A Forbidden Liaison with Miss Grant

by Marguerite Kaye

  Grayson glanced down at her, smiling wryly. ‘That’s a bit of an understatement.’

  ‘If anyone knew what I’d done, they’d be shocked to the core.’

  ‘But they won’t, unless you tell them.’

  ‘No,’ Constance said uncertainly, for she felt as if her actions were written plainly over her face.

  They walked apart, but she was acutely conscious of him striding along beside her, of the easy way his arms swung, of the way he matched his pace to hers. Just over an hour ago she had been naked in his arms. She had of her own accord allowed a complete stranger to lock himself in a room in a tavern with her, and she had not for a single moment questioned the wisdom of doing so. And now here they were, fully clothed, looking as if they were simply strolling along among the evening crowds instead of indulging in a promenade of shame, following a decadent afternoon.

  Was she ashamed, though? Not a whit of it, astonishingly. Part of her was still floating on a cloud of sated desire, longing to be alone so that she could replay every delicious moment, recall every touch, and savour it all over again. No, she was not one whit ashamed, but she felt as if she was dreaming. When they said their farewells and went their separate ways as if nothing at all had happened, perhaps then reality would bite.

  ‘Where are you putting up? Not that I need to know,’ Constance added hastily. ‘I’m not intending to come calling or anything. I was simply...’

  ‘Oman’s Tavern Hotel on West Register Street. Do you know it?’

  ‘I know of it. I’m at the other end of the New Town.’

  ‘I’ll walk you back.’

  ‘There’s no need, Mr Maddox.’

  He quirked an eyebrow. ‘Mr Maddox?’

  ‘Grayson.’ She could feel herself blushing like a foolish girl, which was how she’d behaved. No! No foolish girl would have thrown herself at a man with such very adult intentions. She’d known exactly what she was doing and she had relished every moment of it. Until it was over that is, and there was no passion to make her forget her imperfections, the fact that her body was almost forty years old and the clothes which lay crumpled on the rented bedroom floor looked as if they were of a similar vintage. It didn’t help at all that Grayson showed no trace of embarrassment then or now. She eyed him from under the shadow of her bonnet in mild astonishment. He looked so collected, so self-contained.

  ‘I reckon I’m feeling the same as you, you know,’ he said, sensing her attention. ‘I can’t quite believe it. That wasn’t just out of character, it was pretty much unique in my experience. But I don’t regret it, unless you do.’

  ‘I don’t. We are both adults with no ties,’ Constance said firmly. ‘We knew exactly what we were doing, and have harmed no one else in the process.’

  ‘Bravo!’

  ‘Though if anyone ever did find out! Oh, my goodness, Grayson, your children—Ah, but, no, they are far too young, and besides...’

  ‘They’re not bairns, Constance. Shona is sixteen and Neil is fourteen.’

  ‘Dear God.’ She stared at him, appalled. ‘Not bairns at all. If they knew...’

  Grayson swore. ‘Now, that really doesn’t bear thinking about. Fortunately they are in Glasgow, and since we didn’t meet anyone I know in Newhaven...’

  ‘But what about here in Edinburgh?’

  He frowned, pondering the question for a few moments before shaking his head. ‘It’s highly unlikely that I’ll meet anyone who knows me, so there’s no need to walk a yard apart from me, nor to look about you like we’re about to be ambushed by some minister of the kirk telling us we’ve sinned, and promising us hell and damnation.’

  ‘Believe me, I’ve long since stopped letting any minister dictate how I lead my life.’

  ‘Then who is it you’re worried might see us together? Have I been thoughtless? You live here and I don’t, there’s bound to be friends, neighbours...’

  Constance closed the gap between them again. ‘My circle of friends is very small. Anyway, even if I am spotted with you, it’s hardly likely that anyone would rush to the conclusion that we’d spent the afternoon—well, why would they, given our age and circumstances. It’s hardly a habit for either of us.’

  ‘The way I’m feeling right now, it’s a habit I’d happily acquire.’

  ‘You don’t mean that!’

  ‘Would I take the chance again, if you offered it? I would. Would you? Ah no, don’t answer that, I shouldn’t have asked...’

