Meg Stillwater took her uncle’s arm and then turned to Ian. “Lord Broxburn, you have been here before. Will you tell us about the abbey?”
It was plainly obvious that she was drawing him away from Lucy and Parris. And he allowed her to do so. As much as he would have liked a few minutes alone with Lucy, there was no point. She was far better off with Parris, a man who would take her home to her beloved Berkshire and make her his wife.
Lucy and Parris walked at a fair distance behind him, and Ian tried to concentrate on the things he knew about the abbey while he tried to figure out why he was still here. There was no reason to stay.
“Lucy told us about Craigmuir Castle, my lord,” Meg said. “She was quite taken with it.”
Aye, she had been impressed by the buildings. And Béatrice. Who wouldn’t be?
“She spoke of a building outside the castle walls – a huntsman’s cottage.”
Ian swallowed. It was impossible for him to think of the ghillie’s cottage without remembering the smoldering moments he’d shared there with Lucy. She’d been so pliable in his arms, so responsive. But it was clear she belonged to Parris.
“She has an affinity for ancient things,” Meg said. “It’s almost as though she can hear the voices of those who lived in the distant past.”
“Yes.”
As much as he wanted to glance back and look at her, he knew it would be the worst possible thing for his peace of mind. He did not need to see her with her hand in the crook of Joshua Parris’s arm, or speaking with him in quiet, intimate tones.
When he felt as though he might explode, he decided he’d had enough. He believed he understood the point of Lord Kildrum’s invitation to join them, but there was no ignoring reality. “Kildrum, I am afraid I must take my leave,” he said. “It has been pleasant, but…duty calls.”
Not that there was much to do before the auction on Monday, but he knew it was best to separate himself from Lucy now. It was bad enough spending the past couple of hours watching her with Parris. But no more.
Kildrum looked disappointed, but Ian could not fathom why. Their parting was awkward, but so had been the entire visit at Holyrood. He made a quick farewell and strode away from the abbey ruins.
Lucy should have the life she wanted with the man she’d always loved. She would be close to her family and all her old friends, married to a man whose lineage was pure.
Chapter Twenty-Three
* * *
Lucy and Meg sat together in their aunt’s garden embroidering. Arden had just been taken back to her room to rest and Joshua had gone with Calvin and Archie to play golf.
“You are quiet this afternoon, Lucy,” Meg said.
“I suppose so.”
She’d been thinking about this morning at the palace. About standing arm in arm with Joshua and finding it not nearly as satisfying as it should have been. What was wrong with her?
“Joshua seemed to enjoy Holyrood,” Meg said.
“He loves his antiquities.” Was it possible that he could love her, too, after all those years of devotion to Eleanor Easton? Lucy wondered if he had truly gotten over her.
“Meg, do you think it’s possible to…”
Lucy paused long enough that Meg looked up from her embroidery hoop. “To what, Lucy?”
“Oh, nothing.”
She was beginning to think perhaps what she’d felt for Joshua all these years was not exactly love. She’d certainly cared for him and admired him, but maybe what she’d always wanted was for Joshua to feel for her what he’d felt for Eleanor. Had her feelings been rooted in jealousy for the love he felt for her friend?
“Joshua liked playing golf,” Meg said.
“Yes, I suppose so.”
They worked quietly together for a few minutes before Meg spoke again. “He said his sisters are after him to marry. I believe he would need very little encouragement from you, Lucy.”
Lucy felt tears of frustration burning at the back of her eyes. Everything she’d always wanted was within reach, but she felt so unsure now. “Yes, I know.” Lucy blinked away her tears and put down her embroidery. “Let’s get out of the house for awhile. We can take a walk.”
“All right.”
She knew Meg was looking at her curiously, but she ignored it as they put on their hats and gloves and enlisted a footman named Evin to accompany them.
“Where shall we go?”
“Let’s just wander and see the sights,” Lucy said as Evin took his place several paces behind them to give them privacy but close enough to assist if need be.
