‘Sir?’
‘Where is Lady Flora?’
‘She is resting in her room, sir.’
He returned to the drawing room and paced. All he wanted was to forget his shameful past and atone for his guilt by taking care of his sister and nephew. Was that really too much to ask? He needed her and Davy here, where he knew they were safe—surely she’d see the sense of that in time? She just needed time to adjust.
But Anna was right about one thing. It was time to confess everything to Flora. He’d been a fool to think he could hide something as big as that from her. He shoved his fingers through his hair, frustration bubbling through him.
He didn’t want to tell anyone about his criminal past, dammit, let alone humble himself in front of his wife. All he wanted was to forget the horror, the fear and the shame. The shame most of all. The fear of her reaction to the truth hung over him like a dark cloud. Jessica had deserted him as soon as she learned the truth...what if he lost Flora, too? Could she really fully accept him once she knew the worst or would she reject him? They had grown closer in the past few days and he had revelled in it. But to glimpse the joy that lay within his grasp only to see it slip away...that would be more than he could bear.
Life had taught him that to display emotion was to reveal a weakness others would exploit and he’d learned to keep his cards close to his chest. Flora, though, had found the courage to change—to speak her mind and to demand answers from him when, in the first weeks of their marriage, she had suppressed her own opinions and needs. She had found that strength from within and that gave him hope that, maybe, he, too, could change. The difference in her was astounding. From the young bride afraid of speaking her mind she was now a woman who could take the reality of the slums of Edinburgh in her stride, not to mention a sister-in-law who had been a prostitute. And now he was about to present her with a bigger challenge—a husband who had been a convict. As if their match hadn’t already been unequal enough, with an earl’s daughter wed to a boy from the slums.
He paused by the window. There would be a glorious sunset tonight. Nature was so uncomplicated. Unlike people. It followed its own path and rhythm, rolling on regardless. He eased his shoulders in a circle, wishing he could shake off this feeling of impending doom.
He could put it off no longer.
Flora’s bedchamber door was ajar and, peering in, he saw Muriel busying herself folding and putting away clothing. Flora was nowhere to be seen.
‘Where is Lady Flora?’
‘She is in her boudoir, sir.’
This conversation needed no audience. ‘Leave that for now, Muriel, if you please. Go down to the kitchen and...and...have a cup of tea. Tell Mrs Dalgliesh I said so.’
Chapter Seventeen
Lachlan didn’t allow himself to hesitate at the door.
‘It will be a glorious sunset this evening, Muriel. I—oh!’ Flora’s hand splayed against her chest. She had changed out of her dress into a silken robe secured around her waist with a tie belt. ‘Is there something amiss?’ She came to him, her words breathless, eyes filled with concern.
‘No. There is nothing amiss.’ He was captivated by her. There was no artifice to his wife: her honesty and her kindness shone. He wrenched his gaze from hers and looked beyond, out of the window. ‘You are right. It is a glorious sunset.’
‘I am pleased you are here to share it with me, Lachlan.’
Her smile was shy and it tugged at his heartstrings. How could he sully her pure spirit with the sordid truth of his life? And yet she already knew so much and she had accepted it. And she continued to accept him. Would she really reject him for stealing a loaf of bread and for suffering the consequences? Now he was with her, he had confidence in her generosity. The hesitation, then, was his own cowardice—he was afraid of owning up to his past and exposing his shame.
Honesty. Openness. Sharing.
All words he feared. All traits he must henceforth embrace.
‘As am I, Flora. Come, let’s watch the sun set together.’
They sat side by side on the chaise longue and he took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. Her shy sideways glance set his heart racing with its innocent promise. Would she continue to look at him like that once she knew?
‘I am sorry I wasn’t honest with you about my search for Anna from the beginning, Flora. I know how hard it must be for you to accept her into your home.’
