Devil's Moon

by Amanda Scott

  Robina considered the suggestion. “ ’Tis true he has a title now,” she said. “But he should learn to look after himself and his belongings before turning those duties over to anyone else. Neither Rab nor I had personal servants before we were thirteen, Ada.”

  “Ye wasna, either o’ ye, master of Coklaw yet, neither, m’lady.”

  Robina glanced at Corinne, who continued to fold the garments before her as if she heard none of their exchange.

  “Och, aye, she hears, as do I, but I don’t know about this, Beany. We learned to do what servants could do for us, to learn how such things should be done.”

  Sending Rab a silent curse, wishing yet again that he were at hand in the flesh, to deal with Ada Greenlaw…

  “My flesh lies six feet underground, lass.”

  “I know, I know,” she muttered without thinking.

  A hastily stifled gurgle from Corinne warned her belatedly to collect her wits just as Ada said, “I ken fine that ye ken the facts, m’lady, but that gets us nae forwarder.”

  Flushing warmly, Robina realized that the housekeeper thought she had been commenting on her previous statement. “I did not mean to be rude, Ada,” she said. “But Benjy should learn the proper way of doing things before he orders servants of his own about. Laird though he is, he is ill-prepared for such responsibilities. However, if you or Greenlaw had someone in mind for the position…”

  “I do not, m’lady,” the housekeeper said stiffly. “Nor has Greenlaw suggested such a thing. I but spoke me mind to ye.”

  “And I am grateful to you for your advice and your candor,” Robina said sincerely. “Prithee do not think otherwise. I don’t know how we would get on here, Ada, without your wisdom and experience to guide us.”

  Her sensitivities visibly assuaged, Mistress Greenlaw nodded. “I’ll just take this basket o’ laundry down then, so Mary and Gert can get on with it.” With that, she carried the basket in her usual stately way out of the room and down the stairs.

  Exchanging a look with Corinne but making no comment and hearing none, Robina finished her portion of the folding. When she looked around to be sure they had done all they could, Corinne said to her with a grin, “Ha’ ye seen the new lad yet, mistress?”

  “Which new lad?”

  “That Jem Keith I told ye aboot, the one Sir David left here wi’ Jock Cranston. I dinna ken how ye’d miss seeing such a fine, strong chappie.”

  “I am sure he is a good man, Corinne, but I expect Jock and Sandy have kept him busy. Also, I have been out with Master Benjy these past mornings. Prithee, finish up here and then order me a bath. After all our turning out of kists and such, I feel as if I’ve bathed in dust. If it would not shock everyone, I’d run out into the rain to get clean again.”

  “If ye did, ye’d likely see that Jem-lad,” Corrine said. “I doubt that a wee bit o’ rain worries the likes o’ him. He’s one as kens what he wants.”

  Robina decided that she’d better have a look at Jem Keith if only to judge whether he should be flirting with her always flirtatious but hopefully still innocent maidservant.

  It was raining harder than ever, though, so she decided she’d be wiser to see if Benjy had come in yet. If not, she would send someone to fetch him. The boy caught cold too easily to be out long in such weather.

  Chapter 5

  The Scott women and Lady Rosalie were on the dais when Dev and Wat entered the hall. Lady Meg stepped forward to meet them with her usual grace and the big smile that Dev had hoped to see. It altered her plain features amazingly.

  “Sir David,” she said, extending her right hand in a natural but nonetheless regal manner, “we welcome you. It has been long since your last visit.”

  “ ’Tis my misfortune, madam,” he said, returning her smile. “Meantime, you continue to look well, I am happy to say, and grow ever more beautiful.”

  “You are kind, sir, or a scandalous rogue,” she replied with a touch of tartness. “I have never possessed the smallest claim to beauty.”

  “Blethers,” he retorted. “You have the most charming smile I have ever seen. I look forward to seeing it whenever I come here and would be sadly disappointed if you failed to reward me with it.”

  “Now who is talking blethers?” she demanded, but even her eyes smiled now. “Not that I dislike compliments from handsome young men, you understand, so you must not stop offering them. But I forget my manners,” she added abruptly. “I believe you have never met my sister Rosalie, so I shall present you to her as soon as you make your greetings to Molly and Lavinia.”

