“I know ye’ll be missin’ my help,” he’d told Nick. “But I canna be lettin’ them go off to that bloody city without me to look after them.”
“I completely understand, Grandda,” Nick had said, trying to muster a convincing show of disappointment. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you, though.”
Royal had all but spit out his mouthful of whisky.
“Besides,” Angus had added, shooting him a dirty look, “ye’ll be needin’ me to help ye handle the gossip over ye and Tira.”
The news that Royal Kendrick was raising his illegitimate daughter within the bosom of his family had created the scandal of the summer in Glasgow. Rather than hiding Tira away, the family had conducted themselves as bold as brass , in the opinion of the gossips. But since the powerful Earl of Arnprior had made clear his full support for Royal, the worst of the scandal had dissipated fairly quickly. Logan had also been enormously helpful. Whenever there was even a hint of a mean-spirited remark, Logan issued a thinly veiled threat, which invariably put the fear of God into the offending party.
The brazen display they’d planned left little room for speculation about Tira’s mother, and most of the gossip had swirled around Royal. But since Logan and Royal tended to keep to themselves, working at the office during the day and spending evenings quietly at home, even that was minimal. Angus and the nursemaid could now take Tira for her daily walks in the park and barely anyone took notice.
Life was finally settling into an orderly and peaceful routine, with Ainsley’s secret safe. The Kendricks, it appeared, had pulled it off. Royal might not be deliriously happy with his new life, and there would always be an empty spot in his heart that only Ainsley could fill, but he was content.
Contentment felt rather like a miracle, and was more than he deserved.
Royal corked his ink bottle. “It’s not surprising that Angus is so devoted to her. After all, he loves to feel both useful and to order people about. Fortunately, Tira is much too young to realize how irritating he can be.”
“I think she loves the old goat as much as he loves her,” Logan said.
“True,” Royal said. “She smiled at him before anyone else, including me.”
“It was probably just gas.”
“Please tell me you didn’t say that to him.”
“I did, and I thought he was going to run me through with a dirk,” Logan said with a grin. “He even read me a grand lecture on how his wee great-granddaughter is the smartest child ever born.”
“And I’m a lucky man to have such a grand family,” Royal said.
Logan shook his head. “If anyone deserves our support, it’s you. You’ve saved us from ourselves any number of times. Nick and I would have killed each other without your intercession.”
It wasn’t a figure of speech or an exaggeration. Nick’s first wife had died a tragic death, leaving him with a little son. Wee Cameron had been the light of all their lives. Tragically, when he was only four, he’d slipped into a river and drowned while fishing with his uncles. Going in after the boy, Logan had almost perished in a brave but futile rescue attempt.
In his terrible grief, Nick had blamed Logan for his son’s death, and they’d all but murdered each other in a brutal fight. Royal had managed to separate them, but the damage had been done. Nick had exiled Logan, ordering him never to set foot on Arnprior lands again. Knowing his two older brothers needed time apart, Royal had convinced Logan to follow his laird’s orders.
What the family had assumed would be a separation of only a few months had turned into seven long years of exile in Canada for Logan. Only recently had Nick seen his way past the old grief and anger. With Victoria’s help, he’d finally been able to forgive Logan and welcome his return to the clan.
“Thank God those days are behind us,” Royal said. “We were apart for far too long, and we’re grateful that you’re home.”
His brother rubbed a hand through his thick black hair. “I might have to be going away again.”
“Really?”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to return to Canada for a while. There are a number of issues that need to be dealt with in the Halifax office. They’re not pressing at this point, but will be eventually.”
“I thought you’d found a good manager to handle things on that end?”
“I thought so too,” Logan said, “until I discovered he was skimming profits from my timber trade. Not huge amounts, but enough that I finally noticed.”
“The bastard. But can’t you find someone trustworthy to take up the position, and send him over in your stead?”
