The Highlander and the Wallflower

by Michelle Willingham

  Only then, did they set aside their cooking utensils and scurry out the door. Regina waited a moment, and then glanced down the hallway to ensure that no one was eavesdropping. She leaned against the table and asked in a low voice, ‘What did you learn?’

  Lord Camford drew closer, and murmured, ‘The Bow Street Runner believes that your blackmailer is likely female, from the handwriting. He waited at the lamp post the other night to see who arrived. It was a man, and he spoke to him. The man was hired to pick up a delivery, but he didn’t know what it was or for whom. The Runner gave him a package filled with blank paper, and he took it. He was discreet in following the man, but it was delivered to another address in Cheapside. Whoever it was is not a member of the nobility.’

  Her heart sank, for it was possible that one of the servants, other than Frederick, had witnessed her shame. But who?

  A sinking suspicion clenched her stomach as she wondered about her maid. Nell was Frederick’s granddaughter. He wouldn’t have told her anything, would he? She couldn’t imagine he would betray them like that. The young woman had only come into their employ within the past year, but Frederick had died two years ago. And if the notes had been sent over the past five years, she didn’t think it was possible that her maid would have anything to do with them. Moreover, she wasn’t entirely certain Nell knew how to read or write.

  ‘What should I do?’ she asked Camford.

  His steady gaze met hers. ‘You don’t need to do anything. The Runner will watch the house and learn who it is. Then we will alert the authorities and have your blackmailer arrested. It will be over soon.’

  He seemed convinced that it would be so, and she wanted to believe him. ‘Thank you, Camford.’

  He gave a nod and then asked quietly, ‘How are you, Lady Regina? The last time I came to pay a call on you, your father ordered me out.’

  She thought of lying and telling him that she was fine, but instead, she said, ‘I feel as if my life is a spinning wheel that won’t stop. My mother is making all the wedding plans, and my engagement ball will be soon. I ought to feel something about the wedding, but all I can feel is panic. I’m overwhelmed.’

  ‘Then don’t marry him,’ he said quietly.

  She said nothing about the debt or their family obligation. Instead, she turned away from him. He didn’t understand that her life was not her own. She was being sold into marriage for her father’s sake, and Lachlan had agreed to leave her untouched. It was the best she could hope for. But being around Lord Camford unnerved her with unexpected feelings. Even looking into his eyes made her skin tighten, as if he had drawn his fingers over her skin.

  ‘I have to wed the laird,’ she insisted. ‘And though I am grateful for your help with this blackmailer, I cannot walk away from this marriage. It’s for the best, Lord Camford.’

  ‘I’m not so certain about that,’ he said. ‘He’s in love with another woman.’

  Regina nearly flinched at his words but suppressed the instinct. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ If Locharr cared for someone else, it was likely that he would leave her alone. And that was necessary to surviving the marriage. She took a step backwards and glanced at the door. ‘My father is dying, and he wants to see me married. I intend to keep my word.’

  With that, she straightened and regarded him. ‘Thank you for your help, Lord Camford. I will see that you are repaid for hiring the Runner.’

  ‘I will not accept any repayment,’ he countered. ‘You know this.’ The look in his eyes held a hint of frustration, but it was the softer tone that bothered her.

  He cared. And the more she spent time in his presence, the more she was starting to falter in keeping up the wall around her feelings. For so long, they had been friends. She trusted Camford, knowing he would never, ever hurt her. Over the years, he had proven himself, and she was grateful for his friendship.

  But during the past few weeks, it was as if something within her had shifted. She could not deny that she was attracted to his handsome face, but it was his kindness that was her undoing. There was a yearning within her and the knowledge that she would miss him when he was gone. And that was entirely too dangerous.

  ‘Please accept my gratitude for your assistance, Lord Camford,’ she said with all formality. She was careful to keep all warmth or friendliness from her voice. Despite her traitorous feelings, she needed Camford to leave and not see her again. ‘I bid you farewell.’

  With that, she left the kitchens, only to nearly stumble into her maid, Nell. ‘It is not polite to be lurking around corners,’ she told the young girl. ‘Especially after I asked you to leave.’

