The Highlander and the Wallflower

by Michelle Willingham

  ‘I’ve only just arrived, but I am, aye,’ Locharr agreed. It was clear that the laird was trying to adapt to his surroundings, but he appeared uncertain. He glanced at Dalton as if wondering what to do now.

  ‘Good.’ The duchess smiled. ‘There is someone I’ve been wanting you to meet. Forgive me, Lady Regina, but I must steal the laird away for just a moment.’

  ‘It’s no trouble at all,’ Lady Regina murmured. In fact, she seemed rather relieved by it.

  The laird bowed to her and said, ‘I will only be a moment.’ Then he turned back to Dalton. ‘You should ask the lady to dance.’

  He already had, but he recognised the look of discomfort on Regina’s face. It was as if all the attention overwhelmed her, and she was eager to be away from everyone’s notice.

  As soon as the laird had gone, she murmured, ‘Thank you, but I still don’t wish to dance,’ she murmured. She opened her fan, as if the ballroom had suddenly become unbearably hot. Though she tried to mask it, she appeared miserable. Dalton refused to stand back and ignore her.

  ‘Are you all right, Lady Regina?’ Dalton kept his voice calm and quiet. He wanted her to know that he was still her friend, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. But though she tried to smile, he could see through her mask of emotions.

  ‘I am fine,’ she remarked.

  He didn’t believe that at all. ‘Liar,’ he said beneath his breath. ‘You’d rather be anywhere than here.’

  She jerked to surprise. ‘Why would you say that?’

  He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘You’d rather be sitting on a stone bench in the morning sunlight, with a puppy in your lap.’

  At that, her frozen expression seemed to thaw a little. ‘Wouldn’t everyone prefer that?’

  ‘I think so, yes.’ He offered her his arm. ‘Are you certain you don’t want to dance?’

  ‘Very certain. I would rather watch from the shadows.’

  ‘No matter how hard you try, you will never be a wallflower, Lady Regina,’ he said quietly. ‘There is not a man here who doesn’t notice you.’

  Or desire you, he thought.

  It wasn’t only her beauty that attracted notice—it was her vulnerability and shyness. While some thought it was hauteur, he knew better. And he would try any means of making her smile.

  ‘I’ll go and bring you lemonade, if you’d like.’

  ‘I don’t like lemonade at all,’ she admitted. ‘I find it too sour.’

  ‘Then perhaps something else to drink,’ he offered. Before she could refuse, he bowed and took his leave. As he walked towards the refreshment table, he paused and saw the duchess returning from another room. She had brought Lachlan to meet another guest, and Dalton’s curiosity was aroused. He waited until Her Grace was gone, and then slipped into the narrow hallway. It seemed that the laird was meeting with someone in the music room, and he took a few cautious steps closer. Soon, he overheard the voice of a woman.

  ‘You have to go back, Locharr.’ The woman’s voice held yearning, as if she didn’t truly want the laird to leave.

  ‘I ken that.’ But Lachlan’s voice held a gentleness that caught Dalton’s attention. The laird genuinely cared about this woman, and he sounded as if he had no desire to leave.

  A sudden flare caught him with the realisation that the duchess had brought this woman to Locharr in secret, because she did not want anyone else to see her. Who was she? And why was the laird speaking as if he held affection towards her?

  ‘Don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be, Lachlan,’ the woman said. There was no doubting the emotion in her voice. And though Dalton wanted to know who she was, he didn’t dare show his face. Instead, he remained hidden from view and waited until the laird emerged from the room. Locharr didn’t see him, but the expression on his face was of a man who was grimly accepting his duty.

  It sounded as if the laird didn’t want to marry Lady Regina. Yet, this conversation was a farewell, not a secret liaison. And for a brief moment, Dalton sympathised with his friend.

  For he knew exactly what it was to love a woman he couldn’t have.

  Chapter Three

  It was early in the morning when Regina rose. She’d been unable to sleep, worrying about the laird. Though Locharr had been nothing but kind, he was indeed a large man. The thought of sharing a marital bed with him was terrifying, despite trying to convince herself that he would be gentle.

