Anne’s gaze drifted back to the viscount. ‘Well. It looks as if someone else wants to know you better. Careful, Regina. The viscount is coming this way.’ Then she smiled slyly. ‘Since you’re already promised, do remind him that I am quite available.’
Regina wanted to groan, especially since the young lady was accompanying Lord Camford. His companion was beautiful, and Regina had the sense that she had seen her before. Her blonde hair was artfully arranged with a few curls to frame her face, and she did seem to be much younger. Lord Camford smiled at both women, but his green eyes were fixed upon her. ‘Lady Regina, I hope you enjoyed the ices.’
‘It was kind of you,’ she said carefully, ‘though unnecessary.’ Her attention drifted towards the other young woman in a silent warning to Camford that he had overstepped.
Lord Camford cleared his throat. ‘Forgive me, I’ve neglected introductions. Lady Regina and Lady Anne, this is Miss Amelia Andrews, the youngest sister of Her Grace the Duchess of Worthingstone. I agreed to accompany her on an outing today. Miss Andrews, may I present Lady Regina, daughter of the Earl of Havershire, and Lady Anne, daughter of the Earl of Blyton.’
Miss Andrews smiled warmly. ‘I am glad to meet you. My sister, Toria, was supposed to join us, but she was not feeling well. Lord Camford knew how much I adore ices, and he offered to escort me.’ She glanced at another woman standing a short distance away and added, ‘And my maid, of course.’
‘I am pleased to make your acquaintance,’ Regina answered. Anne murmured a hello as well, and she eyed the viscount with her own undisguised interest.
‘Were you at your sister’s ball last night?’ Anne asked Miss Andrews. The young woman nodded. Then Anne’s expression turned sly. ‘What do you know of Miss Goodson? Did you see her there?’
It wasn’t something Regina wanted to truly know about. She barely listened to the two gossiping women, and Lord Camford eyed her with concern. She was thinking more about the blackmail note and what to do about it.
‘Lady Regina, might I solicit your help?’ the viscount asked. ‘I wanted to ask your opinion on a gift for my father.’
She wasn’t at all certain of it, but she did want to escape the gossip. Miss Andrews and Anne were still chatting, and she stood from the table, following him towards a display of cakes and confections.
‘Miss Andrews is like a younger sister,’ he explained. ‘I escorted her as a favour to the duke and duchess.’
She nodded, and her annoyance eased when she realised he was telling the truth. ‘I thought you were behaving like a wicked rake, courting one woman while sending ices to us.’
His mouth twitched. ‘I may be wicked, but I’m not that bold.’
She sent him a sidelong gaze. ‘I wouldn’t put it past you, Lord Camford.’
‘Not at all.’ He shook his head and then eyed her more closely. ‘Are you well, Lady Regina?’ he asked. ‘Is something troubling you?’
She hesitated, not wanting to say anything at all. It wasn’t his concern, and there was an inherent risk of Camford discovering the truth.
Her father had been so careful to hide the scandal. Years had passed, and no one knew what had happened that night...at least, she didn’t think so.
The demand for money might have no connection at all. But what if it did? She couldn’t seek the answers without help, and she wanted to trust Lord Camford. Perhaps the risk was worth it.
Discreetly, she withdrew the folded note from her reticule and handed it to him. He read it, and his gaze turned serious. ‘Have you spoken to your father about this?’
‘No.’ She turned her attention to the cakes. ‘He’s not well, Camford. His handkerchief had blood on it, and I worry about him. I don’t want to upset him further if I confront him.’
‘Would you like me to find out more for you?’ he asked gently. ‘I could make discreet enquiries.’
‘I would be grateful.’ She ventured a slight smile. It was easier to trust Camford than to ask for help from the laird. Especially if this blackmail involved her own past. ‘I only want to know who sent it.’
Camford placed the folded note inside his waistcoat pocket. ‘I would be glad to help you.’ But although his words were kind, she didn’t miss the worry in his eyes. He looked like a man determined to find answers for her, ready to fight off her foes. And despite the inner warnings of her brain, she trusted him. Camford had been a friend for years, and she believed he would discover the answers.
