The Master Of Strathburn

by Amy Rose Bennett

  A masterful touch, thought Robert. Anger fairly radiated from the earl as he skewered the captain with a gimlet stare.

  Captain McBryde gave a creditable bow in the face of such noble ire and again explained the situation.

  ‘Rubbish,’ declared his father. ‘Show me this letter purporting there was to be a duel between my sons.’

  The captain pulled a somewhat soggy piece of parchment from the folds of his scarlet jacket beneath his greatcoat and handed it to over. His father ran his gaze over it quickly before glancing up at Robert.

  ‘What is it?’ Robert asked with deceptive mildness. He was already certain what it was his father was about to announce.

  His father cleared his throat, and looked at the captain, a suitably embarrassed expression on his face. ‘As much as I hate to say it, I believe my wife, Lady Strathburn has penned this. This is her personal stationary complete with wax seal and I would recognise her handwriting anywhere.’

  Robert had difficulty suppressing a wry smile. His clever Jessie had been right about who had masterminded the plot against both of them. He addressed the officer. ‘What I find strange, Captain McBryde, is the fact that my stepmother sent this letter to the Guard well before Simon and I had even had our altercation. It was close to midnight when the duel was called. I wonder how Lady Strathburn knew it was going to happen.’

  McBryde looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘Lord Strathburn, would ye mind if yer wife was summoned so tha’ I might have a word?’

  ‘Of course, Captain. I completely understand. In fact I insist,’ replied the earl. ‘Gordon, please wake her ladyship and make it clear that I expect her in the library in ten minutes. And if she isn’t, tell her that I will send several of the Scots Guards upstairs to assist her.’

  Gordon bowed. His mouth twitched again. ‘Yes, milord.’

  * * *

  A short time later, a visibly pale and shaken Lady Strathburn appeared in the library. She was wearing a crumpled morning gown a la polonaise and her hair had been pushed roughly beneath a lace mobcap. Robert watched her from a darkened corner of the room where he had installed himself in a brown leather wing chair. She was so flustered, she had barely acknowledged his presence, other than to cast him an uncharacteristic nervous glance.

  This interview would be interesting indeed.

  His father directed her to a chair before the fire. Captain McBryde stood by the hearth directly facing her, hands behind his back, a truly imposing presence in his full officer’s regalia with a sword at his hip.

  Lady Strathburn looked wildly from her husband to the glowering Scots Guard. ‘Wh-what is it? Why isn’t Simon here with this … soldier? Has something happened to him?’ she asked, her voice quavering.

  ‘Now why would you think that, my dear?’ asked his father, levelling his steely, dark blue gaze upon her.

  ‘B-because of the duel …’

  ‘And how would you know anything about that, my dear? I believe you were abed when it was called last night.’

  Lady Strathburn swallowed and wrung her hands, her gaze darting between her husband and the captain. ‘The servants … you know how they gossip …’

  His father thrust the letter toward her. ‘What rubbish. You detailed the event in this letter that you’ve addressed to the Commanding Officer of the Scots Guard. Do you deny that this is your stationary and handwriting?’

  Lady Strathburn barely even glanced at the page. ‘All right then, yes. Yes, I did write it,’ she admitted with defiance. She raised her chin, a hint of her usual acerbic manner re-emerging. ‘A crime was going to be committed by your traitorous, good-for-nothing son.’

  She then turned in her seat to face the captain. ‘I hope you are going to arrest Lord Lochrose. If he has injured my poor Simon—’

  His father waved the page at her. ‘How did you know about the specifics of the duel, my lady? A duel I might add, that has turned out to be a non-event.’

  Lady Strathburn’s mask of belligerent confidence slipped a little. ‘What do you mean?’

  Captain McBryde spoke at last. He eyed the countess with obvious disapproval. ‘Neither Simon Grant nor Lord Lochrose were in Holyrood Park at the designated time or place you described. It seems you have sent me an’ my men on a wild goose chase, milady.’

  Lady Strathburn twisted her hands again. ‘I don’t understand … perhaps the weather prevented Simon from attending …’ Her next words were uttered with considerable venom. ‘I was so sure Robert,’ she turned her head to his corner and sent him a pointed look, ‘would have made a show to defend his strumpet’s honour.’