  ‘Yes, I would,’ she answered promptly. ‘Though of course I may only be saying so because I know that this was a quite unique afternoon that will never happen again.’

  ‘That is me put firmly in my place. Seriously though, you know that I will keep this to myself, don’t you? I’m not going to insult you by saying that I don’t think any less of you, for I don’t know what to think about any of this at all, but I—dammit, what I’m trying to say is that I don’t see why two adults who are footloose and fancy free shouldn’t indulge in...’

  ‘...a delightful afternoon, without it damaging their reputation in any way.’

  ‘Aye. That,’ Grayson answered with a crooked smile. ‘To be honest, until you mentioned Shona and Neil, I hadn’t thought about that aspect of it at all.’

  ‘Do they think their papa a monk, then?’

  ‘They think me a father, which precludes me from being a man and they’d be shocked to the core if they discovered otherwise. The very thought of what would happen if—it really doesn’t bear thinking about.’

  Doesnae bearrrr thinking aboot.

  ‘There then, it’s as well you met me in Edinburgh and not Glasgow,’ Constance said, ‘and that we’ve absolutely no common acquaintances. In fact, my social circle is pretty much restricted to my friend Mrs Winston, who is currently out of town visiting relatives,’ Constance said. Which was true enough. Technically, Paul was not an acquaintance but her employer.

  ‘I thought you said you were a teacher.’

  ‘I used to be, in the school my father founded.’

  ‘That must have made it particularly painful to have to leave.’

  ‘Yes.’ But that was six years ago and there were plenty of other schools, she could see him thinking, looking at her with a mixture of sympathy and curiosity. She was oddly tempted to explain, and had to remind herself that despite what they had shared, he was still a complete stranger, and the secret was not only hers to share. ‘Mrs Winston, my friend, is also my godmother, and was my mother’s oldest friend,’ she said instead. ‘When I came to Edinburgh, she very kindly took me in and gave me a roof over my head. Her mind is sharp, she’s excellent company, but she is getting on a bit, and is rather frail, so I run errands for her and so forth. It suits us both, my staying there.’

  It was weak, and it made her sound shallow, but after all, she would never see Grayson again. The thought dented her mood. It was a rare thing for her to take to someone instantly the way she had with him. He made her laugh. She liked him, and she knew he felt the same about her. But they were already over halfway up Leith Walk now, and what in other circumstances could have been a promising beginning was about to be an abrupt farewell.

  How would they say their goodbyes? As if they were perfect strangers, with a nod and a polite handshake? Well that would be appropriate since they were perfect strangers! She would have liked the chance to know him better.

  ‘A penny for them? You were miles away,’ Grayson said, interrupting her thoughts and smiling quizzically.

  ‘I was wondering—I was just wondering how you came to be a shipbuilder?’

  ‘Unlike you, I didn’t join the family business, though my father was a shipping clerk.’

  ‘I’m not exactly sure what a shipping clerk is,’ Constance replied. Nor was she particularly interested, but if it kept the conversation in safer waters—ha!—then she was happy to be enlightened. ‘Do te
ll.’

  ‘Because you’ll not sleep tonight unless I do?’ Grayson retorted, quite undeceived. ‘Well then, on your head be it. A shipping clerk keeps an eagle eye on everything that enters or leaves the warehouses and the ships. Purchase orders, bills of lading, invoices, that kind of thing. Documentation was my father’s province. He was very good at it and highly trusted, with ten clerks working for him. But as far as the ships themselves were concerned—no. My father hated to cross a bridge, never mind sail.’

  ‘Whereas you?’

  ‘That’s why the west coast weather suits me. Did you not notice my webbed feet? Aside from a head for numbers, my father and I were chalk and cheese. I was expected to follow in his footsteps, but I’m not suited to sitting at a desk all day.’

  ‘No, you certainly don’t have the look of a man with a sedentary occupation. I mean—’ Constance broke off, appalled, as an image of exactly how he looked naked and aroused popped into her head. ‘I mean, you have not run to fat as some men do in their middle years.’

  ‘My middle years! And here was me thinking, after this afternoon, that I’m not past my prayers after all.’

  ‘Were you thinking that? Before? That you were past your prayers, I mean?’