He glanced around as if suddenly aware of his surroundings. Then he changed the subject by turning his attention to the cakes. ‘What flavour should I buy for my father? Lemon? Strawberry?’
‘Vanilla custard,’ she said. ‘It’s my favourite.’
He ordered two of them and directed the clerk to wrap one of the cakes for him. Then he told her to wrap the second one and send it to her residence.
‘You didn’t need to do that,’ she said softly. ‘But thank you.’
He nodded and accepted the wrapped cake from the clerk. As they started back to the table, Regina admitted, ‘I didn’t realise you were being serious about a gift for your father. I thought you were merely trying to rescue me from gossiping women.’
‘Of course. God forbid I should return home from Lady Hardwicke’s without something for my father. He and my mother used to spend time together here when they were young. It’s a fond memory for him.’
It surprised her that he would be so considerate. Her smile deepened, and she remarked, ‘You are a kind and loyal son.’
There was a faint response that shadowed his face before he masked it. ‘I am indeed. And one who will be travelling soon enough. I’m returning to the estate in Scotland.’ He lowered his voice and affected a Scottish brogue. ‘’Twill be grand to be returnin’ to the Highlands, lass. They’ve been missing me so dearly at Cairnross.’
‘You are not a Highlander in the way Locharr is,’ she corrected, still unable to stop her smile. When he was behaving with such mischief, it was hard to take him in all seriousness.
‘Nay, but I’ve lived in Scotland since I was a wee laddie. I may be half-Scots, but the important bits are all Highlander,’ he boasted, glancing downwards.
She flushed with shock at his innuendo. Though she knew he had meant it only in teasing, the sensual tilt to his smile made her nervous. It took an effort, but she managed to ignore the remark.
‘I haven’t been to Cairnross in a long time,’ she said. But she didn’t elaborate, for he knew why she had been there on the day of his brother’s burial.
‘I visit often,’ he said. ‘It feels more like home than London.’ Then his hand reached towards his waistcoat where the note was hidden. He tapped it lightly and added, ‘I will try to have answers for you about this matter before I leave for Scotland.’
She thanked him and then asked, ‘Lord Camford, am I wrong to keep this matter from Locharr? Should I talk to him about this?’ Her instinct was not to mention it while they were getting reacquainted. The laird was still a stranger to her, and it would feel quite awkward to solicit his help. ‘I know that my dowry was a matter of concern for him, and this...complicates matters.’
‘I wouldn’t,’ the viscount answered frankly. ‘It’s too soon for that.’
Regina agreed with him. And yet, she worried about the note demanding money. Until now, she had never imagined that there was a financial threat to her father. But now, she was beginning to wonder. A cold spiral threaded through her nerves.
‘Find out anything you can,’ she said, ‘and let me know if you learn who sent the note.’ It was likely impossible to discover the truth, but she had faith in Camford.
He inclined his head. Then he paused a moment and said, ‘You don’t have to wed Locharr, you know—even if your father wants you to. We’re past the era when a woman could not refuse.’
‘I know it.’ But even so, it was h
er father’s greatest wish to see her married to his best friend’s son. It had never been about money or social standing. Ned wanted their families to be joined, and he wanted her to live in Scotland, far away from the terror of her past. It would be a new beginning, and she was willing to give the laird a chance.
Camford studied her intently for a moment, his green eyes growing shadowed. There was an unspoken emotion beneath them, and she suddenly realised that she had never once considered his feelings in all this. He had always been a friend to her, and it was unkind to ask favours of him—selfish, really.
Against her better judgement, she asked, ‘What of you? Are you all right, Lord Camford?’
He regarded her for a long moment, before the corner of his mouth tilted upward. ‘Aye, lass. I’m well enough.’
As he escorted her back to the table, it made her realise that Lord Camford had always been there when she’d needed him. The burden of guilt pressed down, for she shouldn’t have asked this of him, despite their friendship.
