Lucy and Her Scottish Laird

by Margo Maguire

  But his heart was far from in it.

  “I want no mention of Craigmuir or the castle in this endeavor, Boyd,” Ian said. “The items will speak for themselves without any connection to my family.”

  “Yes, as you wish, my lord,” Boyd said. “The auction will be held on Monday afternoon if that suits. We will have the materials printed and catalogued by then.”

  “Yes, all right,” Ian replied. It meant he would be in Edinburgh past Friday, the day of Lady Muirhouse’s ball. He could attend. Lucy would be there. He might attend. There was no particular reason not to attend.

  “I’ll see to the details if you wish, my lord,” Ferguson said, his expression puzzled.

  Ian realized he must appear distracted. “No. No, that’s all right, Ferguson. When the listings are ready, we can go over them together.” He turned to Boyd. “When will that be?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Shall we agree on a time to meet?”

  When all was arranged, Ferguson showed Boyd out, then joined Ian in the library. “MacAdams seemed like a new man when we left the castle,” he said to Ian.

  “He did. The weight of debt and failure has been lifted from his – and our – shoulders. I cannot imagine him dealing with my father’s excesses all these years.”

  Ferguson coughed into his hand. “’Tis truly a relief, my lord.”

  Ian was glad his family’s faithful steward could now be free from worry. With Craigmuir’s newfound wealth, MacAdams’s annuity had become a certainty. He and his wife would have no financial worries through their old age.

  And there was a lot Ian could do for his tenants now. The harvests these last two years had been dismal, but Ian could suspend their rents indefinitely now. He would make sure every family had enough food to last through the winter.

  The treasure had been appraised at hundreds of thousands of pounds, more than the estate had earned in generations. Ian wondered where and how Gordon and Béatrice had acquired such riches. He hoped MacAdams would find some clues in his search through the library.

  “I think MacAdams enjoys digging through those old books and manuscripts,” Ian said. “His Latin and French are quite good.”

  “Aye. He is—”

  A knock at the door interrupted them. It was Stuart. “Mr. Munro has arrived, my lord, and is waiting for you in the drawing room.”

  “Damnation,” Ian muttered when the butler walked away. “I sincerely hope he did not see Boyd leaving.”

  The look of horror on Ferguson’s face indicated his agreement.

  Ian went into the drawing room and shut the door behind him. “What do you want, Duncan?”

  “Ah, Cousin. The house looks bonny, as usual. Was that James Boyd who was just leaving when I arrived?”

  “What business is it of yours?”

  “Hmm.” Duncan smiled, putting all his charm into it. “I shall need an increase in my quarterly allowance, Brox. The cost of…well, everything…has risen so.”

  Ian held his tongue until he could speak without shouting, and opened the door. He would not dignify his cousin’s unwarranted request with an answer. “If that’s all?”

  Duncan sat down in defiance of Ian’s obvious invitation for him to leave. “No, that is not all.”

  Ian felt like walking away, but he was not about to leave his cousin alone in the house. “What is it, Duncan?”

  “I had an interesting conversation with my mother after I left Craigmuir.”

  “And?”

  “It seems the duchess had quite a lot to say to her. About you.”

  A chill ran down Ian’s spine. “Go on.”

  “Suffice it to say that eyebrows would be raised if her words were repeated.”

  “Repeat them now. For me.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  * * *

  Duncan stood. “I think not. I’ll just take the increase in my allowance and enjoy the rest of my stay in Edinburgh before I return to Brodie House to see my dear mother again.”

  Ian watched him leave.

  The duchess never would have said a word about the circumstances of his birth. Because what did that say about her? The truth would be too humiliating. Besides, who would believe her?

  * * *

  “Do you think Lord Broxburn will go to the ball?” Claire asked Lucy for what seemed like the tenth time, although it was probably closer to the third.

  “I really do not know,” she replied. “He said nothing to me about it.” She had not seen or spoken to him since his visit on the day he’d met them at her uncle’s house after their trip to the castle.

