Scandalous Lords and Courtship

by Mary Lancaster

  His previous passages with women had been based on lust and somewhat careless affection, for his first duty had always been to Lochgarron and his people. Only recently had he reached a position from which he could even think of marriage, and that was at least partly due to his small investment in the Duke of Roxburgh’s shipping ventures. He’d envisioned a marriage of mutual respect and affection—after all, he was likely to have known the girl for most of his life—that would bring moderate advantage to each partner. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined feeling like this, and certainly never so suddenly. But he knew that Henrietta was necessary to him, that his happiness depended on her. And more than this, he knew that hers depended on him.

  And so, he rode the familiar paths while his heart sang with possibility. She might not yet be won, but he was winning.

  First, though, he had to keep her safe. And that involved winkling out her misguided burglars, which he had every intention of doing before he went back to her.

  Having galloped almost to his front door, he threw himself off the stallion. “Niall!”

  By the time he’d loosened the girths, the servant was hurrying over from the stables. “See to him, Niall, will you? And then send your brothers over to Ardbeag to help Mr. Ross. And saddle Emperor and the two ponies for me,” he hurled over his shoulder as he hurried into the house.

  “Angus!” he yelled, thundering up the stairs to his bedchamber where he began to pull off his boots. When his all-purpose house servant appeared, he said, “Fetch me Alastair and James.” His coat and shirt landed on the floor with his boots as he reached for his work clothes. “Quickly!”

  It was as he thundered downstairs again that one of Archie’s boys arrived with a note from Mrs. Ross. Her husband had still not come home and her inquiries had discovered that no one had seen him since the morning. Understandably worried, she wanted Rob to search the boundary between Ardbeag and Lochgarron, in case he’d met with some accident there.

  Rob suspected quite a different kind of accident. He suspected Ross had run into the burglars while riding to join Henrietta and himself.

  ***

  There was only one place Henrietta’s burglars were likely to be hiding, given where she’d seen one of them and the fact that he hadn’t so much as glimpsed anyone on the hill afterwards. They’d found the caves.

  “If you’d just waited until dark, we could have gone the direct route unseen,” Alastair complained.

  Rob only grunted. He couldn’t allow himself to think about Henrietta now.

  James muttered, “Well I, for one, would as soon not climb up there in the dark.”

  The climb was bad enough in the rain, which had chosen to favor them with a deluge in the early evening and now showed no signs of letting up beyond an annoying drizzle. The soft ground was muddy, the rock slippery, but they’d climbed up here so often as children that the years seemed to fall away.

  The clouds had created an early dusk by the time they reached the narrow ledge that led to the cave entrance almost directly behind the waterfall. Rob strained in vain to hear any sounds over the water’s roar. With his finger to his lips, he edged around the increasingly narrow ledge to the cave entrance, half hidden by the boulders he and his friends had put there seventeen years ago. Bracken grew close by and spread its fronds over the opening, completing the entrance’s disguise.

  Inside the cave would be dark. Rob unslung the bag from his shoulder and quietly took out a lantern. The others huddled closer while he lit it and replaced the cover. Then Alastair removed a club from the bundle on his own back, and, as planned, Rob and James preceded him to the mouth of the cave.

  Rob paused by the bracken, listening intently. He could hear no movement, no voices above the roar of the water. With any luck, the miscreants were asleep and they could make a quick capture and get this over with. And then, then…

  Mind on the first task, fool, he warned himself. Raising one hand to signal his intentions, he leapt into the cave, James at his heels. Alastair would wait at the entrance and club anyone who tried to escape.

  The bobbing lantern illuminated sloping stone walls. Then, to the left, the air seemed to rush, giving him an instant’s warning before a figure fell on him from above. A pair of boots slammed into his shoulder, knocking him to the ground. He dropped the lantern, which miraculously landed upright, and rolled with the force, hoping thus to escape his attacker.

  James yelled, but Rob couldn’t tell if his old friend was in trouble for his attacker’s full weight landed on him, all but knocking the breath from him. Somehow, he managed to heave himself over, flipping his opponent under him, and raised his fist to knock the man cold.

