by Amy Jarecki
The officer glanced away, as if he had a great many thoughts. “This is grave news indeed.”
“Indeed,” echoed Agnes.
“So you’ve come to provide support?” he asked, regarding her with such intensity it made gooseflesh rise on her arms.
Maddie nodded. “My stepmother is with child. She implored me to come in her stead.”
Lord Aiden’s eyes widened with deep intelligence—or cunning. “I see.”
“Whitehall, m’lord,” the coachman called from above.
Maddie looked out the window as the coach rolled to a stop. A stately redbrick gatehouse loomed above a walkway lined with statues of lions, unicorns, and eagles, and guarded by yeomen in red and black. She shuddered.
Why does it look like a prison?
Plucking up her courage, she allowed Lord Aiden to pay the driver and call upon a host of servants to take charge of her portmanteaus.
An official-looking gatekeeper wearing a periwig approached from the tower. “Where to, my lady?”
Maddie threw back her shoulders and tried to look aristocratic. “The Earl Marischal of Scotland’s apartments, please.”
The man dropped his hands to his sides. “I beg your pardon? The earl has been convicted of treason and his suite has been seized.”
“Convicted?” Maddie’s heart dropped all the way to her toes. “Do you mean to say I’ve missed the trial?”
“No, but mark me, he’s as guilty as Judas,” the man said, puffing out his chest like a peacock. Never in her life had Maddie wanted to issue a slap, but this heartless cur instantly piqued her ire.
“How can you be so sure?” Lord Aiden addressed the man, towering over him by a good eight inches. “As a member of the queen’s navy, I had an excellent view of the pier, and I saw naught but a peaceful welcoming party waiting to greet the prince.”
Perhaps the commander should have considered becoming an advocate rather than a naval officer. But Maddie couldn’t think about that at a time like this. The sun had set and she had no place to sleep for the night. Worse, if she was forced to pay for accommodations, the small sum of coin she’d brought would not go far.
As the coach pulled away, she looked to her luggage. “Good heavens, what are we to do now?”
“Perhaps there is a lady with whom you can stay?” asked Lord Aiden.
Maddie regarded the well-meaning officer. He had no idea that she hardly knew her stepmother, Lady Mary, let alone any of the gentry. Because her father recognized her as his child, she had been granted the privilege of the address lady. Maddie might have been a bastard, but she was the daughter of an earl all the same.
She shook her head, her skin growing hot. Holy crosses, was she to become a guttersnipe in London? Dropping her head, she cupped her hand over her forehead. “There is no one.”
Lord Aiden passed the guardsman a coin. “Please see to it Lady Magdalen’s things are promptly delivered to the Duke of Atholl’s lodging.”
“The duke, m’lord?” Though he sounded aghast, the sentry’s fingers closed around the shilling.
With a flicker of hope, Maddie slid her fingers from her forehead to her lips.
Looking ever so official, Lord Aiden tugged on his lapels. “That is what I said, and I shall see to it that the duke is informed of his houseguests myself.”
The man hastily slipped his hand into his pocket. “Very well, my lord.”
As he offered his elbow, Lord Aiden’s noble countenance didn’t even crack a smile. “This way, m’lady.”
Once out of the gatekeeper’s earshot, Maddie turned her lips up toward His Lordship’s ear. “I cannot possibly accept your father’s hospitality. It would be scandalous.”
Green eyes met hers while a single eyebrow arched. “No one would dare. Besides, your maidservant is employed to ensure your virtue remains intact, is she not?”
“But I—”
“Do not even think about placing a single finger on my lady’s person,” Agnes said loud enough to heard by the dead. “I shall sleep at her door with a dirk in my lap.”
“I would have thought no less, matron.” Lord Aiden chuckled, then lowered his voice. “Trust me and there will be no scandal.”
Maddie wanted to believe him.
The only problem?
Her entire life had been a scandal.
Chapter Six
Aiden paced the passageway outside Magdalen’s door while his heart hammered a fierce rhythm. He’d played right into the lady’s plight like a daft fool.
Jesus Christ, Lady Magdalen was not an experienced courtier. On Hogmanay she’d admitted his was her first kiss. She was as virginal as a bairn.
Och aye, he remembered kissing her… all too well. Though it had been unbelievably thrilling, she’d proved far less experienced than he. He couldn’t take advantage of a novice. And what would that be like—a novice fumbling with a novice—even if she did show the remotest interest in him, which she did not? For all his rotten luck, Lady Magdalen was grief stricken by her father’s plight. She was worried and distraught and a million leagues out of her element. He could see it now. The vultures at court would eat her alive, especially since her father was in more trouble than a pirate on a sinking ship.
Damnation, Aiden had only a fortnight to find a widow—or any healthy woman willing to lead him through the wiles of the boudoir. He wasn’t looking for an attachment. The last thing on this earth a navy man needed was attachment—or a woman in dire need. Besides, what good could he accomplish in a mere fortnight?
Christ, he’d had it all planned. Hide out in Da’s suite and turn it into a love nest of debauchery. Return to the ship with an entire year’s worth of tales that would make MacPherson’s and MacBride’s pursuits pale in comparison.
On the morrow I must help Lady Magdalen find more suitable accommodations.
But she is darling.
He stopped pacing for a moment.
What if I allowed her to stay on a few days?
Absolutely not.
He slammed his fist into his palm.
No bloody chance.
He never should have crossed the road. Damn his chivalrous streak. Before he joined the navy, he would have been elated to have the lady stay with him for an entire fortnight. If he were in the market for a wife, he might even enjoy her company despite the circumstances.
But not now.
And her father was in more hot water than King Charles I, who’d been beheaded right inside Whitehall’s courtyard.
Dear God, Aiden never should have joined the navy.