There were parks, gardens, and grand houses. The two sisters greeted other passersby as they walked, some of whom Lucy recognized from the events she had attended with Archie.
“You seem quite happy to be here, Meg,” Lucy said as they walked toward a street full of shops.
“I am,” Meg replied, smiling. “I am with my favorite sister—”
“Oh, please,” Lucy said with a laugh. They had three other sisters, and each one was as beloved as the next.
“In a beautiful city where said sister will soon become the fiancée of the man she’s loved for years.”
“He means to propose?” Lucy asked.
“I think he does,” Meg said. “Wouldn’t it be romantic if he proposed at Lady Muirhouse’s ball tomorrow night?”
The thought of it made Lucy’s chest tighten. She should be filled with glee, but she was not.
“Lucy?”
“Oh…Yes, I…”
“You are having second thoughts?”
“Not so much second thoughts,” Lucy said, prevaricating.
“What, then?”
She’d been thinking about this all day. “Do you remember our dancing lessons when we were children, and Calvin always chose Jessamine to be his partner?”
“He did?”
“Yes, he did.” Lucy had idolized her older brothers, and they usually got on well together. Calvin’s slight during dancing lessons when she was ten years old did not mean much any more. “The point is that I was always second best. Even if Jess had turned him down, and he had asked me instead, I would always know I was not his first choice. The whole time we danced, he would be wishing for his preferred partner.”
“And you think that’s the situation with Joshua?”
Lucy was just about to answer when she saw a couple of tall figures riding toward them on horseback.
“Isn’t that Lord Broxburn?” Meg asked.
“Uh, yes, I believe so.” Lucy was not about to tell anyone of her chaotic emotions regarding the Scottish marquess. She’d always been the level-headed sister. The logical one whose emotions remained steady, no matter what the situation.
She did not feel quite like herself these days, however.
Broxburn spotted them and came to the side of the road where Lucy and Meg stood. He and his companion dismounted and bowed to her and Meg. “How do you do, ladies,” Broxburn said. He turned to Lucy. “Miss Stillwater, I believe you know Mr. Ferguson.”
Lucy nodded, greeting Ferguson, who seemed preoccupied.
“Hello, Lord Broxburn,” Meg said. “We came out for a walk and found ourselves here.”
“Allow me to escort you,” Broxburn said.
Ian indicated that Ferguson and the footman should take the horses to Kildrum House, leaving Lucy and Meg to walk with him.
“I hope all is well, my lord?” Lucy asked.
“What? Oh, aye. Just a bit of family trouble.”
“Not your father, I hope?”
He shook his head. “No. It is news of my aunt. Something I must deal with sooner, rather than later.”
Lucy’s chest relaxed, but she was unbearably warm all over, and her legs felt weak. All her nerves were on edge.
They walked to a park on the far side of the street with gorgeous flower beds and paths for walking. There were several tables and chairs, and Broxburn escorted them to one of them. “Wait here and I will get you some tea.”
He
walked back to one of the shops, leaving Lucy alone with her sister. She felt Meg’s speculative gaze.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing,” Meg replied. “I was just thinking…”
Meg said no more, turning to the marquess when he arrived back at their table. “I’ve been enjoying Edinburgh very much,” she said.
“What have you seen besides Holyrood?” he asked.
While Meg and Broxburn spoke of her explorations in the city, Lucy realized she had not seen this side of Broxburn before. He was funny and charming and utterly appealing, yet entirely proper in his manner.
A young man brought a tray with two cups and a pot of tea to their table, and Broxburn sat back and encouraged them to enjoy their drink. The hot liquid was certainly not going to help cool Lucy’s blood which heated even more when her gaze lit upon Broxburn’s strong jaw and the fullness of his lips. She knew how his mouth would feel upon hers – soft and warm, and when she—
“Lord Broxburn! Miss Stillwater!”
Lady Claire approached from behind, interrupting Lucy’s wholly inappropriate reverie. Broxburn stood, but it was obvious he did not remember Claire.
Lucy came to his rescue. “Lord Broxburn, you remember Lady Claire MacNeil, of course. Claire, won’t you join us?”
