The Heart Queen

by Patricia Potter

  “Aye, my lady?”

  “You are to stay on the top step and watch for the marquis. When he approaches the stairs and winks at you, you come for me.”

  “The marquis? Winking?”

  “Aye,” Janet said, trying to keep amusement from her voice. The marquis was winking quite often this days.

  Lucy bobbed, then disappeared out the door, and Janet sat down to wait for her entrance.

  Neil felt a moment of amusement. Reginald was red-faced, his silk waistcoat rumpled and his boots mud-splattered. The honorable Reginald Campbell must have really hurried to get to Braemoor.

  But he had a look of absolute triumph on his face.

  “Reginald,” Neil said. “So good of you to come. His Grace the Duke of Cumberland has also honored me with his presence.” He allowed that to penetrate for a moment. He had Cumberland’s ear. “Where is your lovely wife?”

  “She could not come,” Reginald said bitterly with an accusing look at him. “We did not have a carriage and she cannot ride that far.”

  “Mayhap I should have sent it back to Lochaene,” Neil said musingly.

  Reginald visibly tried to control his anger. “And my sister-in-law?” he asked spitefully. “She is well?”

  Neil waited a fraction of an instant longer than necessary. “Aye,” he said and started to turn around.

  “I want to see her. And my nephew.”

  “My dear Campbell, first you must refresh yourself.”

  “Where is my sister-in-law?”

  “She is in mourning,” Neil said airily.

  “Is she in the Tower house?”

  “I am not sure what you mean.”

  “It seems plain enough. Is my sister-in-law here? I want to see her.”

  His voice was rising steadily. Neil saw faces turn toward him.

  “I am sorry. You cannot.”

  “You have no right.”

  “I have every right. You are in my home.”

  “And the countess is my sister-in-law,” Reginald countered. “Her well-being is my concern.” His gaze went around the room. “I am going to ask Cumberland to demand that you produce her.”

  “No!” Neil said with alarm.

  A quietly triumphant look came into Reginald’s eyes. “It is my right as the man in the family.”

  “She is in mourning,” Neil protested with, he hoped, desperation in his voice.

  Reginald ignored him and started to push through the crowded revelers. He found Cumberland in a corner with several men.

  “Your Grace,” Reginald said as he bowed.

  “Campbell,” the duke acknowledged with evident displeasure.

  “I must talk to you,” Reginald plodded on stubbornly.

  Neil sighed audibly, then said, “Let us go into the library.”

  Cumberland’s displeasure obviously deepened, but he nodded curtly.

  Neil paused at the steps and looked up. Lucy was there. Good. He winked.

  He led Cumberland and Reginald into his study. He went to a decanter and poured a glass of brandy for Cumberland, then one for himself. He pointedly ignored Reginald. Then he went and opened the curtains which looked out over the gardens.

  He suggested a chair to Cumberland, one to the side of the window. Then Neil moved in front of the window, positioning himself so that Reginald’s gaze would be directed toward the window.

  “What is it, Campbell?” Cumberland asked impatiently.

  “I want to see my sister-in-law, and Braemoor refuses to produce her.” Reginald’s voice sounded like a whine. He seemed to sense that. He drew himself up stiffly. “I am responsible for her.”

  Cumberland turned to Neil.

  “She is in mourning,” Neil said.

  “I think she is dead.” Reginald blurted it out.

  Cumberland gave Campbell a puzzled look. “Why would you think that?”

  “Because … because …” Reginald stuttered.

  Puzzlement turned to impatience. Cumberland frowned. “Do you have proof for that kind of accusation?”

  “Just ask him where my sister-in-law is. She is dead, I tell you. The proof is … she is not here,” Reginald said. “And it is my duty to protect my nephew.”

  Neil raised an eyebrow and looked out. Reginald’s eyes followed him. A slender figure walked across the garden, the gauze overdress flowing in the wind, then she turned and looked directly into the library.

