Scandalous Lords and Courtship

by Mary Lancaster

  Their small lodging house in the noisy city had seen better days. No matter how careful she’d been with the money their father had left, it had seeped away until, much like their family, there’d been little left.

  Hence, their journey to the abbey. To their future, she hoped.

  Doubt and desperation plagued her every step. Had she made a terrible mistake by spending the last of their money to reach this place?

  Brody’s questions as they hiked the short distance forced her to focus on something other than what might happen when she knocked on the door of Blackstone Abbey. She refused to consider the coachman’s reference to “beasts.” She’d been told four men lived here, each injured in the war, each choosing to live in general isolation.

  Men, not beasts, she reminded herself.

  At last, they passed through the gates of the sprawling abbey, and she could see some buildings in better repair than others. What she guessed to be a refectory stood on the east side of the main building, dormitories to the west. They reached the main door, breathless from the uphill trudge with their bags. The massive carved wooden door with its polished brass lion’s head knocker reassured her that someone resided within.

  She set down the bags and nodded at Brody to follow suit. Then she used the knocker to rap on the door, her stomach once again dancing the reel. She straightened her cloak and adjusted her bonnet as they waited, and checked Brody’s appearance, as well. Though his suit coat was a bit rumpled from the coach ride, his excited, bright blue eyes made the wrinkles easy to overlook. Surely, the captain wouldn’t mind that her brother was part of their bargain.

  Just as she debated trying the knocker again, the creak of the door caught her notice. She forced what she hoped was a pleasant expression as the door opened a crack.

  “What do ye want?” the stern demand of the elderly man nearly made her step back.

  “Miss Fiona Ainsley to see Captain Graham.”

  The door opened a bit wider to reveal more of the man’s lined face as he stared at her. He glanced at Brody then back at her. “He doesn’t receive visitors. Go away.” The door started to close.

  “Wait,” Fiona insisted, not about to be turned away when they’d only just arrived. They had no place else to go. “I am to marry Captain Graham.” She lifted her chin as much to give herself confidence as to convince the servant.

  “Says who?” the old man asked.

  “Captain Graham, I believe.” Though she’d never met the man, she’d been advised that he’d agreed to their marriage. “And Sir Stirling James,” she added, hoping the name of the famous Marriage Maker who had helped arrange this match might carry weight.

  “Humph. Wait here.” The door closed before she could respond.

  “That was odd,” Brody whispered. “Why wouldn’t he let us wait inside?”

  “I have no idea. I can’t imagine they’re plagued by frequent visitors.” A brisk wind swirled around them.

  “I hope he hurries, else we’ll get a soaking from the rain.”

  Fiona hardly knew what to think. This certainly wasn’t the greeting she’d imagined. Sir Stirling, a family friend, had assured her that Captain Logan Graham had agreed to marry her. This visit was merely to reassure them both they’d suit. Assuming they did, the wedding would follow within days.

  While she had appreciated Sir Stirling’s recommendation, it had been her brother Duncan’s letters describing his captain that convinced her to agree. Duncan had expressed admiration for Captain Graham’s leadership, honor, and trustworthiness. Her brother had shared that while the man was decisive and firm, he was also kind and compassionate, with a dry wit. What more could she ask for in a husband? Even the last letter they’d received from Duncan, which he’d written the day before the battle where he’d died, had shared his regard for the captain. Duncan had shared his worry that they wouldn’t survive, but even that fear hadn’t shaken his belief in their cause or in the man who led them.

  She swallowed against the lump in her throat. Her girlish dreams of love and romance had died soon after they’d lost Father. Reality had been a harsh taskmaster. Now, she’d settle for a roof over their heads that didn’t leak and the promise of a hot meal. She could no longer provide Brody with either. Working meant leaving Brody home alone, and that wasn’t an option.

  Just as she’d determined she had no choice but to knock again, the door swung open.

  “The captain will see you.” The old servant stepped aside to allow them admittance before closing the door. “Leave your bags there.” He gestured toward the bare stone floor and shuffled through the large foyer.