  ‘Forgive me, my lady. It’s only that Lady Havershire ordered me to remain close by as a chaperon.’

  She wasn’t surprised at her mother’s interference. But as Lord Camford departed, he never said a word to her, nor did he look back. His stony silence cut her heart, despite her attempts to remain frozen to any feelings.

  It was better this way, she told herself. And it was the only way she could protect herself from unwanted emotions was not to see the viscount again.

  * * *

  It was the night before his engagement ball, and Lachlan MacKinloch looked terrible. Never had a man seemed more reluctant to wed. Dalton, Gabriel, and the laird were gathered around a bottle of brandy. It was meant to be a celebration, but Locharr appeared troubled.

  ‘You’re looking rather glum for a man about to be married,’ Gabriel MacKinnon said. He took a sip of brandy, eyeing their friend.

  An understatement, if there ever was one.

  ‘He looks as if he’s about to be strung up,’ Dalton remarked, trying to keep his tone light. He knew, all too well, the reason for his friend’s misery. ‘Though it’s wise to let the bride and her family make all the plans.’ He had heard that Lady Havershire had thrown herself into the wedding plans, delighted at the idea of their match.

  Lachlan poured his own glass and didn’t answer. He looked as if he wanted to call it off. But then, Gabe MacKinnon intervened, saying, ‘I didna love my wife when I first married her. I’d never seen her before, you ken? It was arranged, and I hated the thought of wedding a stranger. But I learned to care for her.’

  You’re not helping, Dalton wanted to say but didn’t. It seemed that both Lachlan and Regina intended to go through with a loveless marriage. The laird sipped at his brandy and stared outside the window, though Dalton knew he’d heard every word.

  MacKinnon came to stand beside him and reminded Lachlan, ‘Your father wanted this. And you said that you wanted the match as well, to save Locharr from ruin.’ There was a slight question in his voice, as if wondering if it were still true.

  ‘I did say that,’ Lachlan answered. But his voice held a numb quality, almost toneless.

  Dalton was torn about what to say. He wanted the laird to call it off—and yet, Locharr needed her dowry to save his people. The laird would not hesitate to sacrifice himself for their sake.

  ‘Have you arranged for the special licence?’ MacKinnon asked. ‘Or are you having the banns read?’

  ‘Lord and Lady Havershire are wanting me to get a special licence. I’ll take care of it on the morrow.’

  Dalton’s gaze narrowed. Locharr hadn’t procured the licence yet? It seemed that he was quite the reluctant bridegroom.

  Gabe said quietly, ‘All will be well, Lachlan. You’ll see.’ He clapped Locharr on the back as he departed the room.

  But likely, it wouldn’t be.

  Dalton stayed behind, wondering if he dared ask Locharr the truth about his feelings. His friend appeared resigned to the marriage as if it were an execution. ‘You don’t want this marriage any more, do you?’

  Lachlan shook his head. ‘I thought I did. I thought I should wed her for the sake of Locharr. But it’s no’ the right thing to do. She doesna deserve a man like me.’

  Dalton chose his words car
efully, hiding his own thoughts. ‘What will you do? Withdraw your offer?’

  It would embarrass Regina, but was that not better than a lifetime of unhappiness?

  Lachlan shrugged. ‘I dinna ken what I should do. I suppose I should talk to her. Tell her the truth.’

  But Dalton wasn’t so certain that confronting her in person was wise. Lord and Lady Havershire would be furious if Locharr tried to call it off with Regina. ‘It may already be too late. They’ve set the date, haven’t they?’

  ‘They have, aye.’ He set down the brandy snifter and stared at the window again, almost as if searching for a way out.

  And there was a way out—if Locharr ended the engagement. By now, Dalton knew that Regina would not walk away from the wedding. Not unless she had no choice.

  ‘Write her a letter,’ he suggested. ‘I’ll deliver it on your behalf. Tell her that you no longer wish to marry her—tell her whatever you want. Then take your woman and go to Scotland.’