  ‘I will be forty-three next birthday. In my dotage, as far as my children are concerned.’

  ‘I will be forty next week. A confirmed old maid.’

  ‘Aye, that’s exactly what I thought when I saw you, and this afternoon has proved it.’

  She laughed sheepishly. ‘I shall wake up tomorrow morning and this will all seem even more unreal than it does just now.’

  ‘If it was a dream, it was a delightful one.’

  ‘Yes.’ She met his gaze, caught her breath at the warmth in his smile, then looked away hurriedly. ‘It was.’ They had reached the top of Elm Row at the busy junction of Picardy Place which led into the heart of the New Town. ‘There is talk of building some sort of gate here, if the press is to be believed, to allow the King to be presented with the keys to the city.’

  ‘And bonfires on Calton Hill too,’ Grayson said, gazing up at the folly, intended to be an imitation of the Acropolis, that had begun construction at the summit. ‘There will be a fine view of proceedings from up there.’

  ‘Do you really think that the King will draw the kind of crowds the press are predicting? I think they are being far too optimistic.’

  ‘Now there we must disagree. Aside from the fact that a trip to Scotland will keep him from meddling in the conference at Verona at the same time as making him feel useful, I reckon the great and the good and the native hordes too, will be delighted to make him welcome. Everybody loves the excuse to put on their finest and make merry. When, after all, was the last time a king set foot in Scotland?’

  ‘Depending on your allegiance, it was 1746 when Bonnie Prince Charlie was hounded out. But if you mean a crowned monarch, then it was, I think 1633 when Charles was crowned here. That would be the first Charles for the English, though he was our sixth. The one who was beheaded. I wonder if that is a portent of things to come?’

  Grayson laughed. ‘You are talking treason.’

  ‘Oh, no! I am simply speculating.’

  ‘As opposed to your expressing a desire to make it so?’

  ‘You may interpret it that way, I most certainly would not.’

  Once again, he laughed. ‘It’s a fine line none the less, and though I’m inclined to agree with your sentiments, I think we’ll be in the minority. Fat George’s visit to Ireland last year was deemed a great success. Despite what you and I may think, he is reckoned to be charming and people like a spectacle, don’t they?’

  ‘Including your son and daughter?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  She stopped, for they had reached the imposing façade of the Register House. ‘Oman’s Tavern is just in there, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, but I’ll see you safely home first. The other end of the New Town, did you say? Come, let me walk with you, I’m not ready to part from you just yet.’

  She had no more desire to end their encounter than he did. Physically sated she might be, but she was very far from bored with his company, quite the contrary, so she nodded her assent. ‘Along Princes Street to the end, then. Coates Crescent is just beyond that on the way to Haymarket.’

  It was after six, and the traffic was beginning to thin. They walked together in a silence that became more strained with every step. On their left, the castle loomed high up on its volcanic plug, the echo of a battalion marching on the Esplanade spilling down into the marshland left by the draining of the Nor’ Loch. ‘There is to be a parade from the castle all the way down to Holyrood Palace,’ Constance said. ‘A ceremonial handing over of Scotland’s crown jewels, what is left of them.’

  ‘Another of Sir Walter Scott’s notions, doubtless,’ Grayson said sardonically. ‘The man will have the world believing we wear nothing but tartan, and go about our daily business armed with claymores and dirks.’

  ‘You are not one of Mr Scott’s admirers, then?’

  ‘No, but Neil, my son loves his novels.’

  His children, she was realising, were a touchy subject, and so Constance ventured nothing more than a polite, ‘Really?’

  ‘Really. Neil,’ Grayson continued to her surprise, ‘would love to inhabit the romantic Highlands that Mr Scott conjures up. He has no head for commerce and no interest in engines. He’s very much his mother’s son in looks and temperament.’

  ‘And your daughter?’

  ‘Shona. Ah, poor Shona, is far too much like me for her own liking and others too. Their grandparents—their mother’s family—they never approved of my marriage. It has led to complications which I’d rather not go into, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Of course not. They are none of my concern.’

  ‘It’s not that. It’s only that I’m enjoying being myself with you, just the two of us, for the moment. Tell me, what do you do to occupy yourself all day?’

