How to Marry a Royal Highlander

by Vanessa Kelly

  Their butler, Parkins, was stationed outside the drawing room. As he opened the door, he gave her an almost undetectable grimace of sympathy. Everyone in the household depended on Edie to manage Lady Reese out of her moods, but the servants had clearly realized that their champion had been knocked off her perch.

  Squaring her shoulders, Edie followed her sister into the spacious drawing room. She squinted slightly to see her family scattered around the large space, obviously sitting as far away from Mamma as they dared. Evelyn’s husband was there, lurking at the back of the room like a timid youth instead of the strapping soldier that he was. Wolf Endicott was no coward, though. He came forward to take Edie’s hand while flashing his wife a loving smile.

  “Good morning,” he said. “Why don’t you both have a seat on the sofa?”

  Edie ignored her mother’s irritated huff as Wolf led them to the sofa near the fireplace.

  Mamma was ensconced in one of the elegant Queen Anne armchairs directly across from them. Papa sat next to her, although he’d clearly edged that chair farther away. When he gave Edie a morose smile, it made her heart plunge with a sickening combination of guilt and dismay. Papa was the kindest of fathers and a truly estimable husband as far as she was concerned. All he asked was to have a relatively peaceful household and to be left alone when it came to domestic matters. Normally, Mamma complied with his wishes, but this morning she’d obviously pulled out the big guns.

  Her brother, Matthew, had squeezed his rather large bulk onto an undersized bench in a window bay across the room and was doing his best to appear invisible. Fortunately, he’d shown the good sense to leave his snobby new wife at home. Mary never missed an opportunity to snipe at Edie and Evelyn, and she would have loved to lord it over everyone on such an occasion.

  Mamma waited for them to get settled, her handsome, aristocratic features stony. As always, she was impeccably garbed, her tall, willowy figure and dark chestnut hair set off to advantage by her bottle green, merino wool morning dress. None of her children resembled her to any degree, instead taking after their golden-haired, sturdily built father. Mamma had always deplored the fact that her husband’s yeoman stock had prevailed in her children’s looks. Not that it had held them back. Both Evelyn and Matt had married well, and Edie had no shortage of suitors.

  Although that might very well change after last night.

  “Now that we are gathered,” her mother started in a voice that presaged doom, “it’s time to decide what to do about Eden’s fatal transgression.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Mamma,” Edie said. “That’s doing it rather too brown, even for you. My error was surely not fatal.”

  Her mother’s lips went tight and pale. But before she could snap back, Papa reached over and laid a gentle hand on his wife’s arm. Mamma cast him an angry glance, but held her tongue.

  “I’m prepared to put up with quite a lot from my children,” Papa said in a stern voice. “But I will not allow them to disrespect their mother. Your outburst is both unhelpful and unwelcome, Eden. I expect better from you.”

  Edie winced. Her outburst aside, her father’s reprimand meant that the situation was probably as bad as Mamma thought it was.

  “I’m sure Edie didn’t mean any disrespect, Papa,” Evelyn said, casting a worried glance at their clearly irate mother.

  Edie squeezed her sister’s hand. “No, Papa’s right. I was disrespectful.” She smiled apologetically at her mother. “I’m sorry, Mamma. Truly I am.”

  Her mother’s flinty gaze narrowed until she finally moved her head in a frosty nod of acceptance.

  “As I was saying before I was interrupted,” her mother continued, “we must find a way to deal with the consequences of Eden’s extremely unfortunate behavior last night. Those consequences were made even worse by her choice of a grossly unsuitable partner for her escapade. If she’d been found in such circumstances with a respectable man, we might have been able to manage the scandal in the usual way of things. Sir Malcolm, however, is not a respectable man, and one cannot depend on him to take the honorable course of action.”

  Thank God for small mercies. If Edie had been stupid enough to get caught with one of her real beaus, Mamma would be trying to frog-march her to the altar within days. Sir Malcolm was not only a rake; he was possessed of a very modest fortune and that, in Mamma’s eyes, might be a greater sin than his deplorable reputation. If nothing else, her mother was a very practical person.