  “Oh, I hope he does,” she said, sighing. “Kathryn Hay is a fool for missing her opportunity with him. But her foolishness is my advantage.”

  Kathryn had not been the least bit interested, but Lucy kept that observation to herself. She had come along with some of her new acquaintances to walk up to Arthur’s Seat. That was something she liked very much about Scotland – the Scots enjoyed the outdoors. Walking, riding, fishing…Not that she would be caught dead doing two of the former, but she did love to walk. And she liked the robust nature of the Scots she’d met.

  While Claire went on about Lord Broxburn’s beautiful dark eyes and his strong jaw – and the dukedom he would soon inherit – Lucy thought about the ghillie’s cottage on his land and felt an absorbing longing for it. The place was peaceful and remote, and full of old relics that no one but she would ever appreciate. Though perhaps Broxburn would, too – he did have that tower room full of wonderful treasures.

  “I’ll be wearing a taffeta confection in Saxon green,” Claire said. “And my mother’s emerald and pearl choker.”

  “I’m sure they will suit you very well,” Lucy said absently. There’d been some incredibly beautiful jewelry in the treasure box Béatrice had shown her in the Craigmuir library. She assumed Broxburn would sell it – she imagined it would be very valuable to a collector.

  Joshua took her arm as they looked out over the city of Edinburgh. It was a breathtaking sight, and Lucy had to admit she liked what she’d seen of the city so far. It was not as imposing as London had been, and yet there were shops and entertainments that rivaled the city so beloved by her sister, Jessamine.

  “It’s a fair city, but I believe I prefer Reading,” Joshua said.

  “Yes, there is something to be said for home…the familiar,” Lucy mused.

  “You must be anxious to return to Stillwater House.”

  Lucy nodded. “I was, at first. But the ache of separation has passed. I was so upset about not seeing Calvin and Samuel—”

  “But now I understand Samuel might travel up at Christmas to escort you home,” Joshua said.

  That was true. Lucy’s sister and brother had informed her of this soon after their arrival. Oddly enough, she had mixed feelings about leaving.

  And those feelings had much to do with Lord Broxburn.

  Later that night, Lucy was in Kildrum’s small sitting room, sipping tea with her brother and sister and Joshua. Meg was still reticent, just as she’d been since the early spring when she’d returned home from Lady Wakefield’s home at Lake Windermere. Lucy and her sisters had feared something untoward had happened, but Meg had denied it, and gone on as though she’d always intended to return home when she did.

  They all doubted that was entirely true.

  Calvin was not reticent in the least. He’d spent the past few years in America, and his tales of the wild new country kept Lucy riveted. They were almost enough to keep her thoughts from straying to Lord Broxburn as they were wont to do far too frequently.

  Calvin was twenty-seven years old – a handsome, brawny fellow who’d caught the eye of more than one of Lucy’s Edinburgh acquaintances. He could marry one of them and take her home to Berkshire.

  It was the reverse of what would happen if Lucy married a Scot.

  But the thought of staying wasn’t quite as bothersome now. She liked her uncle very much, and if she did not have to spend a great
deal of time with her aunt, it wouldn’t be too bad. And the young ladies she’d met were quite nice, even if Claire did annoy her with her talk of Broxburn.

  “It will be a better harvest next year,” Joshua said, interrupting Lucy’s thoughts. “The past two years have been abysmal, but it looks as though the weather has finally improved.”

  “There were bad harvests even in America,” Calvin remarked. “The farmers there said they had never seen such cold, wet summers – two seasons running.”

  Lucy wondered if that was what had put Broxburn in such a dire financial position. She was glad she had been at Craigmuir Castle for Béatrice to show her the treasure, though why the ghost had never shown it to anyone else was a mystery. Lucy was sure the contents of that box would have helped any number of Béatrice’s descendants over the centuries.

