“Surely you have no worries of that nature regarding Lord Aylesbury,” Moira argued, refusing to cast Vin and her fears as a reason to allow the marquis to court her.
Eve sighed heavily knowing she had no reasonable argument against Aylesbury and gave a shake of her head to her sister when Kitty, having not yet met the gentleman in question, raised a questioning brow.
Lord Harrison Brudenall was a good man. He was in fact, nearly perfect. He was titled and wealthy, handsome and cultured. Well-liked and much sought after by all London’s ton. He was, literally, everything a woman might want in a man. He was clearly taken enough by Moira to follow her up to Edinburgh after courting her briefly over the previous summer and Little Season.
“Do you think I should turn him down?” Moira persisted.
“Has he asked?” Kitty cut in with raised brows.
“No, not yet.”
“We just want you to take some time to be certain,” Eve begged. “I want it all to be perfect for you. Do you love Lord Aylesbury?”
“I…” Moira hesitated but knew that she could not so directly lie to these women who were her cherished friends. “I like him, Evie, very much. He is the dearest man and a wonderful friend.”
“Friendship is important,” Kitty allowed, knowing that she’d found the same with Jack Merrill before falling in love with him, but added gently, “but love is more important.”
Moira looked away. “I can’t, Kitty, you know that.”
“And that is why we think you should wait and see what happens when Vin returns,” Eve reasoned.
“How long? How long should I hold out for something that is never going to happen?” Moira asked sharply, feeling the fear and desperation catch in her throat. “My life is passing me by while I wait,” she choked against the emotion. “I waited for Vincent faithfully after he joined the Queen’s guards. Wrote him obsessively and he wrote me back often enough I thought things had changed. I waited almost five years for him to do something and what did he do? He practically engaged himself to Geena Campbell before I even had a chance with him! He thought me nothing but a friend! That’s what he told me on that last visit, I was such a dear friend! I had forgotten that all these years we thought him dead remembering only that I loved him, but he never loved me, Evie! Why would that change now? Better I take what I can now than wait for something that will never happen. Spare myself the disappointment.”
The sisters shared a look of pity on seeing their headstrong friend brought low by fear – for that was clearly, what this was. It was understandable, of course. There would be some uncertainty when hopes warred against apprehension, but neither could they stand by and watch their friend leap into a decision that might cost her future happiness. “Moira…”
Moira wasn’t finished. “I lost the two men I love most in the world when Richard came home alone,” Moira reminded with tears shimmering in her eyes. “I have lived without them these past five years, but I am done with that. I’m done with being alone. I want someone to love, someone to love me.” She looked down at the newborn sleeping in Eve’s arms feeling the familiar pang of longing. “I want babies of my own before it is too late.”
“I know you do, but promise me to wait just a bit longer,” Eve begged, unconsciously squeezing the baby. She’d never thought to have another after her own first marriage. “The Season is fast approaching. The balls and dinners here have already begun and soon I will be able to chaperone you again. If Aylesbury is serious in his intentions, he can wait on a proposal until we return to London at the very least.”
“But I cannot wait!” Moira insisted, feeling panic bubble up within her and hating herself for the weakness. “I can’t let him see me like this…”
Kitty rose and drew Moira into her arms. “Moira, dear…” Kitty looked helplessly over her shoulder at her sister.
“You say Vin never knew, Moira,” Eve soothed as she rocked her son wishing there was more they could do to ease Moira’s fears. “I know what you have been worrying about. I’ve seen it for weeks in the way you’ve responded to Aylesbury’s earnest courting. You must trust me when I tell you that no man, Vincent MacKintosh or not, could ever see you as a spinster…desperate or otherwise.”
Moira looked at her friend knowing she should not be surprised that Eve read her so well. Kitty chimed in, “Goodness, no! Moira MacKenzie, you are a gorgeous woman. Everyone knows you can hold out for the very best. Men make fools of themselves over you because they know it as well!”
“Are you certain he won’t see it otherwise?” Moira insisted worriedly.
Eve choked on a laugh. “Moira, he’s already proven himself to be a blind fool! Of course, he won’t know! Just give him a chance to come to his senses!”
“Very well, Evie,” her friend conceded, knowing there was no point arguing. Eve’s words however, sparked unbidden hope as well. What if Vin returned and could look on her with new eyes? Was finally able to see her as a man sees a woman? No, she couldn’t pin her hopes on that!
But, still…
No! She must not! She would be a fool to hope. “I will give you until we return to London next month but that is all.”
“And you will enjoy yourself.”
“And I will strive to enjoy myself."
Chapter 4
The Theatre Royal
Edinburgh, Scotland
A week later
Harrison Brudenall carried Moira’s hand to his mouth and kissed it gently. “Are you enjoying yourself, Moira darling?”
“I am, thank you.”
This evening he had escorted her to the Theatre Royal to see one of the last local showings of Tchaikovsky’s opera Queen of Spades. They were in the Glenrothes private box with Abby and Richard while Eve stayed at Carlton Terrace with her new son. Even surrounded by the crowd around them, Aylesbury had a way about him that made her feel as if they were alone in a confidential conversation. She liked that.