“Easier said than done. I’ll advertise, but it’s entirely possible I’ll have to go back, sort things out, and find someone over there.” He shrugged. “Not everyone would be prepared to uproot his life and move to Canada, or even Halifax. It’s a splendid country, but life can be rugged.”
Royal pondered the notion for a few moments. “I would.”
“You would what?”
“Be willing to move to Halifax to manage your offices. Me and Tira, of course, when she’s a bit older and can manage a sea voyage.”
Logan gaped at him. “Laddie, you truly have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Royal didn’t, and the thought had more or less popped out of his mouth. But it had immediately made a certain sense. As well as things had worked out with Tira, there was always the risk of discovery here. Taking her so far away would remove that risk.
But there was more to the appeal of Canada than that, and he knew it. There was a special kind of loneliness here in Glasgow. Every time he turned a corner or walked into a shop, he half expected to see Ainsley. The sensation had even dogged him at Kinglas. It was a gentle, sorrowful haunting that Royal suspected might never go away, because he was convinced he’d never love anyone but Ainsley. For Tira’s sake and for his own sake, it might be better to leave all those memories behind and start over abroad.
“In Canada, we could start over,” he said. “For Tira, it would certainly be better. She’d be out of reach of anyone who could threaten her safety.”
Logan scowled. “No one is going to threaten her safety. Not while Nick and I have anything to say about it.”
“Logan, we can tell ourselves that all we want, but if Tira’s true identity is ever discovered, we would have no legal standing to keep her.” He glanced out to the hall and lowered his voice. “Cringlewood is her father, after all. And if he took her from us . . .”
“He could use her as leverage against Ainsley,” Logan said. “Yes, I know that. What I don’t understand is why the idiot is so obsessed with the bloody woman. Surely he can find another pretty girl to wed. There must be plenty who would be thrilled to become a marchioness.”
If there was one thing Royal understood, it was Cringlewood’s obsession with Ainsley. But unlike the vile marquess, he wanted what was best for her, and what was best for her was up to Ainsley alone to decide.
“The man’s an arrogant bastard who thinks he can buy or claim whatever he wants. I’m sure he sees Ainsley’s refusal as an insult that his pride cannot bear. She’s also a considerable heiress, which is no doubt an added incentive.”
Logan shook his head in disgust. “And her family is obviously no help. What kind of father tries to force his daughter to marry a Sassenach bastard like Cringlewood?”
“Another Sassenach bastard,” Royal said dryly. “Lord Aldridge has promoted this marriage for years, as have other members of both families.”
“I still think she was a fool not to marry you as soon as she birthed the child. She couldn’t have asked for a better husband.”
“Maybe, but Cringlewood and Ainsley’s family would likely have figured out almost immediately that this mysterious baby was hers. They can count backward from nine. Add in her months-long seclusion, and it wouldn’t take a genius to arrive at the correct conclusion.”
“It all sounds positively gothic,” Logan said. “And stupid. You would have protected the
lass. We all would have protected her.”
Like the rest of the family, Logan couldn’t understand why Ainsley hadn’t been willing to take the risk and marry Royal, especially if it meant being able to keep her daughter. In fact, they thought her a fool for not doing so.
But Ainsley was terrified of Cringlewood, and her need to keep Tira safe from him trumped every other consideration. That was something Royal both understood and accepted.
“She made the decision she felt was best for her and for Tira,” he said. “I have to respect that.”
Logan grimaced with sympathy. “I’m that sorry, lad. I know how you feel about her. I only wish . . .”
“Thank you,” Royal said, cutting him off. There was no point in dwelling on what might have been. “But let’s get back to your problem. It’s worth thinking about having me take on the job in Halifax, Logan. I’m sure I could manage it.”
“I’m sure you could too.” Then Logan hesitated, his expression turning troubled. “It’s not easy raising a child on one’s own, especially without family to support you.”
Something in his brother’s tone seemed off. “I’m sure we’d manage.”