  “My dear, are you sure the situation is as bad as you believe?” her father asked. “Since Lady Charlfort is a particular friend of yours, surely she won’t spread any nasty rumors.”

  “No, but her mother will suffer no such compunctions,” Mamma replied. “Lady Morgan may be a dowager countess, but her conduct has always been exceedingly crass. I suppose that’s not surprising given that her father was a member of the mercantile classes.”

  “Horrors,” Edie muttered under her breath. Her sister dug a warning elbow into her ribs.

  “Despite my best efforts last night,” Mamma went on, “the worst sort of gossip is already making the rounds. By the end of the day, Eden’s reputation will lie in tatters.”

  “Oh, bad luck, that,” Matt unhelpfully blurted. “Really, Edie, what were you thinking? Sir Malcolm is a complete bounder.”

  Though Edie was tempted to fire back at him, her brother was right. “I know. It was stupid. And he was even rather sloppy about the whole business, too.”

  It seemed manifestly unfair that on top of everything else, kissing Sir Malcolm had been akin to getting one’s face licked by an overly enthusiastic mastiff.

  “We do not need the details,” her mother snapped.

  “Of course not,” Papa hastily said. “And I’m sure you have a plan to deal with this awkward situation, my dear, don’t you?”

  Edie repressed a sigh. Not for the first time, she wished that her dear father would be a little more assertive when it came to family matters. God only knew what Mamma would come up with in her present state.

  “There is only one possible plan,” her mother said. “Edie must rusticate.”

  “That’s the ticket, Mamma,” Matt said immediately. “A little time in the country should do the trick. After all, we’ll all be toddling down to Maywood Manor in a few weeks for the holiday season. And Edie likes the country, don’t you, old girl?”

  Feeling almost weak with relief, Edie smiled at her brother. She didn’t much like the idea of leaving town in disgrace, but there were far worse things than going home for a long spell. And her brother was correct—they’d be leaving London in November in any case. If a little early rustication were her only punishment for last night’s stupidity, she would count herself lucky.

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Matthew,” Mamma said, “but Eden will not be going home to Maywood Manor.”

  Edie jerked upright, as did Evelyn.

  “I won’t?” Edie asked in a disbelieving voice. “Why not?”

  Her mother’s basilisk-like regard returned to her. Edie could imagine herself turning into a pillar of salt under that hard gaze.

  “Because I will not reward your bad behavior,” Mamma said. “And it wouldn’t address the problem in any case. Maywood Manor is hardly out of the way, and there is always a great deal of visiting and socializing at that time of year. Short of locking you in one of the attics for the winter, you would still be very much in the public eye.”

  “Well, we certainly cannot have you in the attic. The neighbors would talk even more,” Edie’s father said, trying for a little joke.

  Mamma glared at him for a few seconds before answering. “Eden should spend the winter with Lady Torbeck, in Yorkshire. Aunt Eugenia has not been in the best of health, and I’m sure she would benefit from some younger company. Besides, it will do Eden good to be of use, for once, instead of flitting about London like a deranged butterfly.”

  Edie stared at her mother in horror. The idea of spending the winter in the wilds of Yorkshire,
especially under the nose of a veritable tartar like Lady Torbeck, appalled her. She might as well hang herself now and get it over with.

  “Good God, Mamma,” Evelyn said, sounding as horrified as Edie felt. “You might as well bury poor Edie alive.”

  That gruesome but surprisingly apt image propelled Edie to her feet. She hurried to her mother’s chair and sank down, sitting back on her heels.

  “Mamma, I’m sorry for what I did. Truly I am.” She propped her folded hands on her mother’s knee, just as she used to do when she was a little girl and needed to wheedle her way around Mamma’s anger. Because that anger had usually been directed at Evelyn, she understood in a visceral way how awful it must have been for her twin to be on the receiving end of their mother’s temper.

  “And I swear I’ll do just as you say and not make any more trouble,” she continued, staring earnestly into her mother’s cool green eyes. “I’ll be quite the reformed character, you’ll see. Just don’t send me away from everybody.”