  ‘I take it you mean me, Lady Strathburn?’

  Dear God, it was Jessie.

  Robert whipped his head around to the doorway as did everyone else in the library. What on earth was she doing here? This hadn’t been part of the plan. Robert couldn’t bear the idea that she would be exposed to further trials. She had endured enough already.

  She took his breath away. She looked nothing like the strumpet his stepmother had just declared her to be. She stood just inside the door, looking as fresh and lovely as a summer’s day in a silk dress of periwinkle blue; it was another of the modiste’s creations that he had purchased yesterday. Her red-gold hair had been arranged into a becoming, loosely bound style that cascaded down one shoulder. She was undeniably the Viscountess Lochrose, his wife.

  Robert stood and, from across the room, sought her gaze. He hesitated to introduce her for a moment, trying to gauge what she would be thinking. They had become man and wife last night, but did Jessie want him to announce that fact to the whole room? Even though they had exchanged legitimate vows and consummated their union in accordance with the common-law practice of Highland hand-fasting, he had no doubt that Alasdair Munroe would prefer that his daughter was wedded before God in a kirk. As would his own father. As if sensing the reason for his indecision, Jessie gave him a brief but knowing smile before she turned her attention back to Captain McBryde.

  ‘I am Jessie Munroe, Lord Lochrose’s betrothed,’ she said clearly.

  McBryde introduced himself then settled his gaze on Robert. ‘So is tha’ what this is all about, milord? Defence of this young lady’s honour?’

  Robert looked at Jessie, a frown of concern furrowing his brow. He wanted to spare her from whatever public humiliation he could. But how was he to do that, yet make it clear that his stepmother and Simon had instigated the heinous attack on her? That was the difficult question.

  ‘It’s all right, milord,’ Jessie said, returning his gaze steadily as she stepped further into the room. Even though the library was only dimly lit by firelight and the weak morning light filtering in through the windows, it was enough to reveal the shocking bruises around Jessie’s throat. She had tucked a fichu of a fine diaphanous fabric around the low scooped neckline, in a largely unsuccessful attempt to hide the evidence of Simon’s assault. Nevertheless, Robert saw Captain McBryde’s gaze flicker to the telltale marks. ‘It is true tha’ Lord Lochrose sought to defend my honour, but he was sorely provoked by his brother.’

  ‘I would appreciate it if you could describe exactly what happened, Miss Munroe?’

  To Jessie’s credit she did not blush or look away from the captain. ‘Shortly before midnight, after the household had retired for the evening, Simon entered my bedchamber uninvited an’ attempted to force himself on me.’

  Caroline snorted. ‘A likely story. This hussy has been throwing herself at Simon ever since she first darkened our doorstep.’

  ‘Enough!’ her husband commanded. ‘Don’t you dare utter another word against this young woman.’

  Lady Strathburn paled but it did not prevent her from throwing Jessie a baleful glare.

  Captain McBryde inclined his head. ‘Please continue, Miss Munroe.’

  Jessie drew a steadying breath before she resumed her account. Meeting the captain’s gaze again, she succinctly recounted each harrowing detail of her ordeal. Robert couldn’t help but admire h
er bravery.

  ‘Thankfully, Lord Lochrose heard my scream an’ came to my aid,’ she concluded, casting Robert a grateful glance. ‘If it hadna been for him …’

  Her hand rose to her bruised throat. She closed her eyes for a moment before she looked back at McBryde.

  McBryde nodded, understanding and compassion in his eyes. ‘I can see how difficult this is for you to talk about, Miss Munroe. You do yerself credit with yer forthright explanation.’

  McBryde then turned to Robert. ‘I can also see why you would have been compelled to defend yer betrothed’s honour, Lord Lochrose. But you obviously thought better of acting so rashly come the cold light of day. I commend you for tha’.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Robert agreed with a sardonic lift of one eyebrow. ‘And believe me, Captain, it was not easy to pass up the opportunity to give my brother his comeuppance. But in the end, I realised that my desire to be free to wed Miss Munroe was much stronger than my desire to exact revenge. The Tolbooth is hardly the place to begin married life, wouldn’t you agree?’