  Reginald turned white. “It cannot be. ’Tis a specter.”

  Neil looked out. “I see nothing.”

  “It is Janet. But she is dead.” His hands were shaking.

  “Why do you think she is dead?” Neil asked, his brows knitting together in puzzlement.

  Reginald took a step back. “She is dead, I tell you. He said …”

  “Who said what?” Neil said.

  Reginald looked up and suddenly realized what he’d said. His gaze turned toward Cumberland whose face had turned to ice.

  “Speak, man,” Cumberland said. “Who said the countess was dead?”

  “I … I … was …” Reginald’s face fell.

  “You believed the countess was dead. Why?”

  Neil looked outside. She was gone.

  “It was a specter, I tell you.” Reginald protested. “Ask to see her,” he pleaded.

  Neil stiffened. “The countess said someone shot at her a week or more ago, but she told only me. No one else knew.”

  Cumberland stared at Reginald. “No one else could have known unless it was you who shot at her, or someone on your behest.”

  Reginald was desperate now. “The Black Knave. It was the Black Knave. He threatened me … he …”

  Cumberland looked at Neil. “Get my officers. I want this man under arrest.”

  Neil hesitated. “Do you really believe …”

  Reginald was trembling now. “I … did nothing.”

  “Aye,” Cumberland said in answer to Neil’s question.

  Neil left the room to fetch the officers. He couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for Reginald and his confusion, the same pity he would feel for a rabid wolf.

  The arrest of a Campbell only heightened the success of the ball. Guests stayed until dawn. Neil had breakfast served on the morning after the last ball he hoped he would ever hold.

  Cumberland left at midday, his prisoner bound on his own horse. His Grace had checked the saddlebags and found some interesting items, including a pistol, a suit of black clothes, a jack of spades and the queen of hearts.

  As soon as Reginald had seen the items, he knew exactly what had happened, and he started to claim that he had been duped.

  His words to Cumberland in Braemoor’s library, though, had convicted him.

  Janet had come down to watch them ride away. Reginald had turned and seen her, and despair had filled his face.

  The last guest left by noon.

  “What will happen to him?” Janet said as they went up to his room.

  “Do you care?”

  “Aye,” she said. “I find I do.”

  “I will see whether I can convince Cumberland to transport him,” he said. “Cumberland can prove attempted murder, but not that he is the Black Knave.” He grinned. “In any event, I want the Knave to live on.”

  “And Reginald’s family. Louisa? The baby?”

  “I will make sure they have enough money to live well but quietly in Edinburgh,” he said. “Along with Marjorie. I do not want any of them at Lochaene.” He hesitated, then added, “But that is your decision. Not mine.”

  “How can I ever thank you?” she said.

  “Your safety is sufficient thanks.”

  They were at the top of the stairs, their rooms in opposite directions. Servants were busy cleaning up the last remnants of the ball which, she knew, would be discussed for years to come.

  She took his hand and led him into the nursery. Clara was changing Colin’s diapers. She curtseyed, with a smile on her face. “Lucy and Kevin are with the lasses, fetching roses,” she
said. “I thought ye might like some sleep.”

  “Aye,” Janet said. “But first I had to see my big lad and mayhap we can take them all out to the loch on a picnic later this afternoon. I have not spent much time with them.” She looked up at Neil. He nodded with a smile.

  Janet leaned over and kissed Colin and took over from Clara, finishing the job and lifting him up. He put his small arms around her neck, giving her a big hug. “You are safe now, my lad,” she whispered into his ear.

  He pulled away and looked at Neil, then held out his hands for him, too.

  Janet watched as he took Colin gingerly, then with more assurance. He grinned at the lad, and Colin grinned back. A bit of male acknowledgment, she thought wistfully. She did not know what would happen now. Whether Neil could overcome his fears enough to make her part of his life, or whether she would return to Lochaene.

  That had been what she wanted. Had it not? To be her own mistress, to have the freedom of a man. She could have that now. Neil had just made it possible.