  I cannot do it, she thought. He would crush her with his weight, bringing back the vicious memories.

  There was no sense in trying to push back the fear, so she abandoned all thoughts of going back to sleep. With the help of her maid, she donned a long-sleeved blue morning gown with a high waist, embroidered with green leaves along the hem. Nell had suggested a looser hair arrangement, but Regina had refused. She wanted it tightly bound, but she had allowed her maid to adorn it with a pearl comb. Then she went downstairs to join her parents at breakfast.

  She went down the first set of stairs but paused on the landing when she saw the door was open to her father’s study. Sometimes he rose early, so she decided to greet him. But after she reached the doorway, she saw that he had already gone. Regina was about to depart when suddenly, she spied something beside the desk on the floor that took her aback.

  It was a handkerchief stained with blood.

  A sinking feeling clutched her stomach, for she immediately thought of his coughing. Papa had never wanted to admit he was ill, but his coughing fits had grown more frequent. Had he even seen a physician? She needed to speak with him, to make him seek help for his ailment. She didn’t want to think about what could happen if his condition continued to go untreated.

  Regina closed her eyes and sat down at the desk, her heart aching at the thought of him being ill. She had grown closer to her father during the past four years, and they had an understanding between them. He loved her and only wanted what was best. She knew that he was only trying to arrange a marriage for her protection, so that no one could ever threaten her again.

  But if Papa was dying, his time might be running out. He had only ever had one wish—for her to marry his best friend’s son, Lachlan. And in doing so, he believed it would keep her safe.

  Tears pricked at her eyes, and the harsh ache in her gut tightened.

  You cannot avoid marriage for much longer.

  She wiped the tears before they could fall and resolved to take care of her father and help him as much as she could.

  Regina was about to leave, when a letter on the desk caught her notice. It was not signed, and the handwriting was scrawled hurriedly. The note demanded three thousand pounds and gave instructions for where to deliver the amount and when.

  She frowned at the letter, wondering if she had read it correctly. Was this a jest or an unpaid bill? It seemed almost unreal to imagine such a demand. Could it be blackmail? Her heartbeat quickened at the thought. Who would do such a thing?

  Her mind slipped back to her father’s questions. He’d wanted to know every detail of her attack before their drive the other day. Was this why? Had someone witnessed Lord Mallencourt entering her house at a late hour, believing that she’d been seduced or ruined? That would explain her father’s desire to marry her off to Locharr. A blackmailer could not destroy her reputation if she were married and living in Scotland, far away.

  A heaviness settled in her stomach as another fear took hold. Or was it something else? Could anyone have witnessed the rest of it? She swallowed hard, feeling queasy at the thought.

  No. She refused to dwell on it, for the attack had been nearly five years ago. Instead, she folded the letter and tucked it into her reticule. She would ask her father about it later.

  When she entered the dining room, her mother was sipping a hot cup of tea. Arabella beamed at the sight of her. ‘Regina, good morning! You look lovely, my dear.’


  ‘Good morning, Mother.’ She chose a seat, and the footman brought her a plate of eggs and sausage. Though she tried to eat, her thoughts remained troubled. She decided to voice her concern. ‘I wanted to ask you...is Papa feeling well?’

  ‘Of course, he is,’ Arabella said brightly. ‘Why wouldn’t he be?’

  But as she looked at her mother’s face, she saw past the words. There were shadows beneath her mother’s eyes, and she appeared pale.

  ‘He has been coughing a lot,’ Regina said. ‘Has he seen a physician?’

  Her mother’s smile faltered, but she tried to dismiss it. ‘It’s just a spring cold. There’s no reason at all to worry.’

  She thought about confronting Arabella about the bloody handkerchief, but it was clear that her mother wanted to deny the truth. Likely, her own fears were preventing her from facing reality. Regina decided to quietly contact a physician and have him examine the earl.

  ‘I am glad,’ she answered. She decided not to mention the note, for it was unlikely that Papa had told her mother. Ned took great pains to avoid upsetting her, for Arabella tended towards dramatic behaviour. Regina didn’t want to imagine how her mother would respond if she knew of the blackmail.

