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The Highlander and the Wallflower

Page 7

by Michelle Willingham

I just...wanted to see you, he’d said.

  The words had held an ache that now touched her heart. No one had ever spoken to her in such a way, as if he needed her. And she could not deny that the words had affected her deeply.

  She moved closer to him, not even knowing why. His frustration had shifted into a shadowed emotion, and she wondered if she’d misread him. Perhaps he was only remembering his brother’s death. His expression had turned solemn, and she asked softly, ‘Are you all right, Lord Camford?’

  ‘What do you think?’ He leaned against his mallet like a cane, and there was a darkness in his tone.

  She couldn’t understand whether it was the game that had turned his mood or the bad memories, but she refused to respond with anything except understanding. ‘I’m sorry,’ she responded. ‘You came here for a distraction, and I think I’ve only made your day worse.’

  ‘No. You haven’t.’ His eyes softened, and she felt a pang of warning. In his face, she saw the bitter sadness, the raw intimacy of a man who was hurting. She faltered, feeling as if she ought to take his hands in hers and offer her sympathy.

  But her imagination took it a step further, and she imagined holding him. She felt the urge to console him, to wrap her arms around his neck.

  Such thoughts were foolish. More likely, the past fears would overwhelm her with such terrible memories, she would shrink away. And that wasn’t what either of them needed.

  ‘Camford, I—’

  ‘It’s all right, Regina. I’m fine.’ He took a breath and eyed the others. No one had even noticed them, it seemed. And perhaps that was because they were losing so badly, there was no reason to pay them any heed.

  ‘Perhaps we should return to our game,’ she hedged. ‘Even if we are losing, we might still manage to catch up.’

  He nodded in agreement. But as she was about to strike her ball, he interrupted. ‘Are you going to accept Locharr’s proposal?’

  A chill broke over her skin as she hit the ball with her mallet. She didn’t want to give an answer just yet.

  But then, Camford caught her by surprise when his gloved hand touched the small of her back. The unexpected contact made her jolt, but what startled her more was her response. Heat flooded through her, and she was fully conscious of his touch. Regina didn’t know why he had conjured such a reaction, and she felt the sudden need to push him away.

  She blurted out, ‘Yes. I think I will accept the laird’s proposal.’ It would help her to lock away the past for ever. Her father would have his wish, and she could live in peace, away from the rest of the world. She had no feelings towards the laird, and that was for the best.

  Camford drew his hand away from her back, and his eyes had turned cool. ‘You said that you didn’t want to marry anyone. Why did you change your mind?’

  Because he will never touch me, she thought.

  But she couldn’t ever say that. Lord Camford would never understand. ‘I have my own reasons.’

  She never intended to lie with a man. Not ever. And for that reason, she had turned down suitor after suitor. It wasn’t fair to lead a potential husband to believe that theirs would ever be a true marriage.

  Unlike the previous gentlemen, Lachlan had promised to wait as long as she desired.

  But she intended to wait for always.

  ‘You don’t love him,’ Camford pointed out.

  ‘I don’t have a choice,’ she answered. ‘And besides that, love isn’t necessary to be content within a marriage. Afterwards, I will leave London and never return.’

  He looked as if he wanted to say more. His eyes had turned stormy, like a jealous man. But he said nothing at all, silencing whatever thoughts he had.

  Chapter Five

  Dalton drove swiftly through the streets, wishing he hadn’t delayed his trip to Scotland. He’d rather be anywhere else than tangled up in this mess.

  Locharr had returned to Worthingstone’s residence in a foul mood. He’d got quite drunk and had revealed that Regina had accepted his proposal of marriage. It had taken every ounce of control for Dalton to congratulate him. But inwardly, he’d wanted to drive his fist through the glass window.

  Because you want her, a voice inside reminded him.

  He pushed back the thought, for he knew better than to consider it. Regina didn’t want him, and why should she? All his life, he’d never been good enough to please his parents. He was the black sheep, the ne’er-do-well who could never truly take his brother’s place as heir. If his own family didn’t care for him, neither would she.