  Turning to Wat’s beautiful tawny-haired wife with an apologetic smile—although he knew that, like everyone else at the Hall except Wat, Molly usually deferred to Lady Meg—Dev greeted her with pleasure and then spoke to Wat’s mother.

  Lavinia, dowager Lady Scott, was a fading, fragile beauty who looked nearly as old as Lady Meg despite being two decades younger. After exchanging brief pleasantries with her, he dutifully turned his attention to the lady Rosalie Percy.

  He saw little resemblance to Lady Meg in her prettier, more stylishly-garbed sister, although she boasted the same slender, softly rounded figure as Meg’s. But, although he deduced that Rosalie must be nearing fifty, the abundant hair beneath her simple veil was darker than Meg’s and still lustrous. Also, despite being a widow and having borne two sons, Rosalie’s twinkling eyes and flirtatious smile revealed a less dignified personality.

  Dev suspected that she usually found life more amusing than not.

  Wat cut their conversation short by declaring that supper was ready to serve, so Dev hastily greeted his host’s two younger sisters. Fair-haired Janet was a year younger than Robina. Bella was twelve, had dark hair, and was rather pert. Dev liked them both.

  Privacy screens separated the dais from the lower hall, where a buzz of low-voiced conversation continued throughout the meal.

  Dev sat at his host’s right, and Molly Scott sat next to her husband with the three older ladies next. Janet and Bella sat beyond them.

  Menservants had no sooner served everyone and withdrawn than Lady Molly leaned forward and said to Dev across Wat, “I’m told you’ve come from Ormiston, sir. I hope your family is well.”

  “They are, my lady,” he replied, leaning forward to see her. “I saw only Father and Fiona, though, and stayed two nights with them.”

  “You rode there from Liddesdale, did you not?”

  “I had been at Hermitage, aye,” he said, feeling Wat’s steady gaze on him and wondering what else Molly had heard.

  Tucking a stray tawny curl back under her veil, she said, “Did you stop at Coklaw on your way, or did you go straight on to Ormiston?”

  “I did look in briefly at Coklaw,” he admitted.

  “How are Robina and Benjy getting on?” she asked gravely. “I have met them only twice, but I grieve for them both. They must sorely miss Rab.”

  Conscious of Wat’s shrewd gaze, Dev said, “They seem to be getting on as well as one might expect, my lady.”

  Lady Meg put her head forward to see him past Molly and said, “In my opinion, they should not be there alone, as they are. Do you not agree that Robina would be wiser to remove to Gledstanes and take Benjy with her?”

  “Coklaw is their home,” Dev said tactfully. “They have never lived anywhere else. I doubt that we could dislodge either of them if we tried.”

  Wat said, “Douglas said he might install one of his own men there, Gram. He fears that Coklaw is vulnerable now, that the Percys might try to besiege it again.”

  “Blethers,” his grandmother said. “The Fifth Earl of Douglas is…” Visibly catching herself, she went on in a musing way, “That first siege was no more than a successful ruse to add a few Douglases to Northumberland’s army before he joined the Welsh rebels. Recall that he held the fourth Earl of Douglas hostage then. Even so, Northumberland had no hope of tearing Teviotdale from the Douglas grasp just because England’s Henry IV had offered it to him. No Percy can matc
h the combined Douglas and Scott power.” To Wat, she said, “Do you want Archie to put his own man in charge at Coklaw, love?”

  “You know I do not,” Wat said. “I mean to persuade him to put Dev in charge of Coklaw, instead. He’s exactly the right man for the position, because he knows the castle, the area, and the Gledstanes.”

  “Aye, but if Robina stays there, you cannot do that,” Lady Meg said flatly.

  “I agree,” Molly said, with a glance at Lady Meg and another at Wat. “Only think how it would look, sir,” she added hastily. Then to Dev, she said, “Truly, Sir David, you would damage Robina’s reputation and your own, as well. You cannot want to do that.”

  “Moreover,” Lady Meg said, “Archie cannot be so daft as to put a handsome young knight in charge of Coklaw whilst Robina is unwed. Such a warden must be older, and preferably married, someone who can look after Robina and Benjy properly.”