She laced her fingers through his. ‘I confess I sometimes struggle to accept what Anna has been, despite knowing she was forced into such a life. But then I remember Galkirk and how I was cast as the offender even though I was the victim, and how it would have been infinitely worse had he succeeded in forcing himself on me and that reminds me to put aside my...my...natural aversion.’ She pressed their clasped hands to her heart. ‘I swear I will try to be a friend to her and that I will keep trying.’
He lifted her hand to his lips. ‘I am humbled by your generosity of spirit.’
Her thoughtfulness and her reasoning gave him the belief that she would not instantly condemn him, but would try to understand.
‘There is something about my past I must tell you, Flora. Anna knows and it is unfair on you both to expect her to keep it secret. It is time for there to be no further secrets between us.’
The colours outside were deepening into streaks of red, burnt orange, violet and indigo as the sun began to slip below the gently rippling sea. Unexpectedly, Flora leaned into him and nudged him with her head. He put his arm around her. ‘Tell me, Lachlan. I am listening.’
And it was easier when he could not see her face and there were no changes of expression to distract him. He brought their joined hands on to his thigh and covered them with his free hand.
‘I did not choose to go overseas. I was sent. By the courts. To Australia. When I was fifteen years old.’
She tensed and a tiny sound of distress escaped her. ‘You were transported? Why?’
‘I stole a loaf of bread.’
Flora’s fingers tightened on his. ‘A judge sent you to the other side of the world for stealing a loaf of bread?’ She shifted to face him. ‘I was afraid you were going to confess to much worse.’ She reached to caress his face. ‘Poor, poor boy,’ she whispered.
His throat ached and his eyes burned and blurred but, now that he had started, he could not stop. He told her how he was sent to London, to be incarcerated on the Susan until she had her full load of convicts, about the desperate conditions on board, where one wrong look or careless word could get a man, or boy, beaten or even killed. He heard a quiet sob or two as he talked, but he did not stop. It must all be told now. No more secrets. He told her of the horror of the voyage; the number of convicts—men, women and children—who perished from disease and deprivation; the unforgiving climate of New South Wales and the backbreaking work and harsh punishments that were the lot of many convicts.
‘I was lucky. Because of my youth I was assigned to private employment.’ That had been harsh, too, but he would not distress her with the details. ‘After four years I was granted a ticket of leave, which allowed me to start working for myself as long as I didn’t leave the area. By the time I’d served my sentence three years later, I’d seen the opportunity to make money—not only for my passage home, but enough to set me up for a new life in Scotland. My pride drove me to come home a successful man, but now... I cannot forgive myself for not returning as soon as I had enough money put by for the passage.’
Flora smoothed his hair. ‘But you did come home. You were not selfish enough to stay out there for ever, enjoying your good fortune, when you could have done so.’
‘If I had returned sooner, I would have seen my mother before she died.’
The reality hit him, making him gasp with the pain. Although that was the truth, he had never allowed himself to think it in so many words. His selfish determination to make his fo
rtune had robbed him of the chance to say goodbye to his beloved mother.
‘I might have saved her, simply by being here and bringing in another wage.’
‘Lachlan...’ Flora brushed his cheek with tender fingers, comforting. He closed his eyes. ‘You were trying to make amends, the only way you knew how. You couldn’t know what was happening to your mother and Anna and it was admirable that you wanted to prove yourself. You broke the law. You stole. And, yes, I know you were desperate and that you did it for your family, but it is still the law and you were ashamed of the label that hung over you. Thief. Convict.’
Lachlan stiffened, opening his eyes. The vista in front of them was constantly changing—the colours darkening as the sun slowly sank deeper and twilight advanced.
Thief. Convict.
She was right, but those words, from her lips, pained him.
‘I am still ashamed.’ The words tore from him. He risked a look at her. All he could see was compassion in those beautiful green eyes. He hung his head. ‘So very ashamed. You deserve better than a boy from the slums and an ex-convict. You should be married to a duke; you should be a duchess.’