She liked his attentiveness. Liked the way he’d managed to take away the dread that filled her thoughts.
Aylesbury was by her side at every event she’d attended this week, from balls to dinners to rides in the park. As Eve noted repeatedly, the marquis couldn’t be faulted for the earnestness of his suit. Moira, though, was still having difficulties viewing him as a suitor but adored the depth of friendship he offered. He was funny and caring. It would be impossible not to like him.
And she truly did.
Despite her insistence that she was on the hunt for a husband, it had not struck her immediately to consider Harry Brudenall for the position months ago when they had first met. Moira merely enjoyed his company, his wit and intelligence. Other than the men of the MacKintosh clan and Haddington, he was the first man she’d ever spent any time with so she treated him as she would those lifelong friends. Like a brother. Weeks of riding through the city’s parks and gardens together last summer led her to believe that he saw her in the same light.
London’s Little Season showed a marked change in his approach to that friendship. It seemed the marquis had decided to do his best to sweep her off her feet. He charmed her with his sense of humor. Moira could also admit to his dashing good looks. Aylesbury was incredibly handsome with his hair as black as pitch contrasting with bright blue eyes that lit with more than affection when they landed on her. Now they lit with appreciation and tenderness as well. As the most eligible bachelor in town, his interest was noted and commented on. The consensus was they would make an excellent match, both wealthy and titled.
“When do you suppose the countess might consent to let me meet your father and grandfather?” he wondered as they waited for the curtain to rise on the first act.
“I’m not certain, Harry.” Moira cast a speculative look at Abby and Richard to make certain their attention was fully engaged and they wouldn’t overhear before she lowered her voice adding, “I will share a secret with you but you must promise you won’t speak of it to Abby and Richard.”
“Of course,”
the marquis agreed, curious at what Moira might share with him that she wouldn’t share with her closest friend.
“Do you recall last summer when I spoke of my brother and Richard’s brother, Vincent, being taken prisoner in Egypt?” she asked.
Indeed, he did remember. How could he not? Moira had been full of stories when they first met of her brother and friend. She shared stories both wistful and humorous. Stories that one told of loved-ones long gone when they might be remembered happily rather than with sorrow. “I do. You shared many marvelous memories with me. You hadn’t mentioned either of them again since my return, however.”
Peeking once again at Abby, Moira leaned in closer. “Vincent MacKintosh has been found alive and is to return home soon.”
Brudenall blinked and leaned back. “But that’s wonderful news, Moira! Why wouldn’t you share such a blessing with Richard?”
“Vin has been very ill since his return,” Moira explained. “Glenrothes thought it best to allow him some time to recover before he was reintroduced to his family.”
“Of course,” he nodded, understanding the unspoken inference having met most of the MacKintosh siblings the previous year. They were an unruly lot to be sure. For one attempting to recuperate in peace and silence, it would indeed be best to remain apart from the attention of so many. “Moira, darling…what of your brother, Jason?”
Moira shook her head tightly. “Glenrothes had no such news about my brother. I hope to speak with Vin about it when he returns.”
“Do you think..?”
She laid her hand on his arm and he covered it with his own. “I cannot allow myself to hope, can I? Jason and Vin have been assumed dead for more than five years. We mourned for them. My brother. Both my friends.”
My love, her heart cried silently before she pushed the thought ruthlessly aside. “It is a miracle that Vin has been found alive, but asking for more than that would be too much.”
Brudenall squeezed her hand and let the question lay. Moira would hope, he knew. She had adored them both, her stories told him that much. Perhaps Vincent MacKintosh’s return would give her back a brother. Not the one of her own blood but a brother of her heart nonetheless.
He was thrilled for her. She was a spirited woman. Her bright and brazen humor had caught him from the first, her intelligence and caring had drawn him even closer. Moira lived life with fire that drew men like a moth to the flame and Brudenall admitted he was just as attracted. The only shadow that ever dimmed her lightheartedness was speaking of her brother and, her friend, Vincent. Reminders of their deaths were the only thing ever to lower her lively spirit. He would be glad to have even a portion of that misery erased. She deserved it. “You will at least have your friend back.”
With a careless shrug to mask her thoughts, Moira changed the subject. “You see then that Eve will not consider traveling to visit Papa just yet?”
“Naturally, you should all be here to celebrate his return,” the marquis agreed.
Moira nodded vaguely allowing Harry to assume the reason that Eve would not allow their courtship to move forward. “Eve has been a dear friend for many years. She asks very little of me.”
She asks the world of me! her heart argued. Asking her to put her heart on the line once again so Moira could prove that her lifelong love had always been nothing but a one-sided crush.
“You are blessed with good friends,” he told her.
“You are one of them,” she said softly.
“I would like to be more.”
That was the biggest problem with the marquis. He wasn’t looking for friendship or even a marriage of convenience. Unlike most any other nobleman she knew, Aylesbury was determined to marry for love and affection and it seemed, since his return to Edinburgh, he was intent on finding it with her.