  She hated the little catch in her voice and knew that Mamma would hate it, too. Her mother was never one for excessive displays of emotion—at least the more sentimental ones—and she would no doubt feel that Edie was trying to manipulate her.

  But Edie wasn’t. The idea of spending the winter in lonely exile in Yorkshire made her feel like the world was crashing down on top of her.

  For several fraught seconds, her mother’s gaze remained cold. Then, she blinked, and a small, weary sigh passed her lips.

  “My dear, I don’t do this simply to punish you,” she said, resting a slender hand on Edie’s clenched fists. “You believe that your popularity will allow you to weather the worst of the gossip, but I assure you that such is not the case. The ton is unforgiving in these matters. Your friends will snub you, and your suitors—the eligible ones, anyway—will avoid you. People will lie about what you’ve done and won’t care that they are lying. Your reputation will be irrevocably stained.”

  Though her mother’s features had softened with sympathy, her words were like a giant hammer pounding Edie down onto the carpet.

  “I’d like the chance to try,” she said. “To face it head-on and see if I can get through it.”

  All sympathy leached from her mother’s gaze. “I will not allow you to put yourself or this family through such a doomed enterprise. It would only make matters worse.”

  Edie heard the soft rustle of her sister’s skirts behind her. A moment later, Evelyn’s comforting hand rested on her shoulder, and Edie had to blink back tears. Evelyn was always there for her, and the idea of so long a separation from her twin was gutting.

  “Mamma, must it be Yorkshire?” Evelyn asked. “Surely there’s some other alternative.”

  The sound of a masculine throat being discreetly cleared had Edie turning around. Wolf had been so quiet up to this point that she’d forgotten he was in the room.

  “I don’t mean to be interfering,” her brother-in-law said. “But I have an idea about that.”

  He directed an apologetic smile at Mamma. He looked absolutely harmless, which was truly ridiculous. Until recently, Wolf had been a spy for the Crown, and Edie knew he was more than capable of doing whatever needed to be done.

  Mamma had grown quite fond of Wolf since he’d come back into Evelyn’s life—partly because he was the son of the Duke of York. Even though he’d been born on the wrong side of the blanket, Mamma found it rather grand to have a son-in-law with royal blood running through his veins.

  “Yes, William?” Mamma asked with an encouraging smile. “What would you suggest?”

  When Wolf glanced at Edie and smiled, a dreadful sense of foreboding stole over her.

  “What would you think,” he said, “of spending the winter in Scotland?”

  Chapter Two

  Captain Alasdair Gilbride, late of the Black Watch, eyed Aden St. George with distaste. “So, if I don’t return to that benighted castle, Dominic Hunter will haul my arse in front of Prinny and have me ordered back to the Highlands. Do I have that right?”

  His cousin lifted the glass holding a generous portion of scotch, admiring the rich amber hue within the sparkling cut crystal. “You do. By the way, Alec, this is a very fine whiskey.”

  “It should be. It came from one of the oldest distilleries in Scotland.” He didn’t bother to mention that his family owned the distillery. “But you’re dodging the issue, Aden. I refuse to believe that there isn’t some mission you could send me on. Surely there’s still a need for spies, even after we put the boots to Boney.”

  Aden’s heavy sigh sounded more like an expression of sympathy than exasperation. Not that sympathy was likely to get Alec where he wanted to be, which was anywhere but Scotland.

  The library of his grandfather’s London mansion was a gracious and noble room, if one’s taste ran to styles favored over half a century ago. Although the house was kept spit-cleaned and polished by a small but capable crew of servants, it hadn’t truly been a home in years. Alec couldn’t remember the last time his grandfather had visited London. The only reason the Earl of Riddick had kept the place was for Alec to occasionally camp out there during his infrequent trips from the Continent during the war. As such, the house seemed trapped in another era, even down to the books. Alec was willing to bet that no new volumes had been added to the library since the previous century.

  “There will always be a need for spies,” Aden said, “but that doesn’t mean we need you to be running around in disguise, rooting out conspiracies and killers. We have plenty of agents on hand, so we do not need the heir to an earldom risking his life on dangerous missions. You’re getting too old for that, anyway.”