Claire dismissed her maid and sat down while Broxburn went to request another cup for Claire. Lucy noted the way Claire’s eyes followed his every move.
“Lady Claire,” Meg said, but Claire was slow to turn her attention from Broxburn. “It is a lovely day for a walk, is it not?”
“Oh, uh, yes. We will not have many more before it becomes too cold and rainy.” She turned to Lucy. “Tell me quickly. Has Lord Broxburn been visiting Kathryn Hay?”
“Lady Kathryn? Is she in Edinburgh? I thought her family intended to return home to Aberdeenshire.”
“Oh, no,” Claire said, wringing the delicate handkerchief in her hands. “They are still here. She will probably attend Lady Muirhouse’s ball. And then he will be so distr—”
Broxburn returned and Claire stopped her frantic musings on Kathryn Hay and the ball. She assumed a serene demeanor as Broxburn took his seat again.
Lucy could only stare at Claire for a moment, feeling more than a bit irritated. Claire had no claim on Broxburn, and neither did Kathryn Hay, for that matter. Lady Kathryn was not even interested, although Claire’s attention more than made up for it. In that moment, Lucy did not think she’d ever felt such enmity for another person before.
Just as she was about to say something uncharacteristically unkind, Meg cleared her throat. “Lady Claire, do you always…reside in Edinburgh?”
“Yes, for most of the year,” she said dismissively, turning quickly to Broxburn. “Will we see you at Lady Muirhouse’s ball, my lord?”
Lucy stood abruptly. “We should return home. Our aunt will be asking for us.”
“B-but Lord Broxburn…” Claire said.
He stood. “I do not know if I have been invited, Lady Claire. No one knew I would be in town.”
“Oh, but I am sure—”
“Come, Meg. We really should be going,” Lucy said. “I am sorry we must leave you, Claire. But you know – my aunt…”
Claire appeared dumbfounded by Lucy’s abrupt behavior. Lucy was rather stunned, herself. All she knew was that she had to go before her ire got the better of her. But why she felt so irritated with Claire was a mystery to her. The young woman had been perfectly pleasant up until now. It made no sense, and even Meg looked at Lucy curiously.
* * *
Ian considered Lucy’s abruptness with Lady Claire and tried to puzzle her out. She had not wanted to talk about Lady Muirhouse’s ball…at least, not with Claire. Could she have been jealous of Claire’s attention to him?
It certainly seemed she’d attempted to prevent Claire from speaking to him, but she might have been piqued with Claire for some other reason.
He glanced at her lovely profile and felt the brush of her skirt against his leg as they walked. He would not have believed it was possible to feel such an intense arousal just by walking beside a woman. But that was exactly his predicament as he escorted Lucy and her sister from the park, heading in the direction of Kildrum House.
She was staggeringly beautiful, and he could have watched her sip tea for hours, though he’d have preferred a different, far more carnal use of her mouth…
He took a deep breath and focused his attention on things in the street – a horse-driven, barrel-laden cart. Then a shopkeeper sweeping the pavement outside his store. They weren’t nearly as alluring as the woman beside him, but they helped him shift his mind away from dangerous territory. He reminded himself that Lucy had a legitimate suitor, one who had traveled some four hundred miles to be with her. And she had not given any indication that he was unwelcome.
“I am sure you can secure an invitation to Lady Muirhouse’s ball, Lord Broxburn,” Meg said. “That is…if you want one.”
“I shall consider it,” he replied, though he did not care to spend an evening watching Parris dance with Lucy. Their tour of Holyrood was more than enough for him.
Lucy said nothing, not a word to encourage him.
“I am surprised your brother and Mr. Parris are not with you today,” he said. Was it too much to hope that Lucy preferred it that way?
“They decided to try their hands at golf again,” Meg remarked.
“It is an addictive pastime for some.” He turned to Lucy. “Did you enjoy it?”
“I do like walking outdoors, so yes – I enjoyed that part of it.”