  His smile reached his eyes again. They were horribly near Coates and their parting of ways, though of one accord their pace had slowed. At least she hoped it was of one accord. ‘I deal with Pearl—that is, Mrs Winston’s correspondence. I read the newspaper to her, and sometimes novels—she too is very fond of Sir Walter Scott. She cannot walk so far these days, but I accompany her when she takes the air in the park, and I keep her company when she has no other alternative. Oh, yes, and I walk her dog.’

  ‘Aren’t you bored?’

  ‘Oh, no, for I have my own...’

  ‘Your own what?’

  ‘My own reading. From the lending library. I am not an admirer of Sir Walter, and Mrs Winston does not mind my borrowing my own reading matter with her subscription.’ It was lame, but it was all she could think of. Grayson would think her idle, but that couldn’t be helped.

  ‘Reading, talking, dog-walking. It’s a long way away from teaching bairns. You must miss teaching, surely?’

  Every day. Disconcerted, for she had not permitted herself to admit it until now, Constance shrugged. ‘I have plenty to occupy me. And here is Coates Crescent,’ she declared, both relieved and depressed by the sight of the familiar terrain, coming to a halt in front of the gardens that fronted the row of houses. ‘This is where we must part.’ Taking a deep breath, she held out her hand. ‘Goodbye, Grayson.’

  He took it, covering it with both of his own. ‘Must it be goodbye?’

  ‘What else can it be?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. Nothing, not in the sense of—of anything.’ He grimaced. ‘I simply meant that I’ve enjoyed my time with you. I don’t only mean—though that was—well, we both are agreed about that. But the rest—I don’t know. Sorry, I’m not usually a man with a problem saying what he means. When I met you this morning, I felt I knew you. I’ve never felt such an instant connection before, and I�
�d like to spend a bit more time with you. A bit more talking, just me and you and letting the world go hang. Ach, never mind, ignore me, I’m havering.’

  ‘No, I have the feeling we are kindred spirits,’ Constance said, as he turned to go. ‘The oddest thing, isn’t it? I like you, knew I could trust you, right from the start.’ She curled her fingers into his. ‘You might be interested to know that I walk with Angus every morning.’

  ‘Lucky Angus, who’s he?’

  ‘He’s Mrs Winston’s Scotch terrier, and if he were human, I’d call him thrawn.’

  ‘And where and when do you and this stubborn creature take your walk?’

  ‘In the mornings between nine and ten, in the afternoons between five and six. Angus can’t walk very far, he’s old as well as thrawn, so I take him to the parkland at West Coates. It is just over there.’

  ‘So if I just happened to be passing I might bump into you?’

  ‘Another happy accident?’

  ‘Sometimes fate needs a helping hand.’ He smiled down at her, and his smile made her belly tighten. Then he lifted her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, and his smile changed, and for a moment she felt as if she couldn’t breathe. Then he let her go.

  ‘Until tomorrow,’ he said, turning away to head back towards Princes Street, raising his hand in farewell, but not looking back.

  Chapter Four

  Tuesday, 9th July 1822

  Coates Crescent, with its small formal residents’ gardens, bordered the main thoroughfare of Maitland Street, which led to Princes Street in one direction and the Haymarket in the other. It was already busy when Constance set out with a reluctant Angus on his leash the next morning, the road crowded with handcarts, drays, and coaches flooding into the city. Her nose twitched, for though the New Town had none of the open drains that polluted the Old Town, the air was still smoke-tinged, even on this balmy summer’s morning, and the constant traffic of cattle and horses was adding its own distinctive aroma to the mix.

  Having spent a good part of the night telling herself that it would be best if Grayson didn’t show up, her heart leapt when she saw him. She was early, but there he was, sitting on the grass, his back against a tree, writing in a notebook. His coat was olive-green today, worn with buff-coloured trousers strapped under his shoes in the new fashion. It suited him. He would, she thought, look very becoming in a plaid with those legs. Not that she should be looking at his legs, for it made her recall in vivid detail how they’d felt naked, sprawled on top of her in the aftermath of their lovemaking yesterday. Was it only yesterday? She still couldn’t quite believe they’d been so bold. She could feel herself blushing, and had a strong urge to flee.