Before he realised what was happening, Flora was on her knees on the sofa, embracing him, her body warm and pliant, her soft cheek pressed to his.
‘No!’ She hugged him close. ‘No. I had that chance...to marry a duke and do you know what? He is not half the man you are. I am not ashamed of you. You were driven to extremes and you have paid your price. You are a good man and you have made a success of your life. I am proud of you and I am proud to be your wife.’
He turned his head. Her gaze lowered to his mouth and then she tentatively touched her lips to his. A groan tore from his throat. He shifted towards her, framed her face with his hands and he kissed her again. Properly. Her lips softened beneath his and he teased with the tip of his tongue until they opened and he could lose himself in her lush warmth. He pulled her on to his lap. She threaded her fingers through his hair and he groaned again. Then he detected moisture against his cheek and, a moment later, tasted saltiness on his lips. He stilled. Pulled away.
‘What is wrong?’
A tear rolled down each of her cheeks. She shook her head.
‘Flora?’ He blotted the tears with his thumbs. ‘Why the tears?’
‘They are happy tears.’ She visibly swallowed. ‘I feel emotional.’
She blushed, but she held his gaze and he saw the effort it took for her to do so. He frowned, unable to understand the concept of happy tears—surely it was a contradiction?
‘About?’
‘This. Us. Is it wrong to be so happy that we are closer than ever? Although...’ She bit her lip. ‘You do not think me...forward...because I like kissing you?’
Lachlan stared, then burst out laughing. ‘Forward? Flora! I am your husband!’
She pouted. And shoved at his shoulder. ‘I know that. But my mother warned me—’
He put his hand across her mouth. Her eyes widened above it. This was his fault. He’d been too afraid of the secrets between them and had kept his distance to protect himself against the rejection he’d been sure would come. In protecting himself he’d confused his adorable wife.
‘Your mother was wrong. Forget whatever nonsense she told you.’
She dragged his hand away. ‘You are not...disgusted?’
‘Sweetheart. No! You could never disgust me. I love kissing you and it makes me happy that you enjoy kissing me. And, later, we will do other things that give us both pleasure. We are married.’ He pinched her chin. ‘It is allowed.’
She searched his eyes, a tiny frown stitched between her brows. Then she smiled. ‘Then kiss me again, Husband. I need the practice.’
* * *
He’d called her sweetheart! Flora hugged that knowledge to herself as she hurried down the stairs to the dining room. She was late. Lachlan’s fault, with his wonderful kisses and caresses—the time to dress for dinner had passed without them even noticing.
Lachlan had been reluctant to leave her, but in the end had torn himself away, saying, ‘We cannot neglect Anna on her first evening, but—’ and his voice had deepened, his eyes darkening ‘—we will have all night together. Would you like that?’
She had nodded, happiness flooding every fibre of her being as pure anticipation sent the blood humming through her veins. When he had realised she was crying, he had been so tender with her and she had taken her courage in both hands and forced herself to ask the question that had troubled her ever since their wedding night—whether it was wrong for a lady to find pleasure in marital relations? And he had reassured her. She could not wait for dinner to be over and bedtime to arrive.
She walked into the dining room and halted, taking in the scene. Lachlan, as usual, sat at the head of the table. He had risen to his feet as she entered. Her place, as usual, was set at the opposite end from him. And poor Anna sat marooned in the centre of one of the long sides. With her newfound confidence, Flora walked forward.
‘Good evening,’ she said. She kept walking until she stood next to Lachlan. ‘Do you think,’ she murmured, ‘that we might sit closer together when it is just family to dine?’
Lachlan frowned, surveying the table. ‘But...is this not correct?’
‘Yes, at a formal meal. But we are family, are we not?’ Their eyes met and they shared a smile. ‘It is not very comfortable to sit where we cannot talk with ease and your poor sister looks totally lost. May we move to sit closer to you?’
‘Of course, if that is your wish. Drummond?’
The butler stepped forward.
‘Please move the ladies’ setting to either side of mine.’