  So why was she not elated?

  The loch looked beautiful in the midday sun. The rays bounced off its surface, spreading what looked like golden trails across the dark blue surface.

  Annabella rode with her. Colin rode with Neil, and the two oldest lasses rode their own ponies. They had been riding daily, and were good little riders, but Neil had fixed leads to their ponies.

  It was their first expedition on the ponies and their excitement was catching. Janet realized how much they had been neglected in the past week, and she had ordered a particularly tasteful supper. There were roasted chickens and tarts and pastries. There had been much to choose from after the ball.

  She and Neil had had three hours’ sleep—enough, she thought, to sustain her until tonight. More important than anything, though, was giving the children a sense of freedom and joy. And being with them. She had missed her time with them.

  They stopped at a spot above the loch, the spot where he had taken her before. It was far enough from the water to be safe for Colin. Neil lifted Colin down, then dismounted and took their lunch and blanket from the saddle, then helped each of the lasses dismount while Janet lowered Annabella. He came over to her and caught her in his arms. They were not quite steady, and she knew he felt the same heated reaction as she.

  She had to force herself to step back. She stood next to him and looked down at the loch below. The dreary weather of yesterday was gone. The sun was bright in a cloudless sky and a gentle breeze brushed the fields of wild heather.

  The children spread out, Annabella and Rachel playing with a ball as Grace played with Colin. Janet and Neil spread out a blanket and sat, watching them. Listening to their laughter. Seeing the smiles in their eyes.

  They were happy. Some of the ghosts would persist, Janet knew. But Neil had taken away their fear of men. They would never again flinch when one walked into a room.

  He had given them all so much. She reached out her hand and their fingers intertwined. “I love you,” she said simply.

  His eyes clouded but his fingers tightened around hers.

  “I did not tell you something,” she said. She had planned to wait until she had heard something from the solicitor, but now she knew she must tell him. He had already opened his heart to her, but now she had to give him the same hope that she had.

  He raised an eyebrow in question.

  “I talked to Torquil about your mother,” she said. “He does not remember events the way your uncle described them.”

  He stiffened. For a moment she felt guilt at prying into his past without his knowledge. But she continued on. “He never said anything because he did not know what your uncle had told you,” she stumbled on.

  Still no words, no change in his eyes. His fingers, though, continued to hold onto her as if she were a lifeline. “He … said your mother hit her head. That she was fine until then. And he knew nothing about her mother … being mad. In truth, he believes she died of a cancer.”

  A muscle worked along the side of his tightened jaw.

  “I … I wrote your solicitor and asked him to make queries,” she said. “I should have asked you first, but I … did not want to … raise your hopes.”

  “Have you heard back?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  He released her hand and stood, his eyes going to the loch. Her heart shriveled as she saw the naked pain sweep across his face. He did not believe her. Or he resented her going behind his back. But she’d had to tell him. There had been too many secrets, too many misunderstandings, too many lies.

  She stood and went to stand next to him. Silently. Waiting.

  Seconds passed. Then minutes. She heard the children’s loud voices in play, but she was frozen in this one second of time.

  “A lie?” he said at last.

  “Aye, I believe so.”

  His eyes closed, then fluttered open. “So much time … wasted.”

  “We can make up for it,” she said, her hand sneaking over to his and bringing it up to her mouth. She kissed the back of it, thinking how strong it was. And how tender. How infinitely dear.

  No accusations. No questions as to why she had not immediately told him. Neil Forbes, the Marquis of Braemoor, was a unique man, she knew. She had never known such quiet strength.

  He disentangled her hand and for a second she felt he might pull away. Instead, he put his arms around her and pulled her close. “If … it is true,” he said, “will you wed me?”

  Something shifted inside her and she looked up at him, at the face that had never left her dreams, at the eyes that were now glittering with moisture. “Only,” she said, “if you do not put conditions on it. I will wed you, whether true or not.”