  Someone lifted the lantern high and Rob stared down at a gagged face that was instantly familiar.

  “Ross?” he gasped.

  “There’s no one else here,” James reported, swinging the lantern around the cave in an efficient sweep, while Rob wrenched the gag and its binding from Ross’s mouth.

  Ross gasped in air and tried to speak.

  “Ally, bring us some water,” Rob shouted, throwing his weight off the older man and crouching to untie his bound hands and feet. “Christ, that was some attack with no free limbs,” he said admiringly.

  “I hoped they’d come back,” Ross said hoarsely, snatched the flask from Alastair and drank greedily. “I hauled myself onto that ledge to take them by surprise. I never expected it to be you. Sorry… Christ,” he added irritably when he lowered the water flask. “Have you nothing stronger?”

  “Not much wrong with him,” James said.

  “I don’t know.” Rob peered at the estate manager. “He looks a bit roughed up to me. You’ve got a cut lip, Ross, and a few bruises into the bargain.”

  “I have,” Ross admitted, swapping the water for Rob’s smaller flask of whisky. “I saw you riding up to the waterfall with Lady Derwent, and rode over to meet you. They took me by surprise on the path, around this side, so you’d no hope of seeing. I couldn’t even shout.”

  “Sorry, Ross, I should have known. We never even realized you were missing until Mrs. Ross sent over from Ardbeag.”

  Abruptly, Ross tried to rise, until Rob held him down with a hand on his shoulder. “Just take a few moments to recover,” he advised.

  “We haven’t got a few moments.” Ross shook off his hand. “They’ve gone to Ardbeag House with the intention of forcing Lady Derwent to give up the gold.”

  Rob’s heart lurched painfully, as if crashing downward into his stomach. “What?”

  “They tried to get it out of me. When telling them the gold was only legend didn’t work, I played the idiot servant who knew nothing—which turned out to be exactly the wrong thing to do because they imagine only Herself knows.”

  “But she’s never been here in her life before! Her husband was never here that I recall, and his father only came once or twice in his life.”

  “I told them that, but they didn’t believe me,” Ross said grimly, holding onto Rob’s bruised shoulder as he hauled himself to his feet. “They thought I was just protecting her. We’ve got to go, Rob.”

  Rob, already striding for the cave mouth, had no quarrel with that. “When did they leave here?”

  “Shortly after they watched you and Lady Derwent ride for home.”

  “Which gives them a few hours start. But still, they shouldn’t get near the house. I sent three good men over to help your people keep a watch.”

  He wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince. He didn’t like that he’d seen no sign of them on the journey here. And he really didn’t like the thought that all Henrietta’s protectors could be out looking for Ross instead of keeping to their posts.

  Chapter Six

  Even on her wedding day, even on the night she awaited her first clandestine lover, Etta hadn’t known excitement like this. She felt like a young, inexperienced girl, and yet her anticipation, her desires were anything but childish. She’d never encountered a whirlwind force like Rob O
gilvy before, nor a man who moved her so by his mere presence.

  And now that he’d gone—where had he gone and why hadn’t he just stayed?—she had no idea how to fill her time until his return.

  She paced restlessly between the rooms of the house, lost in dreams and possibilities. And then scolded herself when her thoughts tried to stray beyond this one night. God knew, the prospect of the night itself was enough to occupy her… Until she all but walked into the waiting, frowning figure of Mrs. Ross at the foot of the stairs.

  “I can’t find Ross,” the housekeeper stated.

  So lost was Etta in her own world that it took her a moment to register the meaning of the words, let alone the housekeeper’s unusual posture. Mrs. Ross was wringing her hands, frowning, a look of panic in her eyes that Etta had never seen before.

  Mentally shaking herself into the present, Etta took her arm and led her toward the front parlor. “I’m sure he’ll be home in a few minutes,” she soothed. “When did you see him last?”