  But even so, he hadn’t liked her insistence that she didn’t have a choice in the marriage. He wanted to be certain no one was forcing her into this decision. He already knew that it wasn’t Lachlan’s desire—the laird was in love with the governess, Miss Goodson. This was naught but an arrangement for the sake of a twenty-thousand-pound dowry that would save the MacKinloch Clan.

  Though he understood why Locharr had agreed to the match, Dalton didn’t truly understand Regina’s reasons. It seemed as if she was trying to run away. Her last words, her claim that she would not return to London again, seemed to emphasise it.

  And so, he had decided to pay a call on her. He wanted to be absolutely certain that no one was forcing her into the betrothal. For Locharr could marry any wealthy heiress to save his clan; it didn’t have to be Regina.

  He knocked on Lord Havershire’s front door, and the footman sighed. ‘My lord, Lady Regina is not receiving guests.’

  He paused a moment, wondering if he ought to leave. ‘Is she all right?’

  The footman cleared his throat. ‘That is none of your concern.’

  ‘Actually, as her friend, it is my concern if she’s not feeling well.’ He was about to offer his calling card, but it was then that he saw Lord Havershire approaching. The man’s face was ghastly pale, and he clutched a handkerchief. The earl coughed and straightened. ‘What’s all this about, Camford?’

  He didn’t want to have this conversation in the hall with half the servants listening. ‘I came to pay a call upon your daughter, Havershire.’

  ‘Why?’ The earl eyed him and said, ‘You’ve heard about my daughter’s betrothal to the Laird of Locharr, haven’t you?’ The man’s face reddened, as he stared hard at Dalton. ‘Do you somehow believe she might change her mind and wed you instead? Is that why you’re here?’

  ‘No, that isn’t the reason,’ he started to say.

  But the earl took a step forward and glared at him. ‘I promise you, it will never happen. Regina knows that Lachlan MacKinloch is the only man she is permitted to marry.’

  Permitted? Dalton’s suspicions tightened, and he chose his question carefully. ‘Why would you take that choice from her? Is there a reason you won’t allow her to wed anyone else?’

  The earl shrugged. ‘The agreement was made years ago. And I am not a man to go back on my word.’

  Dalton was about to argue, but then, it occurred to him that the earl was speaking about the marital contract as if he owed a debt. And perhaps that’s what this was—he was selling his daughter into an arrangement, in order to repay Locharr’s family. He could think of no other reason why the earl would demand that Regina marry one man, and a laird at that.

  Dalton pulled out the crumpled note demanding three thousand pounds. ‘Does this have something to do with your reasons for the betrothal?’

  The earl took the paper and paled. ‘Where did you get this?’

  ‘From your daughter,’ he answered. ‘Is this why you would never allow her to marry anyone else? Because of a scandal you’re being blackmailed about?’

  The older man’s face grew stricken, as if Dalton had predicted too much of the truth. ‘Get out.’ To the footman, he added, ‘Lord Camford is not welcome in this house again.’

  A racking cough came over the earl, and he covered his mouth with the handkerchief. Hi
s shoulders shook from the effort, and he turned away, clutching the note in his fist.

  ‘She deserves better than this,’ Dalton said. ‘You shouldn’t force her into marriage.’

  Especially when Locharr is in love with someone else.

  ‘Out,’ the earl repeated.

  This time, Dalton went to the door, though he made no effort to hide his frustration. It seemed there was nothing he could do, and he wasn’t so certain that it was her choice.

  Dalton walked down the stairs towards his waiting carriage, when suddenly, he saw Regina arriving with her mother and her maid. Her face grew guarded, and she hesitated while they approached.

  ‘Lord Camford,’ the countess greeted him. ‘What a surprise to see you. Did you hear of Regina’s good news? She has accepted a marriage proposal from your friend, the Laird of Locharr.’ The woman smiled brightly, though he recognised the hidden warning in her words.

  ‘Yes, I spoke with Lachlan last night,’ Dalton agreed. ‘I thought the news was rather sudden.’ He sent a direct look towards Regina, who didn’t flinch at all.

