“Miss Stillwater, how do you find our Scottish city?” Lord Kindale asked.
“I find I like it far more than I expected to, my lord,” she replied. “Excepting our accident and my aunt’s injuries, my time in Scotland exceeds my expectations.” Lucy blushed, realizing exactly what she’d said.
Kindale laughed. “Well, I am very glad of that, for I truly hate to hear our fair country disparaged.”
“Oh, no,” Lucy protested. “Never that!”
They all laughed, but Lucy noticed that Broxburn’s smile did not extend to his eyes. He looked away, up toward the city’s castle. Lucy’s heart sank. It was obvious that whatever bond she’d thought was between them did not exist.
They walked past the sixth and final hole – a recent addition, Lucy learned – and off the course. “We won’t go up to the Golf Tavern,” Archie said, “but what do you say we stop in at Fraser’s for a wee dram? Lucy, you’ll be fine there.”
Which meant there would be other ladies present. Lucy could always count on her uncle to think of her.
“Will you be staying long in Edinburgh?” Kindale asked Calvin as they left the course.
Calvin shrugged. “Nothing has been decided. Parris mentioned a ride up to Stirling Castle one of these days. So we’ll do that, and I’d like to see one of your renowned scotch whiskey distilleries.”
Kindale grinned. “I know just the place. It is not far from the city.” He looked at Joshua. “Perhaps you will go down to Craigmuir Castle, too. It is one of the best-kept historical sites in southern Scotland.”
“Oh, but the duke is not well,” Lucy said. “We could not impose more than we already have.” She could see that Broxburn had no interest in dealing with a touring party at his home, whether or not his father was ill. He didn’t look particularly pleased at the suggestion of hosting her family again.
Lucy wished she could ask Broxburn about the treasure, and whether he’d figured a way to use it to solve Craigmuir’s financial woes. Not that she knew anything about such matters, but she was fairly certain one did not trade in jewels and ancient gold doubloons. Or whatever those coins were.
Broxburn barely looked at her. Probably so as not to offend Joshua, who stayed close to her. She wondered why Joshua had not bothered to show any interest in her while they were both conveniently located in Berkshire. Before she’d met the Scottish marquess.
Chapter Twenty-Two
* * *
“How did you enjoy your golf game, Miss Stillwater?” Lord Kindale asked.
“To be honest, I believe lawn bowls is more my game. Or croquet.”
“Miss Stillwater enjoys rooting around old places for ancient artifacts, Kindale,” Broxburn said. “I would venture to say that is more her game than anything else.”
“Ah, yes, and Craigmuir is definitely old and rife with antiques,” Kindale said.
Lucy’s face flushed, and not at the thought of Craigmuir’s antiques. Those encounters in the ancient ghillie cottage and those moments in the grotto haunted her.
Then she remembered Broxburn’s kiss of gratitude just before she left the castle. If her father had been there, or if her uncle had known of Broxburn’s breach of propriety, she would be engaged to him right now. But Lucy did not want a forced marriage. She wanted what her sister Caroline shared with her husband; what her friend Eleanor had with her duke.
Kindale took out his watch. “It has been very pleasant seeing you again, but I regret we must take our leave. Broxburn has an appointment.”
“And Kindale’s fiancée is likely waiting patiently for him,” Broxburn added.
* * *
If Ian’s thoughts returned one more time to the sight of Joshua Parris with his arms around Lucy as she took her shot at Bruntsfield, he was going to kick something. He was pacing in his study, much to the annoyance of Ferguson, who was trying to take care of some of the duke’s neglected correspondence.
“My lord,” Ferguson said from his place at the writing desk. “Shall I write to Reverend Dunbar about the repairs to St. Magnus?”
“What?” Ian asked absently. “Oh. Yes. Ask him to send you an estimate for the roof and stonework.”
“My lord…”
“Aye.”
“You seem distracted since your outing with Lord Kindale. Perhaps I should finish up here while you go on and—”
“Hint taken, Ferguson. I will leave you to your task. Let me know when Boyd arrives.”