  “First thing this morning. Archie took him your message, but I can’t find anyone who’s seen him since about ten or eleven o’clock. I don’t know what to do. He never vanishes like this.”

  In the few days she’d been here, Etta had to agree with her. On the other hand, no doubt he had been on his best behavior. He could easily have relaxed and wandered into the local tavern. However, when Etta tactfully suggested this, Mrs. Ross shook her head impatiently.

  “He wouldn’t do that, not just now when everyone’s guarding the house from those miscreants who broke in. It wouldn’t be right.”

  It wouldn’t. A sliver of unease seeped into her mind.

  “We have to find him,” she said decisively. “Write Mr. Ogilvy a note and send someone over to Lochgarron with it. We’ll send the others out to scour our own land for him—or his horse, though hopefully, they’re still together.”

  “We can’t send all the men out,” Mrs. Ross objected. “We need to guard the house.”

  “Then we and the servants from London shall guard it,” Etta said. “Although I’m sure we stand in no danger in broad daylight. The rest of the men shall search for Mr. Ross.”

  There was some relief in making those arrangements, although Archie and the men who’d arrived from Lochgarron were, at first, reluctant to go, since their orders from “Himself” stated otherwise.

  “Don’t be silly,” Etta said. “Your guard duty is for tonight. Right now, the most important thing is to discover Mr. Ross, who could be lying injured anywhere on the estate. Find him and bring him home before dark. Hurry!”

  That done, Etta sent Mrs. Ross to supervise dinner, a meal she invited the privileged housekeeper to enjoy with her. It was while they were eating that they heard the knock at the front door.

  Mrs. Ross paused with her fork half way to her mouth, her gaze flying to meet Etta’s.

  Etta set down her glass. Their own men wouldn’t have knocked at the front door. Nor did she recognize the voice exchanging words with Harry, her London-born footman whom she’d brought to Ardbeag with her.

  A few moments later, Morag hurried into the room. “M’lady, there’s a man at the door says he’s found Mr. Ross and needs help to carry him!”

  Etta rose at once, hurrying to the door, a pace behind Mrs. Ross. Although she welcomed any news of the missing man, the arrival rang several warning bells in her mind, not least that Morag had said, “a man,” rather than giving the visitor’s name. That alone was unusual here.

  “Mrs. Ross,” she said warningly, catching up with the older lady at the top of the stairs, from where Etta saw Harry below, still guarding the open front door with his considerable bulk. It struck her that she really might need the poker she’d joked about with Rob. “We don’t know—”

  But Mrs. Ross either didn’t hear or didn’t care for whatever Etta had to say. “Let him in at once, Harry!”

  Harry turned, perhaps to argue the point, or just to see if Etta concurred. Suddenly, he barreled backward into the house, attacked by whoever stood at the door. Another man ran past them into the hall—and he held a pistol in either hand. A third man entered at his heels and kicked the door shut. They dripped all over the well-polished floor.

  “Oh God,” Mrs. Ross said in despair.

  Below, Harry’s attacker sat on his waist, dodging his flailing fists until the armed man came closer and waved the pistol in Harry’s face. Harry subsided. The man on top of him yanked him up by his coat and pulled back his fist to punch.

  “Unhand my servant this instant!” Etta commanded, sailing downstairs with all the pride she could muster. Her one, faint hope was to overawe them until help could come. Even then, “help” seemed to have Rob’s face.

  Her strategy seemed to work. The villain let Harry go and rose to his feet, never taking his eyes off Etta.

  He shook rain off like a dog. “You’ll be the lady of Ardbeag.”

  “I am,” Etta said haughtily. She halted, half way down the staircase. “Who, pray, will you be, and what is the meaning of this intrusion?”

  The man bowed with a mocking flourish, while his armed comrade kept one pistol aimed at Harry, who staggered to his feet. “Doesn’t matter who I am, does it? But aye, come down and we’ll tell you what it’s all about.”

  “Don’t, ma’am,” Mrs. Ross pleaded. “They were lying about Ross. Come back, don’t go near them.”