  “I see no such necessity,” Wat said. “Robina merely needs a chaperone.”

  “But finding someone suitable would take much time,” Molly said.

  Dev looked at Wat just as Wat was exchanging a look with his grandmother. Watching them closely, Dev saw Wat flick his gaze slightly past her.

  Lady Meg raised her eyebrows. Then her lips quirked into a half-smile.

  “Will it answer, do you think?” Wat asked her lightly.

  “You’ll have to ask her.”

  “Ask whom?” Rosalie demanded.

  Wat smiled and said bluntly, “You, Aunt. Since you expect to be here for several months, would it not amuse you to stay with Robina until we find someone else?”

  “It is more a matter, I should think, of whether it would amuse Robina,” she said, cocking her head musingly. “She barely knows me, sir. A year ago last November, when I visited, was the first I’d seen of her or Benjy, because they were born after I left Scotland.”

  A lad entered with a fresh jug of wine and moved to refill Wat’s goblet, but Wat stopped him, saying, “Take that into the inner chamber. We’ll be in shortly.”

  Dev felt himself tense. Things were moving faster than he’d anticipated. However, he could too easily imagine, and feel terrified by, an outraged Robina either wrapping a Douglas man around her thumb or driving the poor devil mad. On the other hand, that same outrage if he took charge at Coklaw stirred only eager, if rather fiendish, anticipation.

  Robina ate supper with Benjy in his bedchamber. Having been shocked to find him there earlier—sound asleep, soaking wet, and shivering—she had quickly wakened him.

  “We must get these wet things off you,” she said. “Sit up, and I’ll help.”

  His face was ashen. Rubbing his eyes, he muttered, “I was tired, Beany. I dinna ken why I’m so tired. Sorting tack, looking for cracks and rot, didna seem like work. But…”

  “Right now we need to get you warm. You don’t want to get sick.”

  The boy shrugged. “Jem and some other lads ha’ been sneezing and coughing this past sennight. I didna get it from them, so I willna catch it now.”

  “Ada is right, Beany. Our laddie needs a keeper.”

  Hearing footsteps on the stairs and recognizing them as Corinne’s, Robina ignored Rab and went to the doorway. “Corinne, is someone bringing my hot water?”

  “Aye, mistress, I were just a-coming to set the tub in your chamber for ye.”

  “We’re going to wash Master Benjy first, so be sure it is not too hot for him. He fell asleep in his wet clothes.”

  “Ay-de-mi,” Corinne exclaimed. “I’ll tend to the tub. I told them to hurry.”

  Minutes later, Benjy was in the tub, complaining that he did not need two women to wash him. “I can do it myself, Beany. Ye didna help Rab bathe.”

  “That you did not!” Rab said, startling her by speaking in such normal tones that she looked from Benjy to Corinne, astonished that neither had heard him.

  “What is it, mistress?” Corinne asked, quick as ever to read her expression.

  “Naught,” Robina said. “I was just thinking of what Ada said.”

  “I told you, lass, nae one else can hear me. But unless you’re willing to keep your door ajar all night, lest he sneak out as you and I used to do, you’d best find someone to share responsibility for his safety.”

  “I thought o’ Mistress Greenlaw, too,” Corinne said, fetching a towel. “When she said that about our laddie having some’un o’ his own—”

  “What are you two talking about?” Benjy demanded. “You should not ignore what I say to you. Prithee, recall that I am your laird.”

  “So you are, my love, and Rab did bathe himself,” Robina said, smoothing his damp hair. “But Rab was grown, and you are a boy who needs to get warm. So, let Corinne dry you whilst I put fresh bedclothes on your cot. Then we’ll put you to bed, and you may have your supper on a tray. I’ll keep you company if you like.”

  “I would, aye,” the boy said. “You can tell me stories whilst we eat.”

  She agreed and left him to Corinne’s cheerful care while she sent a housemaid to fetch fresh bedding for his cot.

  “He fell asleep right on top of his cot, Daisy,” Robina said when the maid returned with blankets, sheets, and a fresh pillow. “I’ve stripped the wet things off, and his pallet is barely damp. If you’ll help me turn it over…”

  Fifteen minutes later, Benjy was in bed—this time, under the covers.