He went to his workroom behind the kitchen where he made his own fishing flies from bits of string and thread. Creating the artificial insects usually relaxed him, but not today. He sat on his bench, staring at nothing, thinking about Lucy and her attachment to Parris. And he could not help but consider Duncan’s threats and whether his cousin actually knew anything. He found it incredibly hard to believe the duchess had spoken of her husband’s adultery to Duncan’s mother, even though they’d always been on very friendly terms.
But Duncan obviously knew something.
He jabbed his fingers through his hair, annoyed by his disordered thoughts. It was impossible to put Lucy out of his mind, though he knew that would be best. What he ought to do was leave Edinburgh. It would do him no good to stay here and witness Parris courting Lucy, for they were certain to run into each other now and then, just as they had on the golf course.
Ian needed to finish his business with Boyd and get back to Craigmuir Castle to oversee his father’s recovery. And check on the duchess’s condition. She had been unable to speak since her first stroke. The latest illness left her unable to write, too. So any information about her past – and his – would not be communicated through her. At least, not any more.
He thought again about divulging the truth of his heritage. As much as it had bothered him before, once he’d seen the ghost of Sir Alex, his bastardy no longer stuck in his craw. The entire Craigmuir line was illegitimate. Should he tell Malcolm or his other close friends? Was it a wife’s right to know? Ian could imagine telling Lucy, but…
He put down his work and thought about it. Wouldn’t Lucy be as appalled as any other well-bred woman would be? His father had done the unthinkable by carrying out a stunning fraud. No, he could not tell Lucy. Or any other prospective wife.
The day dragged on, but finally the auctioneer came and showed them the catalog of items for sale and the expected price each one would bring. Boyd had contacted a number of private collectors, and recommended holding back a number of pieces in order to fetch even higher prices for them at a later date. Ian agreed.
“This is Persian gold, my lord,” Boyd said of the coins. “Do you have any idea how your ancestors came into possession of it?”
“Possibly from the Crusades. There might be some documentation at Craigmuir,” he said, though he did not know if that was true. It would be quite interesting if MacAdams managed to turn up some clues about the origins of the treasure. “My father’s steward is looking into it.”
Ian knew very little of Sir Alexander Gordon, but according to legend, the knight had escorted Béatrice to Scotland from her home in France. If the treasure had been part of Béatrice’s dowry – which would have been exorbitant in any era – Ian did not understand why it had been hidden and presumably forgotten. And if it had belonged to a Craigmuir crusader, he could not fathom any good reason to hide it away, only to be forgotten over the centuries.
However, he was quite glad it had.
The following morning, Ian sent Ferguson to Brodie House, north of Edinburgh, to check on its condition. He had not been there in years and wanted to make sure the place wasn’t falling down. He could not trust Duncan to be an adequate steward of his mother’s home. “Meet with my aunt if you can, and see if she has any needs beyond what Duncan has told us. But do not make any promises.”
Ian didn’t owe Duncan anything. He might be a cousin, but had done absolutely nothing to deserve any honor or consideration. The duke had been generous to a fault, continuing to support his nephew after his brother’s death. He’d
paid for Duncan to attend the best schools, and even offered to purchase an army commission for him. Failing that, he’d arranged a stewardship for him in one of Scotland’s great houses. Fortunately for that family, Duncan had declined.
He’d also declined the duke’s influence in getting him into the banking and legal professions, both of which were quite rampant in Edinburgh. But Duncan was a true wastrel. He did not even take care of the Brodie property. The only subjects he’d mastered during his years at school were drinking and whoring. And now blackmail.
“I shall leave immediately, my lord,” Ferguson said, “after I answer these.” He handed Ian several invitations for social events over the next few days. Ian thought about which ones might garner Lucy’s interest, when he came across a note from Lord Kildrum.
“We will be attending touring Holyrood Palace tomorrow morning ~ Thought you might like to join us.”
It was not a formal invitation and did not require a reply, and Ian had a suspicion that Lord Kildrum had an ulterior motive for sending the note. Was it to thwart Parris’s courtship of Lucy? Or did he have some other purpose in mind?