Aye, she did enjoy being outside. He’d seen that at Craigmuir, along with her passion for history.
He wondered if she’d told her sister of her encounter with Béatrice. Most people would be skeptical of a story about seeing ghosts, but it was obvious that the two sisters were close and had a lot of respect for each other.
“Perhaps you will play again while the weather is still good.”
Lucy nodded.
“There is to be an auction Monday,” he said.
“Yes?” she said.
“The treasure,” he replied and then looked past her to Meg. “Miss Stillwater, your sister discovered some extremely valuable items in the castle during her stay at Craigmuir – items we never would have known existed were it not for her interest in…antiquities.”
“How fascinating,” Meg said, looking at Lucy. “You went snooping around Lord Broxburn’s home?”
“Actually, it is not my home,” he said. “It is the residence of my father, the Duke of Craigmuir.”
“Oh! I had no idea,” Lucy said. “I thought—”
“No, my home is Pentland Manor, one of the ducal estates. It is several hours’ ride from Craigmuir.”
“Then you were only at the castle—”
“Because of my father’s illness. And estate affairs that needed to be addressed.”
“You have had some upheaval in the past few weeks, then,” Meg said.
More than she could possibly know. “Aye. But things seem to be resolving now. My father is improving, and problems with his estates are well in hand.”
As he spoke, Duncan Munro exited a very expensive tailor’s shop just ahead, and started walking toward them. Ian gritted his teeth. Duncan could not possibly have any business in such an extravagant place.
“Ah, Cousin Broxburn!” he said, grinning like a fool. “Miss Stillwater.”
Lucy cast a quick, questioning glance at Ian.
“Duncan,” Ian said. He wished he could turn around and lead Lucy and her sister away. But he would not create a scene on the street. There were too many people about who would observe signs of the rift between them.
“I do not believe I know this beautiful lady,” Duncan said, referring to Lucy’s sister.
“Miss Stillwater, may I present my cousin, Duncan Munro. Duncan, Miss Meg Stillwater. We must be on our way.” The words rushed out of his mouth and barely followed the most basic etiquet
te. He took Lucy’s arm and started walking away, certain that Meg would keep up.
Duncan fell into step beside Meg. He leaned forward. “I am pleased to meet you, Miss Stillwater. And to see you again, Miss Lucy.”
“Don’t you have something else to do, Duncan?” Ian asked without masking his irritation.
“No, not really,” his cousin replied with a calculating grin.
Ian did not know how to shake him loose. He’d told Lucy to stay clear of him, but neither sister knew how vile his cousin could be. Ian didn’t want them anywhere near Duncan.
“How is your aunt, Miss Stillwater?” he asked.
“She is still recovering from her injuries,” Lucy replied. “Doing a little better every day.”
“I am so glad to hear it,” Duncan said, sounding magnanimous, as though he had any right to such a noble sentiment.
The longer they stayed in Duncan’s company the more Ian feared Lucy and Meg would get the impression that he was an acceptable companion. Which could not be further from the truth.
“I am sure you have other things to do, Duncan,” Ian said.
“Well, you know how it is, old man,” Duncan said. His smile was calculated to charm the Stillwater ladies. “A gentleman must keep up his appearance to please the ladies.”
“At MacDougal’s?”
Duncan had the audacity to look past the women and wink at him. Ian felt a sudden pounding behind his eyes.
“Did you know, ladies, that Broxburn was born in Ireland?”
Lucy and Meg looked at Ian.
“That has nothing to do with anything, Duncan,” Ian said harshly. “Why don’t you go on your wa—”
“In an out of the way village in Louth,” Duncan said. “No one has ever explained why he was not born at the Craigmuir estate in Armagh.”
“And it does not matter one way or the other, Duncan,” Ian said firmly. “Now, if you will excuse us, I don’t believe we are in need of your company any longer.”
Duncan stopped, and the wide grin he displayed made Ian want to strike him right here in the street. “I will bid you adieu, then, ladies. Cousin.”
Lucy and Her Scottish Laird Page 21