Sold to a Laird

by Karen Ranney

  He was stubborn, intelligent, and given to striding around naked more often than not. Yet he’d let her see his vulnerability. It’s where I write those things I learn. So that I don’t forget. He’d seen the world, but she had the feeling that he’d never be complacent with past deeds. Douglas would want to learn more and do more throughout the whole of his life. Living with him would be a passionate, tumultuous adventure.

  And living without him? What would that be like?

  Chapter 31

  On Friday, Sarah dressed in one of her favorite ensembles, along with her newest set of gloves, and one of her mother’s favorite hats, all of which had been dyed black for her mourning.

  The journey to London marked the first time Sarah had traveled to the city and been so acutely aware of every aspect of the journey and the time it took. Normally, her interest was captivated by a conversation, a book, her journal, or even the passing of the scenery. Now, however, nothing seemed to make the trip faster or ease the uncomfortable knot in the middle of her stomach.

  She’d given the coachman, a very capable young man named Edmunds, Alano’s address in London. He’d promised to find it, and she’d only nodded, knowing that it was common to become lost in London more often than not. To her surprise, however, he drove straight to the square located not far from her father’s home.

  “It’s a very fashionable place, Lady Sarah,” he said, helping her from the carriage.

  His comment only spurred more questions, but she had a more important task at the moment than to inquire of her coachman’s past.

  Edmunds preceded her up the stairs and knocked forcefully on the door.

  Sarah looked around the square surreptitiously, surprised at the prosperity of the place. A small square park sat in front of the house, enticing a visitor to sit on the wooden benches or take a walk beside the blooming flower beds. An ornate iron fence enclosed the park. If this was like the Duke of Herridge’s home, the occupants of the adjoining houses had keys to the gate.

  Alano was wealthier than she’d imagined.

  The door was opened by a young blond man attired in a leather apron and smelling of vinegar.

  “Yes?” he asked, looking down his not-inconsiderable nose at them. “Who are you?”

  He looked first at Edmunds, then at Sarah, and finally at the coach with the ducal crest sitting in front of the steps to the town house. If anything changed his mind on how to address them, it was not politeness as much as the carriage. He whipped off the apron and bowed too deeply.

  “May I assist you?”

  “I have come to see Alano McDonough,” Sarah said. “Is he at home?”

  “May I announce you?”

  Contrary to Douglas’s comments, she didn’t often tout her title. But something about this young man made her want to do so. If she’d been a duchess, so much the better. The daughter of one would have to suffice.

  “Lady Sarah Eston,” she said. “Of Chavensworth.”

  Again, she had the impression it was not so much her person as what accompanied her—in this instance, the mention of Chavensworth—that impressed the young man.

  He managed to step back, open the door, and bow, all in one effortless movement. If he hadn’t annoyed her, she would’ve commended him on the poetry of his movements. As it was, she was determined to ignore him.

  “I shall summon him forthwith,” he said, and disappeared into the interior of the house, making no provisions for where they were to wait, or taking her gloves and bonnet, or even her card. He just disappeared.

  Thomas, for all his inexperience in his position, would not have erred so abysmally.

  A few minutes later, long enough for Sarah to become even more irritated, Alano appeared out of the shadows.

  “I’m sorry, Lady Sarah, that the buffoon left you standing there,” he said, motioning to a door set in a far wall.

  She was always a little disconcerted to hear his Spanish accent, but she smiled and turned to her driver. “If you wish to return to the coach, Edmunds, I shall be fine,” she said.

  “If you’re certain, Lady Sarah.”

  She nodded and watched him leave the house, opening and closing the door behind him.

  “Where did your majordomo disappear to?” she asked.

  “I’ve set him to polishing the silver. It’s the only way to rid myself of him for a while. But he’s not mine. He’s Douglas’s.” He grinned. “Although I do admit to having hired Paulson, a fact Douglas will not allow me to forget. Staff the place, he said, and for my sins, I thought Paulson was versed in manners.”

  Alano looked around the room. Crates and barrels littered the space.

  He led her to a sofa, and she sat.

  “If the damn fool knew anything, he’d have offered you refreshments,” Alano said. “But then, it doesn’t appear we’re up to any kind of standard.”

  She turned to face him, schooling her features so as not to betray her surprise.

  “This house belongs to Douglas?”

  “Your husband is a very wealthy man, Lady Sarah. More wealthy, I’d say than your father could ever hope to be.”

  She knew that, from his purchase of a rail car. But there was one question for which she needed an answer.

  “Why did he enter into an agreement with him, Alano?”

  “Are you talking the agreement to make diamonds for him? A man would be a fool ever to use all his own money to finance a venture, Lady Sarah. As to the wedding, you will have to ask him that yourself.” He smiled kindly at her.

  “But you didn’t come here to talk about your wedding. Did you?” He peered into her face. “Because I couldn’t speak ill of Douglas, Lady Sarah. He’s almost like a son to me.”

  She folded her hands in her lap, took a few deep breaths to compose herself, and looked up at Alano, who was still standing beside her.