  For some reason, the ghost had seen fit to appear to Lucy, someone who had no real connection to Craigmuir – other than her attraction to its heir. She had to admit his touch set her heart pounding, and when she thought of any sort of intimacy with Josh—

  “Perhaps I will stay here in Edinburgh with you, Lucy,” Meg said.

  “Oh, would you?” Lucy cried happily, pulling her sister into a tight embrace. “That is a most welcome thought!” And perhaps her sister would overcome the melancholy that seemed to have overtaken her since her return home from the Lake District.

  Meg pulled back a bit, nodding. “I actually do miss the north country. It’s not the same as Windermere, but I do love the hills.”

  “What about Mama? Do you think she will be all right without one of us there to look after her?”

  “Mama is well on the mend,” Meg said. “Besides, Aunt Martha came for an extended visit. That was the reason I felt I could leave home for a while.”

  Martha was her mother’s sister, the widow of a country gentleman. She’d never had her own children, but was like a second mother to her nieces and nephews. She was nothing at all like Arden.

  “She took matters in hand the moment she arrived, insisting that Mama take her ease.”

  Lucy laughed happily. “Yes, that sounds just like Aunt Martha.” Their aunt will have taken charge of the household, leaving their mother to do naught but sit in the garden with her feet up, sipping tea.

  “Mama is much better, though,” Meg remarked. “Even in the time since you left home, she seems stronger.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  “Jessamine is home again, and of course Emily is there.”

  “And Samuel?”

  “Not yet, but he will be there soon,” Meg said.

  They continued talking of family matters, and Lucy learned that Jessamine was going to Richmond to help when Caroline’s baby came. That was a relief to Lucy, who had hoped to be the one to take care of her sister during her confinement with her first child.

  “Uncle Archie said you were fascinated with Craigmuir Castle,” Meg remarked, wandering away from the others in their party.

  Lucy nodded. “You would not believe it, Meg. It is a beautiful, ancient place, and incredibly well-preserved.”

  “No doubt Joshua would like to see it.”

  Lucy frowned. The idea of Joshua intruding into Broxburn’s home was not as welcome an idea as she’d once thought.

  * * *

  Ian went to see Malcolm the day after Duncan’s visit, even though he could not possibly tell him his suspicions about what his cousin might know. He could not tell anyone.

  “I hope I am not intruding,” he said when Malcolm met him in the foyer of his Edinburgh house.

  “Ian! Not at all! Of course I am very glad to see you,” Malcolm said, “but I must admit I am surprised to learn you are here in town.”

  “You will not believe our good fortune.” Ian wanted to inform Malcolm of the treasure, himself. He didn’t want his closest friend to find out after the auction through some horrid chain of gossip. And he also wanted to tell him about the way it had been found.

  When they were alone in Malcolm’s parlor with a pot of coffee on the table between them, Ian said, “We’ve found a treasure in the library at Craigmuir.”

  “A treasure?”

  Ian nodded, still trying to absorb all that this meant for his family and his lands. “Aye. A vast, ancient treasure that was hidden away for centuries.”

  A slow smile grew upon Malcolm’s face. “How…This is marvelous, old man. I am sincerely happy and deeply relieved for your sake. But how did you find it?”

  Ian explained the way Lucy had been led to it by the Craigmuir ghost. Malcolm sat back in his chair.

  “And that is not all,” Ian continued. “I saw Béatrice and her lover in my father’s bedchamber when he seemed at death’s door.”

  Malcolm stood. “Are you sure…I mean, there’ve been rumors of ghosts down there ever since I’ve known you. You are sure you saw the actual—”

  “There is no doubt about what I saw,” Ian said. “And it is certain Miss Stillwater had to have been shown the treasure. She would never have found it without some otherworldly assistance. But beyond that…I honestly saw them with my own eyes.” Ian thought back to the filmy shapes that had vascillated between solid form and ethereal presence. “My father is the absolute image of Sir Alex.”

  Malcolm sat silent for a moment, then he grinned. “Then you truly are that wee bastard I used to call you when we were lads.”