  Her mother finished her tea and regarded her. ‘I heard that Locharr is planning to pay a call upon you this afternoon. It would mean a great deal to your father if you would accept the laird’s proposal.’

  The very thought unnerved her, although she’d known it was coming. She wasn’t at all ready for an engagement. Instead, she preferred friendship between them while they grew reacquainted. ‘Last night was the first time I’ve even seen the laird in years. He’s a stranger to me.’

  ‘To you perhaps, but Locharr’s father was Ned’s best friend,’ Arabella said. ‘Our families aren’t strangers.’ Her mother folded her napkin into a perfect square. ‘And truly, it did seem that the laird was trying to behave like a perfect gentleman last night. Don’t you think?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she said softly.

  But inwardly, she couldn’t help but think, I’m not ready.

  A desperate panic roiled within her at the thought of marriage. She needed to leave the house, to take a few moments to herself. She didn’t dare go alone, but she could ask her friend, Lady Anne, for advice.

  Hurriedly, she finished eating while her mother extolled the praises of Locharr and how it was Regina’s duty to wed him as soon as possible.

  ‘I will allow him to pay a call upon me,’ she promised, ‘but it is too soon to decide upon marriage.’ She stood from the table. ‘I should go. I am meeting with Anne today.’ It was stretching the truth, for her friend had no idea about it.

  Regina made her excuses and ordered a carriage. Then she asked her maid, Nell, to accompany her. Once they were inside, she withdrew the folded paper from her reticule to study it. She didn’t understand who would threaten her father. No one had seen anything that night, she was certain. The only witness had been their elderly footman, Frederick, who had died two years ago. No, the footman would never have betrayed them. He had worked in their household since her grandfather had been alive.

  And Frederick had done everything in his power to help them.

  ‘Is something wrong, Lady Regina?’ Nell asked. The maid’s expression grew concerned, but Regina would never share the details with her. Although the young girl had proven herself trustworthy since she’d been hired a year ago, Regina had no intention of sharing her father’s troubles.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ she said, managing a smile. They continued driving through the city streets until they reached Anne’s house on the outskirts of Mayfair. Her father, Lord Blyton, had died six years ago, and her mother, Judith, had not remarried. Although Lady Anne was an earl’s daughter, she had not received any offers of marriage, due to her modest dowry and the fact that she had four older sisters, three of whom were unmarried.

  Regina had offered to help her, but Anne was proud and refused to accept money or gowns. Her friend had the obstinacy of a stone wall and was determined to stand on her own feet.

  As they arrived, she saw Anne walking down the stairs with her mother and two of her sisters. The look on her friend’s face was dogged, as if she were trying to avoid an execution.

  When the driver opened the door to her carriage, Regina stepped out. Offering a light smile, she said, ‘Did you forget our outing today?’

  Anne’s face brightened. She spoke to her mother, and before Regina could say a word, her friend had seized her hand. ‘I am so terribly sorry, Lady Regina! I had quite forgotten. Do forgive me.’ She squeezed her hand tightly in a silent warning not to undermine her. ‘Mother, I must go with Regina, for we made our plans a week ago.’

  Lady Blyton gave a weak smile and waved them on. Regina lifted her hand in farewell, and within moments, Anne spoke to the driver, then climbed inside the carriage.

  ‘You are the answer to a prayer, my friend.’ She sighed in thanksgiving and settled back against the seat. ‘I was very nearly trapped into paying calls. Mother had a list of friends, and I thought I was about to perish of boredom.’

  ‘Where are we going?’ Regina asked. ‘I saw you speaking to the driver.’

  ‘We are going to enjoy ices at Lady Hardwicke’s,’ Anne informed her. ‘That is, if you have your pin money. And I will entertain you with all the latest gossip.’

  ‘I do have money,’ she agreed, knowing that Anne had no money of her own for ices. But she didn’t mind paying, though her friend might protest at first.

  ‘Wonderful. I shall sit and watch you enjoy the ices while I regale you with delicious tales.’ Anne beamed at the idea. ‘I know something about your laird.’ She offered a wicked smile and a wink.