Logan rolled his lips inward, and then shook his head. Royal recognized those signs. His brother wanted to tell him something but wasn’t sure if he should.
“Whatever it is, you should just get it out,” he gently prompted.
His brother expelled a weary sigh. “I’ve got a son, Royal.”
“Um, you do?”
“His mother died a few months after his birth,” Logan quickly added. “It was . . . difficult. Her parents moved in with me to help, thank God. I would have been lost without them.”
Astounded, Royal could do nothing but gape at him.
Logan’s mouth tipped up in a wry smile. “Close your trap, little brother. You’ll be catching a grand big fly if you don’t.”
“Were you and the lass married?” Royal finally managed to ask.
Logan scowled. “Of course. Unfortunately, we only had a few years together before she died.”
“I’m truly sorry for that,” Royal said quietly. “But why the hell wouldn’t you tell any of us? You could have written to me, or to Angus.”
“It was . . . complicated.”
“How complicated can it be to tell your family you have a wife?” Royal asked with exasperation.
When Logan arched an ironic eyebrow, he was forced to concede the point. Apparently, the Kendricks only did complicated when it came to women and marriage—or not marrying them.
“Well, you can tell me about her now,” Royal said. “Who was she?”
Leaning forward, Logan braced his forearms on his thighs and stared at the floor. “Her name was Marguerite Pisnet. Her father was a trapper, and he was one of my first employees—although he quickly became much more than that. It was largely due to Joseph that I was able to establish myself so quickly. He knew everyone in the fur trade east of Montreal.” He glanced up with a quick smile. “Joseph was smart as hell and as honest a man as you’d ever want to meet.”
“He sounds just the sort of man you’d want for a father-in-law. And if you married his daughter, I’m sure she was splendid too.”
Logan sat up and stared absently at the lone window in Royal’s office, one with a view over the bustling commercial street. There were ghosts in his stark, blue gaze, and Royal’s heart ached to know that his brother had encountered yet more sorrow in his troubled life.
“Marguerite was a bonny lass with a kind and gentle heart,” Logan said. “I never once heard her say a mean word about anyone. I didn’t deserve her, but the lass decided she loved me, and there was no talking her out of it.”
Royal’s throat went tight at the quiet sorrow in his brother’s voice. After a fraught moment, he forced a smile. “I’ll wager she was pretty, too. She had to be, if you married her.”
As he’d hoped, Logan huffed out a grudging laugh. They both knew Logan had always had an eye for the ladies and they’d eyed him right back. “I’ll have no cheek from you, lad, or you’ll find your arse flying out through that window.”
“You always did get the prettiest ones, you lucky bastard,” Royal said with a grin. “So, what else can you tell me about her? With a name like Marguerite Pisnet, she was obviously French.”
The French had settled quite a bit of Lower Canada before the English arrived to complicate things.
“Not really,” Logan said tersely.
Royal frowned. “She’s English, then?”
“No.”
“Logan, do you want me to guess some more?”
His brother threw him a challenging gaze. “Marguerite was Mi’kmaq.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Royal said slowly.
“The Mi’kmaq are the native inhabitants of that part of Canada.”
Royal blinked. “Oh, I see. Why does she have a French name, then?”
“There was a great deal of intermarriage between the French settlers and the Mi’kmaq. Many of the natives converted to Catholicism, as well. Marguerite’s father is half French, or Acadian, more properly, and there’s an Acadian grandmother on the maternal side, too. The Acadians were the French who permanently settled the region.”
That he did know. “They were then driven out by the English in the wars of the last century, were they not?”
“Indeed, although Marguerite’s family never left. They stayed in Nova Scotia and mostly survived off fishing and trapping, although they also had a small farm. I met her father shortly after I arrived, and he almost immediately came to work for me.”
“I see.” Royal cocked an enquiring eyebrow. “And did you really think we would hold it against you that you married someone of native blood?”