  “I’ve come to ask if you know where he is. Is he here, since this is his house?”

  “He’s not here, Lady Sarah,” Alano said, frowning. “I haven’t seen him since he and I shared a carriage from Chavensworth a few days ago.”

  She took another deep breath, but perhaps one of the whalebone stays had come loose in her corset, because a sharp pain seemed to go through her stomach at Alano’s comment. She was gripping her hands so tightly they resembled fists, and she forced them open.

  “Did he mention to you any errands he might have? Or where he might have gone?”

  Alano sat beside her.

  “There was one thing,” he said slowly, his gaze not on her but the floor. “He was set on seeing his solicitor. He wouldn’t tell me why.” He faced her finally. “That’s all I know, Lady Sarah.”

  “Why have you come back to London, Alano?”

  “Douglas and I have never lived in each other’s pockets, Lady Sarah. London’s close enough to Chavensworth that I won’t lose touch with him. Besides, London tolerates me more than Chavensworth.”

  “A house does not have the capacity for tolerance, Alano,” she said gently. “Only the people within it.”

  His look changed, became as frozen as that worn by Mrs. Williams.

  “Do you know the address of Douglas’s solicitor?” she asked.

  He nodded. “I’ll tell your driver and give him directions,” he said.

  She didn’t say anything until she reached the door, then she turned to him. “Mrs. Williams seems to miss you a great deal,” she said. “She was weeping the last time I saw her.”

  He didn’t respond, merely descended the steps to speak to Edmunds. Once he’d done so, he turned to Sarah again. “It’s not like Douglas to disappear, Lady Sarah. If he isn’t at Chavensworth, there’s a reason for it. If there’s something he had to face, he’d do so. The man is not a coward.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that, so she opted for the truth. “I need to know why he left.”

  “Let me come with you,” he said. “I might be of some use.”

  Surprised, she nodded. “I would be grateful for t
he company,” she said.

  The solicitor’s office was located in an area of the city unfamiliar to her. Edmunds waited with the horses while she and Alano entered the small office. After a flurry of introductions and some stuttering responses from his clerk, she and Alano were shown into an inner office and introduced to Peter Smythe, her husband’s solicitor.

  The man was the antithesis of what she’d imagined. Instead of being stoop-shouldered, he was tall. When he stood and came around the desk to greet her, he did so with a smile. He was also younger than she’d thought he’d be—not much older than Douglas. He wasn’t as attractive a man as her husband, but she had to admit, sitting there, that if she’d never seen Douglas, she would have thought the solicitor handsome.

  A thought that lasted only until she’d come face-to-face with Mr. Smythe’s incredible recalcitrance. Her husband’s solicitor was even more stubborn than Douglas, and more obstinate than her most intractable Scottish relative.

  “I’m afraid, Lady Sarah,” he said, “that I cannot divulge the information you seek Perhaps if you sought the answers from your husband, he could tell you why he came to see me.”

  She didn’t like feeling powerless, but she kept her smile anchored in place, all too conscious of Mr. Smythe’s watchful glance and Alano’s presence at her side.

  “Are you being confidential because that is what every client deserves, Mr. Smythe? Or is there a particular reason you might be keeping that information from me?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  She took a deep breath. “If I left the room, would you give Mr. McDonough the information I need?”

  He drew himself up in his chair, a quite impressive performance, actually.

  “I would not, Lady Sarah,” he said. “On the contrary, I would probably interrogate Mr. McDonough with a great deal more severity than I’m questioning you. I might ask him, for example, why he is so desirous to know? Why has he come to me? Is there a reason why he thinks I might give him the answer he seeks?”

  She applauded Mr. Smythe’s honor, yet at the same time, it played havoc with her intent to learn where Douglas was.

  “But you can verify that my husband was here on Tuesday,” she said.

  “I will do that much, Lady Sarah.” He stood, a rather impolite way of ending the meeting.

  She stood as well, catching Alano’s glance, and wishing she could tell him that she would deal quite well with this setback. She would not be an object of pity. She bent her head, playing with the catch on her reticule to give her some time to frame her words.

  “Mr. Smythe,” she said, looking up at the man, “can you at least tell me if my husband sought your counsel in the matter of the dissolution of our marriage?”

  Was there compassion in his gaze? Perhaps so, but she couldn’t retreat now. Nor did she shake off Alano’s hand on her arm. Sitting in her bedroom and wondering at the future was so much worse than being faced with the truth.

  She tilted back her chin, and faced him resolutely.

  “I cannot say, Lady Sarah.”

  She bit her bottom lip, clenched her jaw, and was determined not to cry.

  Turning, she glanced at Alano and only nodded at him. Would he understand that it was her way of saying that she was fine?

  “If he had, however,” Mr. Smythe said from behind her, “I would have advised him of the details of the Matrimonial Causes Act.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at him.

  “If I had spoken to him about such a matter, I would have told him that it requires him to prove that his wife had been unfaithful.”

  “I see.” She forced a smile to her face. “Even if it’s false?”

  There was definitely pity now, and she was not going to fade in the face of it.