  McBryde nodded once, a slight smile cracking his seemingly implacable façade.

  Robert moved across the room until he was standing before his stepmother. Now was the time for her to be made accountable for her perfidy. She visibly shrank back into the wing chair, her hands plucking at the sleeves of her robe. It was satisfying to see her squirm.

  ‘Now, dearest mother, would you care to explain how you came by such detailed knowledge of the duel well in advance of it actually being called? Simon didn’t propose the time and place until close to midnight. He was then forcibly ousted from Strathburn House. As you clearly weren’t present during the confrontation, how is it that you were able to inform Captain McBryde about the precise terms of the duel at least two hours before the challenge was actually made, madam?’

  Caroline gawped like a fish out of water. ‘I … Captain McBryde must have been mistaken about the time he received the letter.’

  McBryde cocked an eyebrow. ‘Indeed I am no’, Lady Strathburn. It was precisely five past ten last night tha’ I was handed the letter by my Commanding Officer. There is no mistake.’

  ‘Well, it hardly matters about the timing,’ scoffed Lady Strathburn. ‘Lord Lochrose has clearly broken the terms of his probation by challenging his brother to a duel. Duels are against the law are they not? He should be arrested.’

  Lord Strathburn stepped forward. ‘That is not the case. Robert has forfeited the duel, therefore no crime has been committed. But you, madam, and Simon, seem to have been party to a conspiracy against both Robert and Miss Munroe. I should have the good captain here arrest you for the crimes of conspiracy and incitement to commit violence. You instigated, aided and abetted Simon’s attack on Miss Munroe, a scheme that was clearly designed to provoke Robert into committing a crime of passion for which he would be arrested. You disgust me, madam.’

  His father turned to Captain McBryde. ‘What do you think, Captain?’

  McBryde’ frowned. ‘There is certainly enough evidence to warrant further investigation into both Mr Grant’s an’ Lady Strathburn’s involvement in the attack upon Miss Munroe. There definitely appears to be an element of premeditation on both their parts. Would you like me to refer the matter onto the Lord Advocate’s office, Lord Strathburn?’

  Ignoring the horrified gasp of his wife, Lord Strathburn looked to Robert and Jessie. ‘How would you feel about this being taken further? Especially you, my dear Miss Munroe.’

  Jessie’s brow furrowed slightly as she considered the question. ‘I rather think tha’ you an’ Robert have had to deal with enough scrutiny an’ hardship, milord. I dinna feel the need to take things any further.’

  Robert reached for her hand and raised it to his lips. ‘Are you certain, my love?’

  Jessie nodded, a faint flush brightening her cheeks. ‘You and I are safe. That’s all that matters to me,’ she said softly, her eyes glowing.

  Robert tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and addressed McBryde. ‘As much as I would personally enjoy seeing my stepmother and half-brother charged for their crimes, it would seem my wife-to-be and I have no wish to add to the infamy already associated with our family’s name.’ He glanced at his stepmother; her face was now a sickly shade of green. ‘And by the looks of Lady Strathburn, perhaps the threat of prosecution has been punishment enough for the time being. Wouldn’t you agree, Father?’

  His father’s gaze was decidedly cool as it came to rest upon his wife. ‘Perhaps. I will think on it. At this point in time, I will say that I’m decidedly less inclined to be as magnanimous as I have been when it comes to the allowance I bestow upon her. As for our younger son, I have a mind to disown him completely.’

  Lady Strathburn’s jaw dropped. ‘You’ve already banished Simon from this house,’ she gasped. ‘Surely you wouldn’t cut off his only source of income. He would be ruined. Think of the scandal, William.’

  ‘Perhaps you should have thought of that before you and Simon both embarked on this foul scheme to ruin Robert and Miss Munroe,’ snapped the earl. ‘And I’ve had quite enough of your carping presence for one morning. I suggest you retire to your room.’

  Lady Strathburn rose unsteadily to her feet and turned to leave. However by the time she reached the door, she had managed to dredge up enough bravado to fling one final barb Robert’s way. ‘You play the innocent, but I don’t trust you at all,’ she hissed. ‘You wouldn’t let Simon get away with this,’ she challenged. ‘There must be a reason he didn’t arrive for the duel. What have you done to my son?’