  ‘You can tell me more after we arrive,’ Regina said. ‘I will arrange a table for us.’

  * * *

  They arrived at Lady Hardwicke’s, and there were several small tables with ladies seated together. Against the opposite wall, there were a few gentlemen, and the sight of a taller man gave her pause. It was Lord Camford, wearing a bottle-green coat with a cream waistcoat and buff trousers. He was bringing a fruit-flavoured ice to a fresh-faced blonde debutante. The young woman smiled brightly at him as he joined her.

  A flare of irrational annoyance caught her, though it was foolish. Camford could spend time with whomever he wanted. It wasn’t jealousy, she told herself. They were friends, and it was better if he found a young woman to court. As she stole a quick look at them, she saw that the debutante was spellbound by him, while the viscount remained polite. A curious ache caught up within her gut, almost a faint note of regret—and she couldn’t say why.

  ‘You’re not listening to a word I’ve said, are you?’ Anne interrupted.

  ‘I’m sorry. I was distracted,’ she said. ‘You said something about a knight you met?’

  ‘Yes. Sir Roger is very handsome, though he doesn’t say much. He seems shy,’ Anne said, sighing with happiness when she spoke of him. Regina smiled, and a moment later, a young man delivered a variety of ices—vanilla, strawberry, and lemon—to their table, along with spoons.

  ‘I don’t believe these are ours,’ Regina said. ‘We haven’t ordered yet.’

  ‘They are from Lord Camford,’ the man answered.

  Regina stole a look back, and the viscount smiled at her. What was he thinking, doing such a thing while he sat across from another woman? ‘I am sorry, but I cannot accept these.’

  ‘Yes, we can,’ Anne answered, dipping her spoon into the vanilla ice. She took a hearty bite and said, ‘Oh, dear. Now we cannot send them back.’

  She nearly laughed at her friend’s mischief, though she knew the true reason was that Anne didn’t want her to pay for her ices.

  ‘You should thank him,’ Anne said. ‘It was very kind.’

  ‘He has a young lady as his guest,’ she countered. ‘I would
n’t dream of interrupting them.’ Yet, she couldn’t help but wonder why he had done this. It might have been a whim or a friendly gesture, but it made her slightly uncomfortable.

  She turned her attention back to her friend. ‘Why don’t you tell me the gossip you’ve heard about the laird?’ She needed to concentrate on Lachlan MacKinloch instead of being distracted by Lord Camford.

  ‘Of course. Did you hear about last night when Miss Brown fainted?’

  Regina shook her head. She knew that there had been some sort of commotion, but she hated crowds and had remained against the wall before quietly slipping away to return home.

  ‘You missed quite a scene,’ Anne informed her. ‘After she fainted, the laird tried to help her. Then, Miss Goodson pulled him back and warned MacKinloch that if he touched Miss Brown, he’d have to marry the girl.’

  ‘Who is Miss Goodson?’ She vaguely recalled hearing something about a woman with that surname, but it had been a long time ago.

  ‘She was ruined by scandal years ago and became a governess. That’s the most delicious part,’ Anne said. ‘I heard that she was hired to give the laird lessons in manners. His mother arranged it in Scotland, months ago. Can you imagine?’

  ‘A governess?’ The very idea was shocking. No one would ever hire a governess for a grown man. And if a ruined lady had given him lessons, it made her wonder whether Locharr could be trusted.

  ‘Yes. They returned to London together.’ Anne frowned a moment and added, ‘I’m sure it’s nothing. But they do say he will ask for your hand any day now.’

  Regina took a taste of the lemon ice, trying to avoid an answer. The tart taste mingled with the creamy flavour, though she could hardly enjoy it.

  ‘Are you going to say yes?’ Anne prompted.

  ‘I’d rather wait until I know him better,’ she admitted, even though she knew her father’s illness made that difficult. She was supposed to say yes and be grateful for it. Yet, her mind was in turmoil, between her worries about Papa, the strange note she had found, and the idea of having to marry so soon.