  “Lady Sarah, if a man truly wishes to divorce his wife, there are ways to do it. Or, if the man is an adventurer, he can simply leave the country.”

  She turned and faced him.

  “Mr. Eston would not have done such a thing. Instead, I believe him to be an honest man with honorable principles.”

  “As do I, Lady Sarah.”

  Wordlessly, they faced each other.

  “I am trying to find my husband, Mr. Smythe,” she said, her pride falling beneath a greater need, that of locating Douglas. “He seems to be missing.”

  His expression changed, became more cautious.

  “When was this?”

  “Immediately after visiting you, sir. Do you have any idea where he might have gone from here?”

  He shook his head.

  “Are you certain?”

  “Lady Sarah, if I had any additional information that I could pass along to you, I would do so. Unfortunately, there is nothing more I can say.”

  She caught the inference in his words. “So, my husband did seek your advice on another matter as well.”

  “I have said enough, Lady Sarah,” he said, walking to the door. He opened it, held it open, and smiled, a perfectly genuine smile if she hadn’t looked in his eyes. He appeared as worried as she felt. “Good luck with your search. Please let me know what transpires.”

  She wasn’t willing to leave quite yet.

  “You have no idea where he might have gone, Mr. Smythe?”

  “Give my good wishes to your father, Lady Sarah. He is the Duke of Herridge, isn’t he?”

  She was almost through the door when she turned and looked back at him. There was a solemn expression on his face, one he’d not worn in all the time she’d been in his office.

  “How do you know my husband, Mr. Smythe?”

  He smiled. “He saved my life, Lady Sarah. I was aboard a ship that sank off the coast of France. Your husband was aboard the rescue vessel. He kept me afloat until I could be rescued.”

  “If I told you that I was going to visit the Duke of Herridge right now, what would you say?”

  “I would wish you the best of luck, Lady Sarah. I would also tell you to be careful.”

  She nodded and left him without another word.

  Edmunds was standing outside, guarding the carriage.

  “You’re going to see him, then?” Alano asked. “He’s not a nice man, your father.”

  “You’re right,” she said. “He’s not a nice man.” In addition, there was every possibility that he wasn’t her father after all.

  “Does your father have a stable?” Alano asked.

  “Yes, of course,” Sarah said. “Why?”

  “Where’s the carriage?”

  She stared at him. “And the coachman? Where’s Tim?”

  Edmunds drove them to the front of her father’s home.

  “You go inside,” Alano said, “and I’ll do some snooping out here.”

  She nodded, left her reticule in the carriage, and stared up at the façade of the Duke of Herridge’s town house. He’d ceased to be Father to her, even in her mind. Even if no one actually came to her and told her that Michael Tulloch was her father, she knew it in her heart.

  As she stood there, gathering up her courage, she knew that what happened next might well change her life.

  Alano watched Sarah enter the house.

  The approach of night was greeted by the lighting of lamps. Next door, a footman exited the house, lit a lamp at the base of the steps, then disappeared inside.

  Alano walked around the end of the block and back up the alley to a small courtyard leading to the stables. Here, too, there were lights burning brightly against the darkness. All in all, the place was relatively spacious for a London home, with eight stalls for horses and three bays for carriages.

  All eight stalls were occupied by fine-looking horses, all more than acceptable for pulling the two carriages located there. Each of them was ebony, heavily lacquered, but only one boasted a small ducal crest on the door. The other was brand-new, and belonged to Douglas.

  He approached the stable complex warily, hearing whistling but being unable to pinpoint the source. A young man suddenly emerged from one of the stalls, pitchfor
k in hand.

  Alano took a few steps forward. He flexed his hands, and began to smile, wondering if he’d get a chance to practice his boxing. It had been a long time, but he was more than willing to test his skills.

  He began to grin.

  Chapter 32

  “The Duke of Herridge is an excessively greedy man, Simons,” Sarah said, probably the most personal remark she’d ever made to the majordomo.

  From his expression, he wasn’t exactly certain how to answer her.

  “I believe that he would do anything to acquire wealth,” she added.

  She removed her bonnet, and handed it to him. Slowly, she divested herself of the gloves as well.

  “I am sorry for my part in that, Lady Sarah,” he said, placing her garments on the sideboard.

  “I am not speaking of my mother’s jewels, Simons,” she said. “But of other deeds. Are you involved in those as well?”

  She eyed Simons. This man probably knew more about the duke than any other living individual.

  “I am not certain, Lady Sarah,” Simons said, his voice a mere whisper, “whether it is greed or desperation that compels your father’s actions. He is, after all, a duke, and expected to live a certain way and to demonstrate a certain style of living.”

  “He has no money.” She’d occasionally wondered about her father’s income, about his insistence in taking from Chavensworth anything worth selling, but she’d put it down to her father’s lavish spending. She’d never thought that he was completely without funds.

  “Is that it, Simons?”

  The man didn’t answer, but his silence was assent enough.

  “When the opportunity came along to get me married without any expense on his part, it must have seemed heaven-sent.”

  Simons allowed himself a small smile. “As you say, Lady Sarah.”