* * *
“You look tired, Lucy,” Meg said. “We should go to bed.”
Lucy nodded. Yes, she was tired, for her sleep last night had been interrupted by dreams of lovemaking with Broxburn, when nothing else mattered but the feel of his mouth on hers, and the quickening of desire deep within her body. She wanted more than just his kiss of gratitude, or whatever it had been that day in the Craigmuir library. She wanted his hands on her. And she knew it was wrong.
“Do you want to go on that tour of Holyrood with Uncle tomorrow?” Meg asked as they prepared for bed.
“Of course,” she said, turning her mind to practical matters. “It’s one of the oldest abbeys in Scotland, built around the same time as Craigmuir Castle, I believe.”
Meg laughed. “I know I needn’t have asked you. Joshua will probably be standing outside the carriage waiting for us an hour before it’s time to leave.”
“Mmm.”
“Mmm? That is all you have to say?”
Lucy looked up at her sister, shrugging.
“I would have thought…” Meg frowned. “When Joshua’s sister convinced him to come to Edinburgh with us, Mama and I believed you would be thrilled.”
“Thrilled that he had to be talked into coming?” Lucy said with a sigh. “For most of my life I’ve only wanted to be Joshua’s wife.”
“And here he is. You have his attention now.”
“Now.”
Meg looked at her curiously. “Now? Yes, now. He missed you.”
Was that how it worked, Lucy mused. All she’d needed to do was go away for a few weeks and Joshua would realize what she meant to him?
That had not happened when she’d gone to London with her mother and sisters. Either time. Perhaps he’d still held out hope that Eleanor would return home from Italy and fall into his arms after her unexpected breakup with Beckworth.
Was it wrong of Lucy to want to be her beau’s first choice? Would his attention be focused solely on Lucy when he kissed her? Or on the woman he could not have?
Perhaps she was being unfair. Joshua was not some wayward youth who would pine away forever for an impossible prize. He was an affable, clear-headed gentleman who would make an excellent husband. Lucy did not know why her heart and mind should be filled with such conflict over something she’d yearned for since she was nine years old.
“I should write Mama tomorrow,” Meg said, “and tell her how well you seem. With Joshua.”
Lucy nodded.
“Perhaps I’ll wait until after our visit to Holyrood. I’m sure there will be a great deal to tell her about that.”
“No doubt,” Lucy said quietly.
“Uncle Archie says you quite fell in love with Craigmuir Castle,” Meg remarked as Lucy blew out the candle and they climbed into bed.
“I did.” Lucy was glad of the diverting subject, even though it brought to mind the one man she did not want to think about.
“Archie said it is of the Norman era, and quite spectacular.”
Lucy nodded. “A lot of it dates from then – the wall, the keep, the towers – but there have been many additions over the centuries.”
“Did it feel like a…I don’t know…like a home?”
Of course it did. The realization that it hardly felt any different from Stillwater House stunned her. “Yes. I…I did feel quite at home there.” She looked through the darkness at Meg. “It’s haunted, too.”
“No. Honestly?”
“Yes. And I even saw the ghost,” Lucy said.
“Tell me!”
She described Béatrice in detail but left out her experience in the library. That was Broxburn’s tale to tell if he ever wished to speak of it.
Meg spoke again, yawning. “I wish I could have seen it.”
They went to sleep then, waking the following morning after a night of late summer rain. There was a chill in the air, just like the kind Lucy used to feel in Berkshire when autumn was coming.
“The air feels so much like home,” Lucy said to her sister.
“Excuse me?” Meg appeared dumbfounded. “It feels like home?”
“What?”
Meg looked puzzled. “We were all so certain you might actually expire when Father allowed Arden and Archie to drag you up here. And now…?”
“Oh. Well, I…” She supposed she had felt that way. “I was worried about Mama. And upset that I would not see Samuel and Calvin when they came home.”
Meg laughed. “And then there was Joshua…”
Lucy replied with barely a nod.