Once the dishes were served, Lachlan dismissed the servants and Flora seized her opportunity.
‘Will you tell us about your time in Australia, Lachlan? How did you rise from prisoner to successful businessman?’
‘I was sent to work for a farmer when I first arrived—I was deemed too young to be put to hard labour. He was a harsh man, but I worked hard and I kept my eyes open and I learned a lot. When I became a ticket holder I left him and went to work for James Glover, himself a freed convict, who owned a few thousand acres of land in the west of the territory. He’d been transported to Australia when he was fourteen, but he’d married and stayed there. He lost his wife and son the year before I went to work for him. He was a hard taskmaster, but an astute businessman and, again, I learned a lot. He said I reminded him of his Robbie and I think he saw something of himself in me, too, and before long I was virtually running the place for him.
‘I got my certificate of freedom in forty-one, but Glover begged me to say, offering me a higher wage. And then, one day, I stumbled across an outcrop of copper ore—I’d seen copper in rocks before, but this...even I could tell it was a rich deposit. It wasn’t on Glover’s land although it was close, but I couldn’t afford to buy the land outright so Glover and I went into partnership.’
As Lachlan talked and they all ate, Flora could see Anna becoming more and more engrossed in his story.
‘The assay results were good and once we dug out the surface ore we began mining underground where there was a rich seam of copper. There were good profits and, although home was always in my thoughts, I stayed on. Glover’s health started to fail and he relied on me more and more to run both the mine and the farm.’
He stared down at the table and Flora put her hand over his. ‘I’m sure that was a comfort to him, Lachlan.’
‘Oh, aye, I stayed for entirely selfless reasons,’ he said bitterly. ‘All I could see was my fortune mounting up, but I would trade it all to have seen Ma again. And to have saved you, Anna.’
‘What happened to the old man?’ asked Anna.
‘He died. And then I discovered he’d left me his share of the mine plus a sum of money. I sold the mine, moved to Sydney and began inve
sting in businesses, and I discovered a talent for it.’ He smiled mirthlessly. ‘Am I not the lucky one?’
‘Do you feel guilty that he left you the mine, Lachlan?’ Flora could see from the look he slanted her that he did. ‘You should not—Mr Glover would not have discovered it on his own so he benefitted as well. And you said yourself you were running the farm and the mine for him. Surely you deserved some reward?’
His expression said he disagreed and Flora cast around for a change of subject.
‘How old were you when Lachlan was sent to Australia, Anna?’
Anna jerked her attention to Flora. ‘Ten.’ She stared, almost defiantly, across the table at Flora.
‘That must have been very hard for you and your mother.’
‘We did well enough. I got a job in the cotton factory when she fell ill. I was twelve by then—old enough to earn a wage and handloom weavers were earning hardly anything by then anyway, only a few shillings a week. We managed for three years before she died.’
Her voice rang with pride and Flora felt a glimmer of respect for this woman who had such a hard start to life.
* * *
At the end of the meal, Lachlan refused his customary whisky and cigar and instead accompanied the ladies to the drawing room. At the door to the room, Anna looked from Lachlan and Flora and back again.
‘I am tired,’ she said. ‘If ye have nae objections, I’m for my bed.’ She stared across at the staircase. ‘I’m not keen on leaving Davy alone much longer, ye ken.’
‘Tilly is watching him.’ Mrs Dalgliesh had assigned one of the kitchen maids, with experience of caring for younger siblings, to help with Davy. ‘She will take good care of him, Anna, but by all means retire now if that is your wish. You do not need to ask permission...this is your home now.’
Anna bent an unfathomable look upon Flora. ‘Aye. Well. For the time being. Goodnight.’
She headed for the stairs, leaving Flora and Lachlan alone. Flora’s pulse tripped and then started to hammer. Surely, tonight, he would come to her? His dark eyes travelled over her face and down her body, leaving fiery shivers in their wake.
His Convenient Highland Wedding Page 19