  For the first time, there was a glimmer of hope in Lachlan’s eyes. ‘What of the engagement ball tonight? I canna just leave.’

  ‘Go to the ball, then. And leave afterwards. Give me the letter, and I’ll make sure she reads it after a day or two.’

  Lachlan appeared hesitant. ‘I should tell her before the ball. I dinna want her to be humiliated.’

  ‘It’s too late to send word to all the guests,’ Dalton reminded him. ‘Just attend the gathering tonight and tell her afterwards.’

  ‘I suppose she could delay the wedding,’ he hedged. ‘The wedding invitations have no’ been sent yet.’ He brightened at the realisation. ‘You’re right. I’ll go to the ball tonight, but afterwards, I’ll leave. You give her the letter, and it can end quietly.’

  Dalton nodded in agreement. The gratefulness in his friend’s eyes matched his own feelings. Calling off the wedding might infuriate the earl and the countess, but it was the right thing to do.

  * * *

  Regina felt sick to her stomach. Her engagement ball had been dreadful. Lord Camford had tried to warn her about Lachlan’s feelings for another woman. She hadn’t wanted to believe it—but once she’d seen it for herself, she had been torn by confusion and hurt.

  She wanted a man to look at her in the same way Lachlan looked at Miss Goodson. Never had she seen a man more in love, and though she had no feelings towards the laird, she was starting to see that it could be a problem. She had initially believed that it didn’t matter if he kept another woman on the side, for he would stay out of her bed.

  But now, she was starting to realise the complications. He would resent her for being his wife when he wanted someone else. The marriage might turn to bitterness, and she didn’t want that.

  Yet was there any other choice but to go through with the wedding? She didn’t see a way out, for it would break her father’s heart.

  On the table beside the fire lay a third blackmail note demanding three thousand pounds. This time, she could no longer ignore it.

  Don’t try to avoid payment any longer. I saw what happened that night. If you do not send the money I will inform Mallencourt’s family that his death was not an accident.

  The scrawled words made her swallow back the bile rising in her throat. Thus far, her father had not paid the blackmail—and she didn’t want it to continue any longer. Likely his worsening illness had prevented it, besides her attempt to keep the notes from him. She didn’t want anything to upset him, for his physical health was waning.

  And even more, she wasn’t entirely certain about the state of their wealth. Did he have the money to pay the blackmailer? Or even her dowry? Her worry deepened, and she understood how grave their situation was.

  No one could ever learn what had happened that night, so many years ago. Her father had done what he could to silence the idle gossip. But more than anything, she needed to escape London, to avoid suspicion and quietly disappear.

  Lachlan had sent over his own note last night. Most likely it was an apology she didn’t want to hear. She closed her eyes, calming herself. It was better to let the past go.

  She couldn’t change his feelings for the governess, but she could become a good wife to him. Although their own marriage would be an arrangement that neither truly wanted, it would grant her the escape and the protection of the laird’s clan.

  Regina moved close to the fire, warming herself. Her mother had advised her to move the wedding date up, and she agreed with the decision. It no longer mattered when this wedding took place. They could have a quiet ceremony with only a few guests, and then she would go to Scotland.

  With that, she tossed the blackmail note and Lachlan’s letter into the fire. The last thing she wanted was to hear reasons why he loved someone else. The edges of the paper curled up, and she felt better after both papers burned into ashes.

  A knock sounded at the door, and she glanced up to see her mother. Arabella’s eyes were red as if she’d been crying, and she asked, ‘May I come in?’

  ‘Of course.’ Regina gestured for her to sit down. ‘Are you all right?’

  Her mother’s mouth tightened, and she shook her head. ‘I would like to tell you yes, but it wouldn’t be the truth.’

  ‘What is it?’ She moved to sit beside Arabella and touched her hand.

  ‘Your father...the physician says that he has consumption. He—he’s dying, Regina. And I can’t bear to think of living without him.’ Her mother’s sobs broke through, and Regina could only embrace her. Her throat ached with her own tears, but someone had to be strong. There were no words to ease the sorrow, so she let her mother cry.