But as she looked into his eyes, she somehow wondered if there was more he hadn’t shared.
Chapter Four
Getting drunk sounded like a fine idea that night. Dalton sorted through his cards, though he hardly cared whether he won anything. His mind was fixed upon Regina, and he sat across from his enemy.
No, not his enemy. His friend Lachlan MacKinloch, the Laird of Locharr, who intended to ask Regina for her hand. And it was quite likely that she would say yes.
The very thought made him want to shatter the glass of brandy in his hand. Instead, he attempted a conversation with Locharr. ‘So this...marriage was arranged when you were children, is that it?’
He already knew all about it, but he was trying to gauge whether Locharr had any real desire to wed Regina.
The laird nodded. ‘Our fathers were friends for years, you ken? Regina’s father told mine that he wanted us to wed, but she had to agree to the marriage. In return, her dowry will help my clan.’
So Locharr had agreed to the match, in order to provide for his people. It was a marriage of convenience, as he’d always suspected. Dalton took a sip of brandy, wondering whether another heiress could possibly take Regina’s place.
He pretended to be interested in the cards. They were playing whist with the Duke of Worthingstone and Gabriel MacKinnon. The four of them had been school mates, long ago, and their friendship had remained strong over the years.
The duke’s demeanour seemed almost gleeful, so likely he would win this round. Gabe was scowling at his own hand. He had travelled down from Scotland, though Dalton had no idea why. MacKinnon had been widowed two years ago, but he attracted women easily. They were happy to flirt with him, and he smiled enough to gain their full attention. Yet, he seemed uninterested in marrying again.
‘Does she want to marry you?’ Gabe asked, leading off with an ace.
Locharr laid down a three, following suit. ‘I dinna think she wants to wed anyone, truth to tell. She doesna seem like any of the other ladies. It’s almost as if she’s scared of something.’
Dalton tightened his grip on the brandy glass. Though his mood had darkened, he forced himself to lighten the atmosphere. ‘Scared of you?’ he teased. ‘With that scar, I can’t think why.’
‘There’s no reason to be.’ But Locharr did relax somewhat, tossing another card on the table.
‘What of your governess?’ Gabe prompted. ‘She’s a bonny one.’
That did elicit a reaction. Locharr’s mouth tightened and his eyes flared with anger. ‘Leave her alone, Gabe. She’s no’ for you.’
MacKinnon only smiled, as if he’d got the reaction he’d expected. Interesting. Dalton hadn’t imagined such a possessive air from someone intending to wed another lady. It made him recall the night he had discovered Locharr with Miss Goodson, when they had said goodbye to one another.
Despite what he’d overheard between them, Dalton recognised the truth. Locharr would never choose a governess over Lady Regina. Her dowry of twenty thousand pounds wasn’t something he could walk away from, given his clan’s poverty. But there was a yearning in the man’s face, along with grim determination that he would obey his duty.
Worthingstone took the next trick and then said, ‘Toria asked me to find a post for her. I am sorry if Miss Goodson was embarrassed the other night by idle gossip.’
Now why would the duke care about the reaction of a governess? His wife had tried to hide Miss Goodson in another room. Did Worthingstone know something? Dalton hid his reaction by studying his cards.
‘What happened to her?’ Locharr asked. It was clear that he was not speaking of the other night—he was asking about the prior scandal surrounding the governess. Dalton knew little about it, for he’d been in Scotland at the time.
Worthingstone arranged his cards and paused. ‘It was years ago. She made her debut, and Viscount Nelson was quite taken with her beauty. He gave her all his attention, and she was overcome by it. He seduced her and disappeared.’
The black look on Locharr’s face startled Dalton. His friend looked ready to murder the man, which was not the reaction of a man who had let go of his feelings for this governess. It didn’t bode well for the marriage.
‘Where did she go afterwards?’ Locharr demanded.