He would demand her heart – her whole heart – if they wed.
Oh, he was everything a woman could ask for in a spouse and he truly seemed to care for her. She had come to love him in return…perhaps not in the way that Abby loved Richard or Eve loved Francis MacKintosh, but it was real and steadfast. Aylesbury was a friend, much as her brother had been, and he filled a gap in her life that had been empty since her brother had disappeared. Since Vin had disappeared.
He would continue to fill that gap once she proved her resolve to Eve and Kitty and faced Vin once more. In time, he might eventually fill the role Vin had long held as well.
Keeper of her heart.
She wanted it to happen. Yearned for that moment when her heart could release itself to him. Moira wanted nothing more than to give her love to Harry Brudenall. Give it to a man who could return it. Share it.
Once she had proven that it wouldn’t be with Vin, Eve would relent. With Aylesbury, she could leave this place, leave Vin and all the memories that would return home with him behind. There could be more with Harry and she was determined to make it happen. However, having promised Eve that she wouldn’t encourage him into a proposal yet, Moira did not pursue his provoking statement instead she turned the conversation toward the Season to come.
Aye, she would wait as she promised Eve and Kitty. Let them see that Vin’s return would amount to nothing. It shouldn’t take long before they would see the futility of holding out hope for him. Then Moira could flee Scotland with a nice, English husband and never see Vincent MacKintosh again.
Never feel her heartbroken again.
Chapter 5
Each time you happen to me all over again
Edith Wharton - The Age of Innocence
Later that night
Moira’s eyes popped open as she stared into the blackness of her bedchamber. Her fire was burned down to embers leaving her to the night. Wondering at the time, she rolled over and squinted at the clock through the inky darkness that surrounded her. It was just after half three in the morning. What woke her then?
A muffled shout sounded through the walls followed by a moan. ‘What on earth was that?’ Moira wondered as she studied the gathered silk canopy above her that was becoming more visible as her eyes adjusted. It sounded as if it were coming from below her, through the floorboards. Not animalistic, certainly not a ghost or, more embarrassing, the sounds of her friend making love to her passionate husband.
Moira snorted indelicately at the very thought. In an effort to give the newly wedded earl and countess Glenrothes a bit more privacy since her arrival the previous spring, Moira had taken a suite of rooms on the third floor above the family apartments on the second and on the opposite end of the house from the couple. She thought to spare herself and them the chance of being overheard. It could not be them, she was certain, for this sound was coming from just below her.
It was also a sound that suggested pain…not passion.
Moira flung aside the covers and rose pulling on a dressing gown, her bare toes curling against the chill of the floorboards on this cold winter’s night. Able to see better as her eyes adjusted, she left her room without a candle and crept down the hall toward the central staircase sure the noise was coming from a lower level. Reaching the center of the townhouse, however, she couldn’t hear the sounds any longer. Still curious, she descended a level and took the second floor landing back in the direction of her rooms. Within a handful of steps, she was rewarded when the sounds grew louder as she continued down the hall.
The air was colder here, the heat generated through the house by the boilers kept her rooms on the upper floor warmer than the rest. The chill held a certain foreboding to Moira as she traced the source of the disturbance to the room just below and once removed from her own. Moira stared at the closed door uncertain how to continue until another agonized cry sounded from within.
Cracking the door quietly, she peered into the dark room. Much like her room, the hallway door opened to a private sitting room attached to an adjacent bedchamber. A fire must still have been burning in the adjoining room since a dance of muted, flickering light and shadows stretched in a long rectangle from the door. Compelled f
orward by the continued moans and mumbling, she moved farther into the sitting room with compassion urging her to soothe the one so pained.
Reaching the door to the bedchamber, however, Moira drew to a halt staring at the man stretched face down on the bed. She didn’t even need to see his face.
It was Vin.
Moira wavered where she stood feeling almost faint with surprise, almost as if she hadn’t truly believed him to be alive until that moment. Tears sprang to her eyes as her chest tightened with the flood of emotion. Emotion she had been denying since she’d first heard the news of his survival. Oh, Vin, she thought, how I’ve missed you!
When had he arrived? she wondered as she stared at him mesmerized. Before she returned from the theater? After she went to bed? The answer didn’t seem to matter as she drank in the sight of him. The bedclothes had been pushed down to his waist in his struggles and the firelight played across his bare back. Even in the gloom of the room, she could see that he was much thinner than in years past when he had been a braw Scot, thick and bulky. He might have been thinner but he didn’t appear at all frail. Lean might be a better description for she could make out the sinewy strength of each muscle as they flexed and relaxed while he thrashed on the bed.
He cried out again and Moira’s heart cried out in response to his pain. She hastened to his bedside wanting to soothe him however she could, to absorb whatever pain plagued him. Perching on the edge of the bed, she laid a hand on his shoulder thinking only to wake him from the nightmare that troubled him.
The roughened texture that met her hand, however, made her draw back and Moira stared down at the mass of scars that crisscrossed his back.
A Question of Lust Page 3