  ‘I am so pleased by it,’ Lady Havershire continued. ‘As is my husband. We’ve already begun our wedding plans, and we will host an engagement ball very soon. As Locharr’s friend, you will certainly be invited.’ She smiled warmly, though Dalton had no desire to see the pair of them together.

  ‘I will be glad to attend,’ he said. Though he would rather be tortured than watch Regina stand with another man.

  ‘Mother, may I have a word alone with Lord Camford?’ Regina asked. ‘I will only be a moment.’

  ‘It would not be appropriate,’ Lady Havershire argued. ‘I am sorry, but I must refuse.’ Her mother gave an apologetic smile. ‘You are betrothed to the laird, after all.’

  Regina eyed him, and then nodded. ‘I suppose you are right.’ To Dalton, she added, ‘Do you remember the letter from my friend? Another note arrived only a day ago. I thought you might like to know.’

  So, the danger was still there. He wondered what the newest threat had been and tried to discreetly enquire about more.

  ‘Thank you for telling me,’ he said. ‘I hope all is well with your friend.’

  ‘I fear that her health is getting worse,’ Regina answered. ‘But thank you for your kind words and the assistance you offered. Please let me know if you hear anything more.’

  So, it was indeed bad news. And she wanted him to continue the investigation.

  ‘Of course,’ he answered.

  ‘Who is ill?’ Lady Havershire demanded. ‘I’ve heard nothing of this.’

  ‘You’ve never met her,’ Regina said. ‘She is a distant cousin of Anne’s.’ To Dalton she said, ‘Thank you for your assistance. Perhaps I will see you at the ball.’ With a murmured farewell, she ascended the steps with her mother.

  Now he knew the reasons why she had accepted Lachlan’s proposal. She didn’t feel safe here any more. Her father’s insistence on the marriage suggested that he was desperate to send her away, as if she needed the laird’s protection.

  The only question was why.

  Three days later

  Regina stood at the dressmaker’s feeling as if she’d been poked and measured and prodded for hours. Her mother had chosen the wedding gown, and she was eager for it to be finished. The colour was sky blue, and the dressmaker was holding up different patterns of lace. ‘Which of these do you like best?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Regina murmured, eyeing her mother. ‘Whatever you prefer.’

  Arabella was happy to make the choice for her, just as she had chosen everything else. It didn’t matter. The earl’s health was worsening, and the wedding plans were a welcome distraction for her mother. Though the physician continued to visit him, he had cautioned them to keep a safe distance from the earl. Arabella had been ordered not to share a bedchamber with him, and the maids were instructed to burn the earl’s soiled handkerchiefs. The physician had prescribed a medicine to help him sleep, but it slurred her father’s speech and made it difficult to wake him.

  Regina was trying not to think of it, but each day, her father seemed weaker. He kept his spirits up by talking of her wedding. It seemed to be his reason for living, and she tried to behave as if she were excited by the forthcoming nuptials.

  ‘I am so happy for you, my dear,’ Arabella said with a warm smile. ‘I know this wedding will be perfect.’

  Regina managed some sort of response, but she didn’t truly believe it would be a perfect wedding. It was a ceremony and a means to her escape; that was all. Bleakly, she finished the dress fitting, and then departed with her mother.

  They started driving through the streets, and her thoughts wandered back to the second blackmail note. A part of her wished she could have waited at the lamp post near Bedford Street last night, to learn who was demanding money. But it wasn’t a safe part of town, and she doubted if the true blackmailer would show up—more likely a hired person. Still, she would send another note to Camford, telling him the details.

  In the meantime, she had more questions for her mother. Perhaps she could find the answers in a different way. ‘Mother...there’s something I’ve been worried about. You said that Papa borrowed money from the Laird of Locharr, years ago.’

  Arabella stiffened and glanced out the window. ‘It was a long time ago, Regina. And this is not the time or place to discuss it.’

  ‘Five years ago?’ Regina ventured, wondering if that was when the blackmail had begun.