  He started to say something, but she put her fingers on his lips, cutting off the words. “For better or for worse, in sickness and in health,” she repeated from memory. “If you are not willing to make those vows, then …”

  She did not finish the sentence. His lips captured hers, tender at first and filled with warmth and yearning. Her free hand went up to his face, a gentle shining avowal of love. She felt his momentary hesitation and she stepped back to look at his face. This had to be his decision.

  Neil did not understand why his eyes were blurred as Janet stood in front of him, her eyes full of love. Her touch had shattered what little resistence he had remaining.

  She was right. He would have taken her if the risk were reversed. How could he do less, even if … even if …

  His soul soared with hope, the hope that she had given him with the love that was unconditional, with the tenderness he’d never known that he’d so wanted.

  “Forever,” he said, knowing it was true, that love was so much stronger than fear. He had been a slow student. “I love you,” he said, his voice breaking. “I have always loved you.” He paused. “You are already my heart queen. Will you be my wife?”

  “Aye,” she said as his lips came hard down on hers, and the kiss was fire and storm, then gentled to a promise.

  They heard a giggle behind them. Then another. Reluctantly, they parted to see four sets of eyes looking up at them, all of them shining with approval.

  “You will have a large family,” she whispered.

  “Aye,” he said, emotion clogging his throat, knowing he had reached the heaven he had never thought could be his.

  Epilogue

  The letter came on the day Janet was to wed Neil.

  The timing, she thought, was like a blessing.

  A messenger brought it at daybreak. It came from Paris via the French smuggler. A scribbled message three months earlier had assured her that Alex and his children had reached the coast of Scotland safely.

  Now she knew that the French ship had also successfully run the English blockade. Alex was safe in Paris.

  She read it again as Lucy wound her freshly washed and scented hair in back of her head. One curl fell down across her shoulder.

  My dearest friend,

 
We are safe in Paris. I hope soon to find families for the children. My own plans are indefinite. A new friend has heard of some opportunities in the diamond trade, and we are considering a partnership—his money and my wit. He believes anyone who eluded the English for more than a year can elude anyone.

  I did not thank our friend properly. I hope you will do that for me, and I expect that some day we will meet again and I can make some repayment.

  I wish you Godspeed in all that you do.

  There was no signature, but she recognized Alex’s bold writing, if not his newfound caution.

  Diamonds. She should have known he would not settle for some ordinary trade. She suddenly smiled at a momentary whimsy. The Black Knave. Neil called her his heart queen. Mayhap Alexander would be the diamond king.

  She looked back in the mirror. Lucy had laced the hair with a string of pearls Neil had given Janet as a wedding gift.

  It was five months since her husband’s death but neither she nor Neil had been willing to wait, particularly after they had learned the truth about Neil’s family. The solicitor had confirmed that Neil’s maternal grandmother had died quite sanely of a cancer. There was no trace of madness in his family.

  She had been willing, in any event, to marry Neil. Nay, not willing, but eager. Together they could conquer anything. She loved him to the very height her soul could reach and never more than when she’d discovered the lengths he had gone to protect her. But because of her husband’s recent death, they had decided to wait. And despite her pledge, he’d also wanted to wait until the solicitor she had contacted had discovered the truth of his heritage. He’d lived with it far too long to be able to discard his fears easily.

  And then there had been much to do. Reginald was, at Neil’s request, transported to America as a bond servant for fourteen years. Janet had not wanted his blood on her hands and both she and Neil knew that transportation—virtual slavery—could be an even worse punishment than a quick death.

  Neil had established a small annuity for Marjorie and Louisa, mostly because of Louisa’s child. The one condition was that they never return to Lochaene.

  Jock had agreed to stay at Lochaene as a steward. Janet and the children had moved back for a while, only to find it a very lonely place. The lasses wanted to be with Neil. She wanted Neil also. Independence was not all she believed it would be, not when her heart lay over the mountains.