  Fiona frowned, but did as he instructed, then grasped Brody’s hand and followed the servant through the stark and foreboding hall. Though it was summer, no flowers graced the tables, no decorations hinted at the interests of the inhabitants, nor were there any other signs of welcome.

  They passed through several hallways, climbed stairs, and strode through an open walkway that led to a modest, two-story stone building she guessed had once served as the pastor’s home. Inside, they passed a room that might’ve served as a drawing room, bypassed several closed doors, and finally reached a door that the servant opened. He gestured for them to enter.

  Fiona gave a reassuring nod to Brody, who seemed as unsettled as she, a condition out of character for her lively brother. The immense library they entered held floor to ceiling bookshelves. A low fire burned in the grate. A man sat behind a massive desk at the far end of the room, backed by faded red velvet drapes that blocked most of the daylight.

  He rose by bracing his palms against the desktop, taking care not to disturb the neatly stacked papers. His stern features and the grim set to his lips marred what would’ve otherwise been a handsome face. His dark brown hair was clipped short and combed to one side. Green eyes, framed by long lashes, held irritation as he studied her.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  This angry, suspicious man couldn’t possibly be the Logan Graham her brother had described.

  “Fiona Ainsley to see Captain Graham.”

  “On what business?”

  She bristled at his tone. “Marriage.”

  ***

  The breath whooshed from Logan’s lungs, leaving him lightheaded for a moment. He couldn’t have heard the lass correctly. After another sleepless night that had him pacing his room until the wee hours, he was obviously losing his senses.

  Fiona Ainsley. Her surname was familiar but not uncommon.

  This determined woman with a stubborn lift to her chin couldn’t be his bride-to-be. A pert nose and the slight dimple in her chin kept her from being a traditional beauty, but her large brown eyes and smooth skin were a far cry from the plain woman he’d expected. This woman could marry anyone she wished. Why would she agree to an arranged marriage?

  He’d thought... Well, whatever he’d assumed about his potential bride, it certainly hadn’t been a woman who could steal his breath or look at him as though she expected more than he could give.

  If not for Nurse Charlotte MacLeod, he would not have met Sir Stirling James before leaving the infirmary where he’d recovered from his injuries. He’d agreed to meet the man in order to keep the nurse from haranguing him further. After all, he owed Nurse MacLeod his life. Meeting with the famed Marriage Maker had seemed a small price for all she’d done for him.

  Logan had intended to spend the rest of his days alone after realizing that his body—along with his mind—had been permanently damaged. He was unfit to be a husband in more ways than he could name. Each day, he strove to survive the physical pain and every night, he relived the nightmare of the battlefield where his men pleaded for help he couldn’t give. Somehow, Sir Stirling had managed to convince him to reconsider a life of isolation. Though an unusual fellow, from the moment of their introduction, Stirling had struck Logan as a man of honor.

  “Nurse MacLeod insists you were not meant to become a hermit. Will you consider a wife, if I find one who would make a
good match for you?” Sir Stirling’s eyes had actually twinkled.

  Sir Stirling offered several reasons Logan should reconsider. Would his mother and father have wanted him to spend his life alone? Didn’t he owe it to the men who hadn’t returned from battle to live as fully as possible? By the end of the visit, Logan had agreed to meet the woman Sir Stirling believed would suit him.

  What had he been thinking?

  That had been months ago. He’d forgotten his promise with the assumption that even the famed matchmaker had failed to find a woman willing to consider a less-than-whole man as a husband, let alone one willing to accept life at Blackstone Abbey.

  Although his three friends—and their wives—kept him company, loneliness plagued him. But a wife wasn’t the solution. Once he’d escaped the convincing twinkle in Sir Stirling’s eye, Logan grew more and more convinced of that.

  The young boy with her stepped closer to the woman. Odd, but he resembled someone Logan used to know. A young version of a man Logan had been pleased to command. Logan swallowed hard as a wave of regret washed over him.