  Her mother shrugged. ‘I don’t remember. But the debt will be repaid when you marry Lachlan MacKinloch. As I said, it was a long time ago.’

  Her father would only allow her to marry Lachlan, so he could pay back the debt through her exorbitant dowry. And it made Regina feel utterly trapped. The walls of the room seemed to close in on her, and she needed an escape desperately.

  On the journey home, her mother continued to converse about plans for the wedding breakfast and her trousseau. As she described the gowns, Regina interrupted. ‘Are you certain we have enough to pay for all this, Mother?’

  The countess appeared shocked that she would even voice concerns. ‘I will never allow my daughter to be married and leave home dressed like a pauper. The very idea is insulting.’

  Regina lifted her hands in a silent apology, though she had a feeling her mother knew nothing about the blackmail. ‘If you say so.’

  The carriage arrived back at the house. When the driver opened the door, Regina was surprised to find Lord Camford waiting nearby. Her mother stiffened at the sight of him. ‘I thought your father told him not to return.’

  ‘Is that why he’s waiting outside?’ she wondered aloud. Did he have news regarding the blackmailer?

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Arabella answered. ‘You shouldn’t be accepting male callers any more. What would people say?’

  ‘The viscount is a friend of mine and has been for years,’ Regina said. ‘He is also a good friend of Locharr’s.’

  ‘But what would your fiancé think of this?’ her mother warned. ‘It doesn’t look good, Regina.’

  ‘I would hope that my fiancé would trust me,’ she said. ‘But if you would prefer, I could stand outside on the stairs and speak to him in public where everyone can see us.’

  ‘You shouldn’t speak to him at all,’ her mother warned.

  Regina dismissed the thought, for her mother was only concerned about propriety. Her greater concern was about the threat against her father. If Camford knew anything at all, she had to see him. But in order to get past her mother’s doubts, she would have to redirect Arabella’s suspicions.

  ‘Had you thought that perhaps he brings news from Lachlan?’ she suggested. ‘I want to hear what he has to say.’ When her mother was about to protest further, she added, ‘If it makes you feel better, I will receive him in the kitchens, so Papa doesn’t know he’s here.�
�� She saw, from the look on her mother’s face, that this was the true reason for her discomfort.

  ‘He won’t know,’ she reassured her mother. ‘And Camford will not stay long, I promise you that.’ As another distraction, she said, ‘I think we should begin addressing the invitations, don’t you?’

  Her mother’s expression wilted, and she sighed. ‘Ten minutes. Nothing more than that, and your father must not know that he’s here.’

  ‘Thank you, Mother.’ She reached out to squeeze Arabella’s hands. ‘Why don’t you go and see how Papa is feeling? I’ll join you soon.’

  The carriage pulled to a stop in front of their town house, and Regina climbed out with the help of the coachman. Lord Camford nodded in greeting and tipped his hat to both of them. ‘Have you brought any news?’ she ventured.

  ‘I have.’ He smiled politely to the countess and said, ‘Good afternoon, Lady Havershire.’

  The countess looked pained and simply said to Regina, ‘Ten minutes,’ before she ascended the stairs and spoke quietly to the footman.

  ‘Ten minutes?’ Camford repeated, his expression revealing his confusion.

  ‘Follow me, and we will speak in private,’ Regina said. She opened the door and touched a finger to her lips when she walked past the footman. ‘Papa mustn’t know you are here.’

  ‘Where are we going?’ he murmured, following her down the winding stairs towards the servants’ quarters.

  ‘To the kitchens. Just for a moment,’ she said. ‘I am allowed ten minutes to speak with you, no more. Let me send the servants away first.’ She guided him down a narrow hallway and then into a large kitchen. A huge wooden table rested in the centre of the room, and two of the kitchen maids gaped at her. Regina couldn’t remember the last time she had ever ventured into the kitchens.

  ‘Will you excuse us for a moment,’ she asked softly. When the cook eyed her hesitantly, Regina added, ‘You may return within a few minutes.’

  No one moved at first, but the cook finally said to the kitchen maids, ‘You heard Lady Regina. Out! All of you.’

 

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