  “I’m going to use your water now,” Robina said. “But I’ll be quick.”

  “Aye, ye will, for ’tis likely it be getting cold,” he said with a wan smile.

  The water was lukewarm at best, but she washed quickly and was glad to be clean again. Donning a fresh shift, a lavender-colored kirtle, and a pair of leather mules, she sent Corinne to ask someone to bring their supper to Benjy’s chamber and returned to find her little brother wide awake.

  “I thought you might have fallen asleep again,” she said.

  “Nay, but when do you think this rain will end? I want to plant Rab’s tree.”

  She had been thinking about Rab’s tree, too, and whatever it was that she had struck while digging its hole.

  The blasting wind and rattling rain continued all day Friday, blowing and pelting down so hard that even the rain-loving Wat declared it a bad day to travel. “In any event,” he said, as he and Dev lingered at the high table with their ale after breaking their fast, “we should discuss our tactics before we approach Archie.”

  “He has knights much more experienced than I am,” Dev reminded him. “I’m not even sure I’m right for the post, but I’ll admit, I’d dislike his putting a man unknown to Robina and Benjy in charge there. I worry that Archie might act quickly, too.”

  Wat shook his head. “If Archie acts fast, it will be the first time. His father always made the decisions, so Archie still hesitates to make his own. Because he left the Scottish army in France, declared himself too sick to go back, and persuaded his father to return in his place, I think he feels guilty that his father died there, making Archie the fifth earl.”

  “Even so, no one calls him a coward,” Dev said.

  “They do not, but neither is he a good leader. He cannot make up his mind to order a new shirt without pondering for a fortnight. Moreover,” Wat added, “he’ll resist taking action at Coklaw without first telling me. I have not won my spurs yet, but I am still one to reckon with in Teviotdale.”

  Dev smiled. He could only agree with that. If the Douglas could raise ten thousand men in a sennight, it was only because Wat Scott could provide half of them.

  “I’ve been thinking about your aunt Rosalie,” Dev said. “She’s unlikely to travel whilst this heavy rain continues.”

  “Or as long as it threatens to rain,” Wat agreed with a knowing grin. “But by the time Archie agrees to anything that we might suggest…”

  “I was not thinking of Archie but of Robina,” Dev said when Wat paused. “I do agree that she ought to have an older woman at Coklaw, besides Mistress Greenlaw, to guard her
reputation and, if possible, to keep her out of mischief. But I also think we must warn her before we present her with Lady Rosalie.”

  Wat gave him a straight look. “You, not we, will present her. Gram has known Robby since birth and is right to worry about her reputation. The only wonder is that Robby hasn’t already pitched herself into the briars.”

  Recalling two cows and four wool-laden sheep, Dev clenched his jaw.

  “What?” the observant Wat demanded. “Do you mean to say she has—?”

  “It came to nowt,” Dev interjected swiftly. “Just a lark, harmless.”

  Wat’s eyes narrowed, but Dev met the look steadily.

  “I doubt that,” Wat said at last. “So, if we do persuade Archie to appoint you, Dev, as I expect we will, you must make clear to that pliskie lass that her choices are two. She can accept a suitable married woman or widow—my grandaunt instead of her aunt Clara, if she prefers—or she and Benjy will remove to Gledstanes.”

  Dev nodded. Wat was right. They could not leave her to her own devices any longer. The area was too dangerous, and Robina was mindless of her own safety.

  “I did not expect hesitation from you on this subject,” Wat said, eyeing him shrewdly. “Your reputation belies such a reluctance to issue orders.”

  With a wry smile, Dev said, “ ’Tis not reluctance to issue the ultimatum that delays me but knowing that she will likely murder me for doing so.”

  “You admitted that she is out of charity with you, and I begin to suspect this ‘lark’ of hers as the cause. Do you mean to tell me how you incurred her wrath?”

  “I do not.”

  “I see. May I assume that you discovered it and exacted retribution?”

  Dev remained silent.

  “It does occur to me, you know,” Wat went on, “that the usual route from Hermitage to Hawick crosses Slitrig Water at Woodford. Instead, you had to skirt some hills to reach the Hummelknowes ford and Hawick. That likely—”