  Alec scoffed. “Good Gad, I’m only twenty-six, you idiot. Considerably younger than you.”

  “Then it’s time you listened to your elders. And to your superior in the service, I might add. I’m giving the orders now, Alec, and I’m ordering you to go home.”

  Alec scowled at his cousin. When Dominic Hunter, the best spymaster England had seen in a generation, had retired, Aden St. George had stepped into his place. He now ran a significant portion of the Intelligence Service, and his word determined whether Alec would stay or go.

  Aden stretched out his booted legs and dangled a negligent hand over the arm of one of the leather club chairs that faced Alec’s desk. To the casual observer, he looked like the average Corinthian, entirely at his leisure until he lounged off to a cockfight or to his club. But Alec knew how false that impression was. His cousin was still one of England’s most effective and lethal spies. Neither marriage nor his promotion to head of mission had changed that.

  “Alec, you’ve earned the rest,” Aden said. “You spent ten years fighting. You’re heir to one of the most powerful titles in the Union. You have a place in the world and a role to play, and it’s time you faced up to that. And perhaps you could try, for once, to enjoy the privileges inherent in that position instead of running away from them. Most men would kill to be where you are.”

  Alec almost inhaled a snort of whiskey at the idea that he would actually enjoy the obligations that awaited him back at Blairgal Castle. And as for whether he had a right to the attendant privileges that remained to be seen.

  “Some might not agree that the earldom actually is mine in the first place.”

  “You mean you might not agree,” his cousin replied. “To anyone that matters, you are the legitimate son of Walter Gilbride and his wife, Lady Fiona, the only child of the Earl of Riddick. And since Scottish earldoms can pass down through the female line, that makes you Riddick’s heir. Anyone who says otherwise will not just have your grandfather to deal with, but the Prince Regent.”

  That was true enough. His grandfather had always stood by his daughter, even after her brief, adulterous affair with Prinny’s brother, the Duke of Kent. And so had Walter Gilbride, her husband and, for all intents and purposes, Alec’s father. Walter insisted that Alec was his true son, and the old earl was just as adamant that hi
s grandson was the rightful heir to Riddick. Alec’s relatives had never been anything but steadfast in their loyalty to him and to his mother’s good name, denying any rumors or gossip that suggested he had been born on the wrong side of the sheets.

  Too bad all that loyalty made him feel guilty as hell.

  “Alec, it’s time to go home,” Aden went on. “If you give it a chance, you might find it easier than you think.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Alec said absently as he swirled the last bit of whiskey in his glass. When he glanced up to catch his cousin’s ironic stare, he winced. “Sorry about that.”

  In fact, it hadn’t been easy for Aden St. George to come out of the shadows and rejoin his family. Everyone knew that Aden was Prinny’s bastard, just like they knew that his mother’s husband had resented the cuckoo in his nest. Aden had been estranged from his mother for a long time, and only his stepfather’s death had allowed them to reestablish a relationship.

  “You know how bloody difficult it all is,” Alec said. “Families are a royal pain in the arse.”

  Aden laughed as he came to his feet. “With the emphasis on royal. But I’ve found it to be worth the effort.”

  Alec rose and strolled around the desk. “And how is your wife? I trust Lady Vivien is no longer reaching for a basin every ten minutes.”

  His cousin unleashed a grin that on a less imposing man would have looked almost fatuous. “Fortunately, Vivien seems to have gotten over that. Now she’s simply hungry all the time. I suppose she’s making up for two months of bland food and gruel.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. I hope the rest of her pregnancy continues without further incident.”

  “I’m sure it will. Let me know when you plan to leave London. Vivien and I would like to see you again before you go.”

  “You’ll be the first to know,” Alec responded in a dry voice.

  Never would be the answer if he had his druthers. But there was no point in delaying. The old earl was in declining health, and Alec would never forgive himself if Grandfather died before he saw him again. Ten years was a long enough time to avoid the inevitable. He needed to return home and face all that awaited him, including a very particular problem that had been a millstone around his neck for ages.