Logan lifted his shoulders in a diffident shrug.
“Don’t be such an idiot,” Royal said. “We’re Highlanders. To the English, we’re the savages. They treated us like that for centuries, as you recall. We would have understood your situation better than anyone.”
His brother spread his hands in apology. “I know I should have written and told you. But you’ll recall that the Kendricks were a complete disaster at that point. Nick was barely functioning after little Cam’s death, and then you both took up your commissions and went off to war. I could have written to Angus, but he was trying to hold everything together at Kinglas. Then, when it finally made sense to let you know I was married and had just had a son, Marguerite fell ill.”
“I’m sorry, old man,” Royal said. “What was it?”
A brief spasm flexed his brother’s features. “Smallpox.”
“Bloody hell.”
“Aye, that’s the phrase for it,” Logan said grimly. “It was a small mercy she went quickly. But I was left with a three-month-old babe and not a clue how to manage any of it.”
“Not to mention you were grieving.” Coming after Cam’s death only a few years prior, it must have been a horrible blow. “I’m so sorry, Logan. I wish I had known.”
His brother waved a hand, obviously uncomfortable with all the emotion. “Don’t fash yourself, lad. You had your own problems to deal with.”
“But your son avoided the illness, I take it.”
Logan’s eyes lit up. “Aye, Joseph is a strong and healthy boy, thank God.”
“Ah, I have a nephew named Joseph. That’s capital,” Royal said.
“Joseph Logan Kendrick. We named him after my wife’s father.”
“And you.”
Logan gave him a sheepish smile. “Marguerite insisted.”
“It’s a splendid name, and I’m sure he’s a splendid boy.”
“He is.” Logan fell silent for a few seconds. “I miss him more than I can say.”
“He’s with his grandparents, I take it?”
“Yes. They moved into my house in Halifax after Marguerite died. Joseph was helping me manage the business, while Marie—my mother-in-law—took care of my son. But Joseph had a stroke last year and can no longer ma
nage the work.”
“I see why things are so complicated, but that still doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell us as soon as you returned home,” Royal said, giving him a stern look. “You know we would all support you.”
“Even Nick?”
“Why the hell wouldn’t he? The two of you reconciled months ago.”
Logan stared down at the floor again. “Because I still have my son, and he doesn’t.”
Ah, hell.
“How old is the lad?”
“He’s four.”
The same age as Cam when he had drowned. Complicated, indeed.
“I’m not saying it won’t bring up some difficult feelings for Nick,” Royal said. “But he has forgiven you. Even more importantly, he’s forgiven himself. Cam’s death was a tragic accident, and he knows that now. And Nick is happy thanks to Victoria. He wants you to be happy too.”
Logan eyed him dubiously.
“You need to trust him,” Royal insisted. “He’s your brother, as well as your laird and chieftain. Nick will be royally pissed if you keep this from him much longer, as will everyone else.” He lifted a significant eyebrow. “Just imagine how Victoria will react.”
Logan winced. “I know. I’m trying to figure out the best way to tell them. If you could keep this under your hat a bit longer, I would be grateful.”
Royal mentally sighed. Apparently, he was the keeper of secrets. “Of course. And if you want me to be there when you tell Nick, just say the word.”
“Thank you, but I’m mostly depending on Victoria to keep him from killing me.”
“He’ll only kill you if you don’t tell him.”
“I’ll do it soon, I promise.”
Royal nodded. “What are your plans for Joseph? Surely he should be with his father, here.”
Logan scrubbed a hand over his head. “I didn’t want to uproot him if I wasn’t going to stay.”
“But you are going to stay, are you not?”
“I’d like to.”
“Then you should bring him here to live with you, Logan. How can you not want that?”
His brother shot him a dirty look. “I do want that. It’s just that he’s so close to his grandmother. She’s been everything to him.”
The Highlander Who Protected Me (Clan Kendrick #1) Page 13