  The woman placed a hand on the lad’s shoulder. “This is my brother, Brody.”

  The boy bowed. “’Tis a pleasure to meet you, Captain.”

  Considering the circumstances, the boy’s manners and composure impressed him. Guilt, never far away, settled heavily on his shoulders. He should’ve sent word that he’d changed his mind. Nurse McLeod and Sir Stirling were wrong. Seclusion was the wisest choice for him. He wasn’t fit company for the servants, let alone a wife. He’d make her life miserable before a week passed.

  “I am afraid there’s been a mistake.” He shifted his gaze to the woman, and realized this wasn’t any easier to tell her than it was to tell the boy.

  To his surprise, a glint of anger flashed in her expressive eyes. “If you’re going to determine we do not suit based upon appearance alone, we wouldn’t have bothered to make this journey.”

  “Your appearance is more than satisfactory,” he managed, only to berate himself for making the remark sound more like a troop inspection than an assessment of a woman’s attractiveness. “Rather, you are quite beautiful.”

  A frown marred the smoothness of her brow.

  The awkwardness of his statements proved that he’d be better off as a hermit. His ability to converse was rustier than he’d realized.

  “What is the nature of the problem?” she asked. “I can promise that my brother is well behaved. Neither of us will make demands upon you.”

  He shook his head, unwilling to share the truth—that he was the problem. “I’ll make arrangements to have you returned to Inverness and compensated for your time.”

  “Nae.”

  He raised a brow, certain he’d misunderstood. “Nae?”

  “I understood you to be a man of your word.”

  He stiffened. His word was all he had left. As he opened his mouth to correct her, the boy said, “Please, sir. Fiona is a wonderful sister. Please give her—give us—a chance. I promise, you won’t be sorry.”

  Again, wrenching guilt reared its ugly head. “Neither of you are at issue.” Surely, they’d let it go at that.

  “Then what is?” Miss Ainsley asked. “I do not mean to be forward, but I fear we have very limited options if you decide we won’t suit.”

  As he studied her closer, he noticed her woolen cloak, worn thin and faded in places, and the frayed collar of her gown, just visible in the opening of the cloak. The boy’s clothing revealed more wrist and ankle than it should.

  He tried to brace against the sympathy that filled him. Obviously, life had become difficult for the pair. “Surely, you can return to your home.”

  Her gaze dropped, drawing his attention to her long, dark lashes and pink cheeks. “We no longer have anywhere to go. ’Tis just Brody and I.”

  The idea of the two of them alone in the world touched Logan. But marrying him wouldn’t benefit her. She’d only trade one set of problems for another.

  “I am sorry to hear that. But I am a poor choice, for reasons I cannot explain. As I said, I’ll compensate you for your time and trouble.”

  “Very well.” She lifted her chin, those large eyes blinking rapidly. “When will your coach be able to return us to Edinburgh? Our bags await us by the door.”

  Damn. She wasn’t going to cry, was she?

  “The morrow is soon enough,” he said quickly. “I’m certain you are tired from your journey.” He nearly groaned before the words left his mouth. The two of them staying beyond the length of this interview seemed a terrible idea.

  Heavy raindrops pelted the windows as if the heavens protested his thoughts. That came as no surprise. Heaven hadn’t sided with him for a long time.

  “Payne,” Logan called. Where had the blasted man gone? “Payne,” he tried again before ringing the bell. He had no desire to step from behind the desk and reveal his infirmity. Still, Payne didn’t answer his call.

  A snuffle at the door gave warning before it swung open. Rather than Payne, his deerhound bounded into the room.

  The boy gasped as the dog ran forward.

  “Thorburn, come,” Logan ordered, worried the large hound would frighten the lad and his sister. Half the servants were terrified of him.