‘I cannot say,’ Worthingstone finished. ‘She never showed her face in society again. Her father left, and I don’t believe she’s had any contact with her family.’ He cleared his throat. ‘There was a rumour of a child, but no one knows.’
All throughout the duke’s revelation, Dalton kept his gaze fixed upon Locharr. He was trying to understand the truth of the laird’s intentions. The man’s expression was tightly strung, as if his anger were held back by a single thread.
At last, Locharr answered quietly, ‘She deserves better than the life she has now. Thank you for finding a post for her.’ Though his words were calm, there was no denying the emotions behind them.
They tried to ignore it, but there was an invisible tension lingering. The duke inclined his head and placed another card on the table. The game was a welcome distraction, and they played another round. This time, Dalton took the trick with his king. Though he knew he ought to drop the subject, he couldn’t stop himself from voicing his greater concern. As he pulled the cards across the table, he asked, ‘Will you ask for Lady Regina’s hand in marriage?’
‘Soon,’ Lachlan answered.
It was the answer he was expecting, but in his friend’s eyes, he could see the same sense of helplessness, the realisation that he could not have the woman he wanted. Locharr’s pain mirrored his own, and Dalton grimly tossed another card down.
He was starting to wonder if there was anything he could do. Though he shouldn’t interfere, neither did he want to see both of his friends miserable. Both were marrying out of duty, and the thought of it was an invisible blow to Dalton’s gut.
If there was a way to help them, he had to try.
* * *
Her father had spent most of the day in bed, coughing. Earlier, Regina had summoned a physician, who had given him medicines to help him sleep. She had planned to watch over him, but after the Laird of Locharr came to call, her mother had practically dragged her into the parlour after arranging for tea.
‘Regina, I cannot tell you how fortunate you are.’ Arabella sighed with happiness. ‘Now promise me, you will be a model of ladylike behaviour.’
She simply nodded, for what else was there to say? Her father was determined that she should marry Locharr, and it felt as if a trap were closing in around her. She had seen the physician’s grave expression after he had tended her father, and though he had tried to remain hopeful, she sensed that the worst lay ahead.
How could she entertain a guest when her father might be dying? It took all her years of training to compose her emotions and hold them back. Right now, she wanted to curl int
o a ball on her bed and weep. Instead, she had to accept Locharr’s call and remain polite and serene.
Her mother squeezed her hand, beaming when they reached the parlour. Then she stepped back and allowed Regina to go in alone.
Inside the small room, Locharr appeared quite uncomfortable. He was a large man, and the gilt chair seemed as if it might crack apart beneath his weight. This was not a man accustomed to delicate furnishings. He greeted her quietly, and she tried to muster a smile.
‘Would you like tea?’ she asked. ‘My mother sent for refreshments.’
‘Aye,’ he answered. ‘That is, if you’re wanting a cup.’
At the moment, anything she might drink or eat would taste like dust, but she nodded. The silence between them was an invisible weight, and try as she might, she couldn’t bring herself to speak. The worry over her father was suffocating, and she couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Even Locharr appeared unsettled by the lack of conversation.
Regina was grateful when the footman brought in the tea cart. She poured the laird a cup, but the fragile porcelain appeared as if it might shatter in his large hands.
She tried not to overreact to the laird’s physical size. You’re being ridiculous, she tried to tell herself. Lachlan MacKinloch had never done anything to threaten her. She glanced at the window, trying to press back the fear.
‘The weather seems fair enough,’ he said at last, breaking the stillness.
Weather. Yes, that was a safe topic for conversation. She ought to say something. Anything. But the words tangled up in her throat, and she could only manage a nod. Good heavens, she was behaving like someone who was too scared to speak. Which wasn’t entirely true, but just a little bit.
He was asking her something else, but she missed it. ‘I’m sorry, what did you say?’
‘I asked if there was anything you enjoyed in your spare time. Whist, perhaps?’
He really was trying to make conversation, and she was being a terrible hostess.
The Highlander and the Wallflower Page 5