  Robert kept his expression perfectly neutral. ‘Absolutely nothing, my lady. I have no idea where Simon is. If he isn’t passed out drunk in his room at the White Horse Inn, he’s probably holed up in a house of ill repute somewhere. And you know as well as I that the rain would be enough to put him off setting foot outside. I’m sure he’ll turn up.’

  Chapter Twenty

  When Robert descended into the hold of The Phoenix with Drummond an hour later, it was to find Simon shackled in irons in the stronghold below the cargo deck. In the wavering light of the cargo lanterns, he could see that his brother’s eyes were closed—whether he was asleep, unconscious or just plain foxing, he couldn’t be certain. Although he derived some grim satisfaction from the sight, he knew that it was not nearly enough to appease his thirst for retribution. Simon needed to pay for what he had done to Jessie.

  Justice would be served one way or another.

  ‘As soon as he knew I had a pistol, he fainted dead away,’ explained Drummond with a chuckle. ‘He knocked his head on the handle of the carriage door on the way down. There’s only a wee bump mind. Would you like me to call Tobias to fetch a bucket of bilge water to throw over him? Tha’ should startle him out of wha’ever fug he’s in.’

  Robert peered down at Simon through the latticed bars. ‘Time to wake up,’ he called. ‘You’ve languished down there long enough.’

  Simon cracked an eyelid and groaned. ‘You bastard. You won’t get away with this.’

  Robert smiled. ‘Oh, I think I will, especially after you write your mother a farewell letter. How are your dictation skills?’

  ‘Go to hell.’

  ‘From where I stand, I rather think that’s where you are, dear brother.’

  The bosun’s mate and Tobias were summoned and within a few minutes, they had hauled a still shackled Simon out of the stronghold and up to Drummond’s cabin where he was unceremoniously deposited onto a chair before the captain’s desk. Tobias and the bosun’s mate took up positions by the door whilst Drummond slouched negligently in his own seat, a darkly amused expression on his bearded face; he played the role of an hirsute, menacing pirate very well.

  Robert leaned against the desk, his arms folded across his chest, staring down at his brother. In the grey light filtering through the cabin’s windows he noticed that beneath the various cuts, scratches and bruises, Simon’s face had also developed the greenish pallor of one wh
o was decidedly seasick. He smiled inwardly at the thought.

  ‘You can’t do this,’ Simon ground out, resting his forehead in his hands. Below his brother’s grubby lace cuffs, Robert could see that the shackles had already left raw, reddened areas on his wrists. ‘It’s kidnapping.’

  Sardonic amusement twisted Robert’s mouth. ‘Oh, but I can. And I think kidnapping is too harsh a word. Think of it more as … gainful employment. You’re about to discover what it’s like to be an able seaman. Once the ship’s underway, you’ll be expected to work like anyone else on board.’

  Simon dropped his hands and shot Robert a look of pure hatred. ‘Over my dead body.’

  All trace of humour left Robert’s expression. ‘Believe me. That can easily be arranged.’

  Simon snorted. ‘You don’t have the guts. You didn’t even show for the duel.’

  Drummond stood abruptly and leaned forward over the desk. ‘I’d take him at his word, laddie,’ he growled. ‘Yer brother used to be a mercenary, ye ken. There’s verra little he wouldna do.’

  Simon suddenly paled. ‘I’m going to be sick.’

  Drummond sighed heavily and nodded at the bosun’s mate. ‘Och, give the puling pup a bucket.’ By the time Simon had finished emptying the contents of his stomach, Robert had a quill, ink and parchment at the ready.

  Simon wiped his mouth on his sleeve. ‘I’m not going to write a bloody thing,’ he muttered with less conviction than before.

  Robert sighed. ‘I thought you might say that.’ However, he doubted that he would need to actually administer any type of physical coercion. Like most bullying cowards, Simon would likely accede to his demands at the mere hint of anything that was even remotely painful.

  Making a show of it, he shrugged off his greatcoat and riding jacket and began to roll up his shirtsleeves, flexing the taut muscles of his forearms. He glanced back at Simon and noticed him licking his lips. He was nervous.