  Thorburn ignored him and headed directly to Brody as Miss Ainsley let out a muffled cry. Hoping to avoid disaster, Logan hobbled around the desk, grimacing in pain as his weight shifted to his bad leg. He sternly called to the dog. To his amazement, Brody threw his arms around the beast. Miss Ainsley looked in alarm at Logan then back to her brother. Once she realized Brody was only in danger of being licked, the stiffness of her shoulders eased.

  Logan continued forward in case Thorburn jumped on the slim lad, which would surely knock him down. His knee chose that moment to give way, causing him to catch himself against the desk, clenching his jaw as sharp pain shot up his leg.

  “Captain?” She reached to steady him.

  Damn and blast. She’d only been here a few minutes and already she’d witnessed his weakness.

  “I am fine.” He waved away her outstretched hand. “Thorburn, come.”

  The dog, at last, obeyed and came to stand at his side. Logan ran his hand over the dog’s head, finding comfort in his soft ears and long, wiry coat.

  “Did you call, Captain?” Payne asked from the door.

  Logan scowled at the man’s delay. “Miss Ainsley and her brother will be spending the night. Please see to their rooms.”

  Rather than agreeing, Payne studied the pair then looked back at Logan. “Do you think that a wise notion?”

  “The rain makes the decision necessary.” The last thing he wanted was to send the pair packing only to have them injured in an accident on the muddy road. He didn’t need more guilt in his life.

  Payne peered over Logan’s shoulder at the window then shook his head. “Very well, but this is a poor idea. Mark my words.”

  The old man’s remark surely offended Miss Ainsley, but her expression revealed little. Her brother was too enamored with Thorburn to heed the conversation.

  “Show them to the drawing room until their rooms are prepared.” The sooner they left his presence, the better.

  Miss Ainsley and her brother followed a grumbling Payne out the door. Just as Logan drew a breath of relief, the woman glanced over her shoulder. Her large brown eyes stripped away his mask, leaving him naked before her, all his flaws revealed.

  No, they definitely wouldn’t suit.

  Chapter Two

  “Do not unpack when we’re shown to our rooms,” Fiona warned as she and Brody waited in the drawing room. “We are not staying here any longer than we have to.”

  “But Fiona, he has a dog!” Brody’s renewed excitement knew no bounds. “Wasn’t Thorburn something? I think he likes me.”

  She had to admit the animal was impressive and so friendly to her brother. She’d never seen such a dog. She was also willing to admit how affectionate the captain had been towa
rd the animal, a puzzling trait considering his gruffness with them.

  “We are not staying where we’re not wanted.” Fiona didn’t know what they’d do when they left, but she refused to be a burden to anyone. “We will be leaving come morn.”

  Before she could say more, Payne returned. “This way, please.” He shuffled up the stairs, one gnarled hand gripping the railing. They reached the second floor and he stopped in front of a small door to the left.

  “The young lad will be in this room,” he said as he opened the door to a modest bedchamber. “And you’ll be in the next one, miss.”

  “Thank you.” Fiona gave a stilted nod, aware of the man’s disapproval.

  Payne started to return the way they’d come, then paused to look back. “The captain has had a rough go of it since returning from the war. Any tension makes his...condition worse. Please keep that in mind.”

  Fiona frowned as he moved slowly down the hall. From what illness or frailty did the captain suffer? He had an injured leg, but was something else wrong? Perhaps the servant’s attitude toward them stemmed from overprotectiveness for his master rather than dislike for her and her brother.

  “Someone already unpacked my things.”

  Fiona entered the room to see Brody pointing at his empty bag sitting in the bottom of the open wardrobe and his clothes put away neatly inside. Payne couldn’t have done that already. Nor could she imagine him cleaning the pristine, if simple, bedchamber in preparation for their stay.

  “That’s odd. There must be more servants here than I thought.”

  Brody followed her to her chamber where they found the same. Her hairbrush and other personal items were arranged on a small dressing table as though they belonged. Fiona wasn’t certain what to make of it.

  Although only the barest of furnishings filled the room, including the bed and the dressing table and chair, the room was comfortable enough and the roof didn’t leak. She would count those blessings, even if they’d have them for only one night.