  “They’ll only follow us wherever we go,” Etta said, far more calmly than she felt. She continued her descent to the foot of the stairs. “Besides, I am insatiably curious.”

  “So’re your people, by the looks of things,” said the third ruffian, gazing toward the kitchen door. “Oblige us and tell your servants we’ll shoot you if they don’t come out here quietly.”

  Her people obviously heard because Francis, her other footman, emerged slowly and unthreateningly from the kitchen door, followed by her abigail and cook and the kitchen maid behind them.

  “You unharmed, m’lady?” Francis asked anxiously.

  “Quite,” Etta said, as though indifferent. “Though, you might look after Harry. Now, my man,” she addressed the chief intruder, “what in the name of goodness is all this about?”

  “Prince Charlie’s gold,” came the inevitable reply. “In there,” he commanded, directing everyone toward the front parlor.

  The man with the pistols kept one pointed at Henrietta. She walked into the parlor as if she didn’t notice and sat in the arm chair by the fireplace. She wanted to ask Mrs. Ross to sit too before she fell, but the trembling housekeeper entered last, and cowered against the wall by the door with Morag. One of the intruders remained near the door, too, though he didn’t pay much attention to the two women.

  Etta folded her hands in her lap in an effort to control their shaking and waited. She refused to show fear, either to her servants or to those who threatened them. Through the open curtains, daylight was fading. The men would return soon, with or without Ross. And Rob would come.

  Her stomach twisted with fresh anxiety. She had the feeling Rob would do something rash to save her. If he were to be hurt, if he were to die…

  “The gold,” said the chief intruder. “Tell us where it is and we’ll be gone. No one needs to be hurt.”

  “Gold?” Etta repeated. “The only gold I have is in what few pieces of jewelry I brought with me. If you must, you can have it, but I’m afraid it’s so recognizable that you’ll get only a fraction of its worth when you try to sell it. And probably arrested into the bargain.”

  “Not that kind of gold,” the villain with the pistols said impatiently.

  “You mean money? I have some notes in my desk. You missed that the last time you were here.”

  The pistol man came closer. “We weren’t looking for them, or your pathetic jewelry. We don’t want scraps. We want the treasure. Prince Charlie’s treasure.”

  “Have you considered asking his descendants?” Etta asked. “In Russia, Count Roehenstart—”

 
“We know it’s here,” he interrupted. “Everyone says so.”

  Etta met the gaze of the chief villain. “Look. It doesn’t matter what anyone says. Rumor doesn’t make a thing true. For myself, I have no idea what the truth is. If there was ever treasure here, I believe it to be long gone. If it is here, I have no idea where. The house has been practically rebuilt twice since the Rebellion.”

  “Then the treasure must have been rehidden,” he said stubbornly. “Where?”

  “I wouldn’t know that even if it were true,” Etta said, allowing a hint of impatience into her voice. “I was never here in my life before I arrived at Ardbeag last week.”

  “Then your family must have told you.” The chief intruder cast what was surely a wary glance at his accomplices. He’d led them on this wild goose chase and needed them to believe in it. He needed to believe in it himself, presumably because his life was otherwise so hopeless.

  Etta said gently, “My husband, from whom I inherited Ardbeag, was never here either, so far as I know. He never mentioned even rumors of treasure to me. Nor did his father.”

  “I don’t believe you! I think that’s why you came here. You’ve either found it already or you know exactly where it is.”

  “Who’s that?” the armed man said suddenly, raising the right-hand pistol from Etta to the window.

  Jerking her head around, Etta was in time to see a female figure, ghostly pale in the gathering dusk, sprint from the front door and run like a hare for the drive.

  “It’s the old woman!” the chief intruder exclaimed. “How’d she get out there? Nicol, for God’s sake—!”

  Etta’s quick, startled glance toward the parlor door was enough to prove that her eyes did not deceive her. Mrs. Ross had indeed slipped out the door and was running from the house as fast as her legs could carry her. But the armed man was taking aim through the window and Etta’s mouth suddenly dried with fear.