They dressed and started down to breakfast, but Meg stopped her at the bottom of the stairs before going into the dining room. “Lucy, when we’re at Holyrood, I’ll make sure to divert Uncle so that you and Joshua can be alone for a time.”
“What about Calvin?”
“Oh, I doubt Calvin will be joining us,” she remarked.
They went into the breakfast room where Calvin and Joshua mentioned the possibility of trying a round of golf after they returned home from Holyrood. “I am looking forward to exploring the castle and abbey ruins, though,” Joshua said to Lucy. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
“Not I,” Calvin said. “I believe I will find a more invigorating diversion this morning. I do believe the whiskey distillery is calling my name.”
Lucy looked at Meg, who smiled and winked.
* * *
As the carriage took them to the opposite end of the city, Lucy knew the visit to Holyrood Palace was the perfect distraction. She did need time alone with Joshua to rekindle the feelings she’d always held for him.
“I think you will enjoy the palace, Lucy,” Archie said. “And now that the ground is drying nicely, we might take a turn around the abbey afterwards.”
Lucy had made use of her uncle’s library and done some reading on the history of the palace. It was all so romantically intriguing – Queen Mary’s tumultuous life in Scotland had been played out to a great extent in this palace.
Joshua smiled at her from the bench opposite, and Lucy felt a vague pull of the attraction she used to feel. She realized then that everything would be all right.
They arrived and alighted from the carriage and went inside. A guide met them and walked them through the main floor. He pointed out items of interest until they reached a grand staircase where a tall, familiar figure stood as though waiting for Lucy’s party to arrive.
“Lord Broxburn!” Meg said, her surprise equal to Lucy’s at the sight of the man who appeared all too frequently in her thoughts.
He stood at the foot of the stairs as though he belonged there, and Lucy’s heart tripped in her chest. Everyone greeted him, and their guide quickly took control again. “This way, ladies and gentlemen. We will continue our tour upstairs.”
Joshua stayed by her side, and Lucy noticed Meg attempting to draw their uncle and Lord Broxburn away. But neithe
r man was to be diverted from the group. Lucy could not say whether she was pleased or annoyed, but she found it difficult to take her eyes off Broxburn.
They entered Queen Mary’s bedchamber, and Lucy felt a chill. So much had happened here and in the adjoining room, where Mary’s secretary had been abducted and murdered by her husband.
“Lord Darnley had appeared to be the perfect husband when the queen married him,” the guide said. “But he turned out to be the worst possible choice.”
Lucy knew the story of the queen’s womanizing husband, but seeing the place where his men had found the queen’s secretary and dragged him away to kill him, made her tremble. The queen should have chosen more wisely, and not been swayed by Darnley’s polished manner.
How easy it was to make a mistake.
* * *
Lucy’s fresh beauty made Ian’s mouth go dry. She was lovely in a gown the color of a ripe peach, her eyes glittering with interest as she asked questions of the guide.
Ian did not know why Kildrum had invited him to join them. Lucy was quite taken up with Parris, so she could not possibly be the reason. Much as he’d hoped.
He saw her skin pale as they went into Queen Mary’s anteroom, the place where David Rizzio had been ambushed and taken out to be killed. Her hand went to her throat as she listened to the guide’s recounting of the murderous events.
And then she looked at Joshua…frowning slightly.
Ian did not know why. They were an admirable couple, handsome and cultured. It was unlikely there were any skeletons in Joshua Parris’s wardrobe.
They continued exploring the palace, and when they were finished, Kildrum suggested they go out to the ruins of the abbey since it had turned so sunny and pleasant.
The grounds were fairly crowded, likely because of the beautiful day – one of the last before the chill of autumn set in. Ladies with parasols walked alongside their gentlemen escorts, moving between the ancient pillars that once had held up the sacred walls of the abbey. The building had been constructed in the same era as Craigmuir Castle, but had been abandoned and left to go to ruin over the centuries. Ian’s ancestors might have descended from a bastard line, but at least they’d kept their home intact.
Lucy and Her Scottish Laird Page 20