’s anger was a knife to the heart, but she stood her ground. “I want Lord Lyle with all my being, but these girls are like my own. I won’t give up my work to marry. One day, Lord Lyle will have to, and I will need to decide whether I can stomach becoming his mistress.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Friday

  Aaron jumped to his feet the moment Laird Arthur MacLeod sauntered into his office in Parliament Hall, not because he had any intention of bowing to the miscreant but because he wanted to thump him, such was his fury. He signaled to his constable to stay, and Aaron composed himself.

  He left the list of names the constable had given him on his desk. Jenny MacLeod’s kin who hadn’t been taken and other inhabitants of Sky, many of them poor crofters who only spoke Gaelic, were only too happy to give information. “Sit, MacLeod. You have a lot to answer for,” he said. “Did you really think you could get away with selling his majesty’s subjects for profit?”

  MacLeod sat back, his feet stretched out in front of him. “Criminals all. Thieves and beggars, lewd women.”

  Aaron put his hands on the sides of MacLeod’s chair and bent over him, inches from his face. “Not one has been convicted of a transportable offence. Aye, MacLeod, I have a list here of the people you’ve kidnapped. Fifty of them. One of the children is ten years old, another twelve. What crime could they possibly have committed?”

  “Do you expect me to look after the useless poor?” MacLeod snapped.

  “You dinnae deserve to be a laird,” Aaron roared.

  MacLeod’s head jerked back.

  Stepping backward, Aaron sucked in a deep breath
as he thought of Jenny’s pleas for her family and Crystal’s tears. This was personal. It sickened him that he was being forced into marriage, yet these desperate, innocent, poor people made his problems seem insignificant. He had to save them. “Not one of the people on this list is guilty of anything. I had the constable check with the magistrate.”

  MacLeod blanched, pushing himself back into his chair. “What do you want from me?”

  “The name of the ship, the captain, and where he is heading.” It didn’t matter that the government had officially abolished the slave trade; there were still many who profited illegally from the misery of others.

  “And if I give you this information, will you let me go?” MacLeod asked, his voice shaking like a trapped rat.

  “I’ll inform the magistrate you cooperated so you do not hang.” But Aaron would do everything in his power to have this evil man transported when he’d finished questioning him, so he, too, became a slave until he’d served out his time.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Friday evening. A week later.

  When the carriage pulled up at the back of Aaron’s house, she saw him run out onto the road to greet her like a man possessed. He wrenched the carriage door open and lifted her so that her feet didn’t touch the ground. “I cannae believe you’re finally in my arms. I’ve thought of nothing else all week.”

  “Quietly, my lord,” she whispered in his ear, and he put her down, aware of the driver.

  He paid the driver and sent him on his way.

  “I cannae bear not seeing you. Eleven days was too long,” he complained, ushering her inside. “Never do that to me again.”

  “I fended off accusations about you all last week, but I think, thanks to the apology in the broadsheet and the most wonderful article on my father, who is to have his statue erected in Wilding Place tomorrow afternoon, we are safe for now.”

  “I cannae bear it that we have to live like this. Come.” He took her hand and led her upstairs to his bedroom, where a small fire burned in the grate and a bottle of Madeira and another of port stood open beside two glasses on a tray. Aaron filled one glass with the Madeira and passed it to her, pouring the port for himself. He gulped it down and poured another.