  Aye, more than Malcolm would ever know. “You could say so.”

  “But I won’t,” Malcolm said with a laugh. “Even if I wanted to, what would be the point?”

  Ian inclined his head in agreement, though he still wondered what his cousin knew. Had the duchess actually spoken to Duncan’s mother of Ian’s origins? Why would she do such a thing when it would discredit her and her marriage to his father?

  “What about the treasure Miss Stillwater found?” Malcolm asked. “Jewels or coins?”

  Ian told him about the three metal strongboxes hidden away in secret compartments in the library, and what they’d found inside. He spoke of his plans to sell the contents.

  “All of it?”

  “Most, yes,” Ian replied. “I’ll keep a few artifacts that I think are of value to Craigmuir.” He wondered how Lucy would look with the circlet of gold encrusted with sapphire and pearls upon her head. Or wearing the pearl ring surrounded by small red stones.

  He imagined she would look very well in anything, and exquisite in nothing. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her lying beneath him, wearing naught but a smile. Her glossy, dark hair would be spread out across his pillow and her sapphire blue eyes would sparkle with satisfaction. He was startled out of his reverie by the unwelcome mental intrusion of Joshua Parris’s face.

  Gesu, this was torture.

  Anxious to change the subject, Ian said, “You and Miss Douglas…when are the nuptials to be?”

  Malcolm’s eyes darted away for a telling second. “Ah, she said she needed more time for her trousseau. We do not yet have a date.”

  “Malcolm…”

  “What do you say to a round of golf at Bruntsfield while the weather is still good?”

  * * *

  Of course Lucy had heard of golf. She’d just never played it. “Come on, Lucy,” Calvin said. “You will enjoy it.”

  Calvin spent an exorbitant price for some tiny balls that they were to hit through the grass and land them into little holes that were scattered about. So far, Uncle Archie’s score was the best.

  Lucy decided she’d rather play croquet on the lawn at Stillwater House.

  “I should have stayed at home with Meg,” she said, lining up the ball with the hole. “How can anyone possibly…”

  “You need to hold the club this way,” Joshua said, coming behind her, slipping his arms down her sides and arranging her hands upon the handle. The heat of his body along her back did nothing to stir her. It felt no different than if her brother had been the one behind her.

  “All right. Let me try now,” she
said, willing Joshua to step away from her.

  She wished she knew what to do about him. It was becoming clearer with every day he spent in Edinburgh that he had come for her. She didn’t really know why, because it was now obvious to Lucy their common affinity for history and the study of antiquities was not love. It was merely camaraderie.

  Lucy realized now that she’d always envied Joshua’s love for her friend, Eleanor. She had yearned for an admirer the way Jessamine and Caroline managed to collect them with ease. She never seemed to know what to say, and she certainly didn’t know how to flirt. Joshua was the easy object of her affections – her infatuation.

  She went to take her shot at the ball, but fumbled clumsily when she saw a familiar figure not even a hundred yards away. Lord Broxburn stood with Lord Kindale at what seemed to be the end of the course.

  “Look, Lucy,” Archie said, “’tis Broxburn and his friend. Kindale, I believe?”

  Lucy nodded, afraid that her voice would fail her. He seemed to see her just as Kindale spoke to him.

  “Calvin, go get Lucy’s ball,” Archie said. “I do not believe this is her game. Besides, we ought to go and speak to Broxburn.”

  A frisson of expectation skittered down Lucy’s spine as she followed her uncle toward Broxburn. Then Joshua put his hand at the small of her back, ostensibly escorting her across the lawn. It was definitely a possessive gesture, since he seemed only to do it when in the presence of the marquess.

  Archie introduced Calvin and Joshua to Lord Kindale, who inquired after Lady Kildrum’s health. “I trust all is well at Craigmuir?” Archie asked after they spoke of Arden.

  “You mean my father? Yes, he is improving,” Broxburn replied.

  Archie nodded, quietly saying, “Very good. Very good.”