  ‘I wanted him to be there for your wedding,’ she wept. ‘I wanted it to be special. With flowers and food and guests to celebrate with us. But I worry that he doesn’t have much time.’

  Regina pulled back and held her mother’s shoulders. Though she didn’t personally care what sort of wedding it was, she now understood that Arabella was using the plans as her own way of escaping the pain.

  ‘I’ve sent word to Lachlan about having the wedding in three days,’ her mother said. ‘At least then your father can be there and try to enjoy it.’ Her lip trembled, and she wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. For a moment, she seemed to be gathering her courage. ‘We will celebrate as if he is well and whole. And I know it will bring him joy, despite his illness.’

  Regina took her mother’s hands in hers, pushing back her own doubts. With effort, she summoned a smile. ‘I know it will be a beautiful wedding.’

  Arabella mustered a smile through her tears. ‘I was more eager than I should have been, I know. Your gown is ready, and it will be easy to have all the flowers. Mrs Fitch will make the cake and all the food. I will begin changing the invitations today. Perhaps you could help me?’

  ‘I would be glad of it.’ She smiled and squeezed Arabella’s hands.

  And she realised that she needed the distraction of writing out invitations as much as her mother did. It would keep her thoughts away from the fear that she was making a terrible mistake.

  Three days later

  ‘What are we going to do?’ Gabriel demanded. ‘You need to tell Lady Regina what happened.’

  ‘I already tried yesterday and the day before,’ Dalton said. ‘Her mother refused my calls.’ And after Lord Havershire had ordered him out the last time, he wasn’t entirely surprised. But this was a problem beyond anything he’d ever anticipated.

  The bride didn’t realise that her bridegroom had run off to Scotland and married someone else. Dalton had sent several notes to Regina, but it didn’t seem that she had paid them any heed. And now, a more dire meaning had become clear. He had received a revised invitation to the wedding only a day ago. Lady Regina was under the mistaken impression that Lachlan still intended to marry her this morning.

  ‘I will go there now,’ Dalton said. ‘I’ll find a way to speak with her.’ H
e would climb into Regina’s bedchamber if he had to. She didn’t deserve to be left stranded at the altar—not if he could stop it.

  He hurried to his carriage and then checked his pocket watch. There were two hours before the ceremony. If the guests were planning to arrive, so be it. He couldn’t stop the wedding, but he could save Regina.

  After he arrived at his father’s residence, he hurried up the stairs to his room. There, he sorted through his clothing until suddenly, he stopped short. He stared at the kilt in the colours of his mother’s clan. They were similar to Lachlan’s colours, since they were neighbouring clans.

  He didn’t know why he was considering wearing it. There was no reason. But a sixth sense prickled at him.

  It’s a terrible idea, his conscience warned him. There’s no need.

  But what if there was? What if Regina was waiting for a Highlander bridegroom who never came?

  He had delivered Lachlan’s note calling off the engagement, as promised, but he wondered if Regina had read it. He was beginning to think she hadn’t. And if she didn’t know her bridegroom wasn’t coming, it would mean public humiliation.

  He finished getting dressed and stared at himself in the mirror. What he was about to do went beyond all civilised manners. It was the actions of a Highlander, not a gentleman. But Regina needed to be rescued, and he would do anything necessary to help her. He opened a small chest and perused its contents of silver cuff links and a gold pocket watch until he found what he was looking for and tucked it away.

  A sudden rush of nerves caught him. Never had he imagined such a reckless plan. And if she refused to let him save her, he didn’t know what he would do.

  Dalton glanced outside the window and saw that the streets were crowded from an overturned cart. Carriages and coaches were stopped, while several men tried to turn the cart upright. There was no means of driving to the wedding now; he would have to walk and hire a hackney cab further away.

  Dalton stared at his attire, wondering if this was a mistake. His intention was to help Regina, but she might refuse his aid. He gathered his sense of resolution and walked downstairs. Then he ventured out into the streets amid the chaos. There was still time to reach Regina.