Crossing his arms, he stared at the door; then he pushed his fist against his chin.
I cannot allow myself to grow affectionate. I cannot allow myself to be overly compassionate, either.
He threw up his hands.
But the poor lass is distraught.
She needs comfort and an advocate to help her negotiate the political waters in London.
And that person cannot possibly be me.
I’d be crucified by MacPherson, not to mention my father. Damnation, Maddie’s da is a flag-waving Jacobite.
Hell, I may as well slip my head onto a chopping block alongside the earl.
He resumed his pacing, clasping his hands behind his back.
However, mayhap I can make a few inquiries on her behalf.
The poor lass. Here all alone, a wee flounder swimming amongst the sharks in London.
Lord knew it was difficult enough for Aiden’s father to keep his nose clean—that’s why Da stayed as far away from this city as possible and only paid a visit when commanded by the queen.
Aiden wrung his hands. No, he couldn’t shake the thought that he ought to have kept walking when he’d seen Lady Magdalen’s crippled coach stalled right across from the alehouse. Now he’d be lumbered with worrying about the lassie’s plight for the duration of his leave.
Damn, damn, damn.
Sucking in a deep breath, he faced Her Ladyship’s door and raised his fist to knock. W
hen he swung forward, the blasted thing opened, nearly sending him stumbling into Miss Agnes. “P-pardon me, miss.” Aiden quickly regained his composure and straightened his cravat. “I was… ah… stopping by to inquire as to your comfort.”
“Everything is lovely, thank you.” She shifted her gaze down the corridor. “But could you please tell us where we might find the evening meal?”
“I ordered a tray of meats and bread to be sent up from the Banqueting House.” Was this his opportunity to speak with the lass alone? He stepped back and gestured toward the apartment door. “Would you be so kind as to find the chief steward and ask him to make haste? He should be easy to spot—out the door, at the end of the passageway turn right, take the stairwell down two flights, and the hall is halfway along the south passage.”
The maidservant held up a finger as if to object.
“It really is quite easy.” Aiden led her toward the door. “And if you’re not certain, anyone along the way can point you in the right direction.”
“Down two flights and then—”
He flicked his fingers impatiently. “Follow the rumble of the crowd. There is always quite a gathering at this hour of the evening.”
After ushering Agnes through the corridor and practically shoving her out the door, Aiden turned to find Maddie standing with her arms crossed. “Do you think she’ll be able to find her way back?”
“Of course.”
Eventually, anyway.
He sauntered toward the lass. “Are your accommodations acceptable?”
“Very comfortable, thank you.”
“And Miss Agnes has quarters above stairs.”
“Aye, the valet showed us.”
“Good.”
A wee blush spread in her cheeks. “But I cannot continue to impose upon you and your father.”
True.
Standing at a respectable distance, he liked how she had to crane her neck to meet his gaze. His tongue slid across his bottom lip while the tension in his shoulders melted away. “Oh no, it is no imposition whatsoever. ’Tis just me, really. Da only resides here when Parliament is in session.”
“I see, and when is the next session?”
“Not certain.” Aiden’s fingers twitched, itching to brush a stray curl away from her cheek.
“Then I am not imposing?”
“Not at all.” He leaned on the doorjamb and grinned like a simpleton. “Not in the slightest.”
Had he just heard himself?
Dear God, I’m daft.
She leaned against the jamb on the other side. “And you? How long will your ship be in port?”
“As of today I’ve been granted an entire fortnight’s leave.”
She smiled sadly, but her grin still looked as radiant as it had when he’d first seen her at the masque. “You sound happy about it.”
“Overjoyed.”
He should be, though the present company stifled his plans—for now.
“I’m so sorry to be such a bother. I imagine you must need solace after chasing James Francis back to France.”
“Not at all.” Aiden sighed. At least the present company was incredibly lovely to gaze upon, and smelled like a simmering vat of lilacs. “I needed time away from the ship altogether. This is the first leave I’ve had in over a year.”
“My, that sounds dreadful.” Her gaze slid from his face and settled on his chest. Her tongue slipped out of the corner of her mouth. Did she have any idea how tempting she looked? If he wasn’t a gentleman, he’d have her pinned up against the wall with his tongue halfway down her throat—mayhap working her skirts up her long, slender thighs. He’d heard enough from MacPherson to have a fair idea of how it all worked.
She met his gaze with a wee exhalation, making that damned errant lock of hair flutter. “After visiting my father on the morrow, I shall endeavor to find more suitable accommodations.”
His gut twisted. “I thought you said that you were comfortable here. Is your chamber not large enough? Would you prefer a better view?”
Aiden looked to the ceiling.
Good God, stop encouraging her to stay, damn you.
“No, no.” She cringed shyly. “I’m just afraid of what people will say.”
Blast it, his hands could remain still no longer. The flippant thing was just too damned enticing. He brushed the wayward curl away. “Because you are a guest of the Duke of Atholl?”
“No, silly, because I’m staying here… ah… with you.”
A fire hit him low and churned through his aching cods. “But you have the companionship of your maidservant,” he choked out with a rasp.
“I do.”
“I could bring in a sentry to guard your door.” Again Aiden looked skyward.
Jesus Christ, do I need to gag myself?
“Do you think it necessary?”
“Not really.” He took her hand and ran his thumb over the petal-soft skin. “Have you a plan to help your father?”
“Aside from visiting him in the Tower on the morrow and asking his advice, no.” Drawing her hand away, she pressed her knuckle against her lips. “I feel like a fish out of water. London. Whitehall. Court. It is all so foreign to me.”
Honestly, though Aiden had visited court now and again, he didn’t quite know what to expect this visit—aside from…
He shook his head. “You are right, Whitehall is nothing like Stonehaven. Every nook and cranny has a spy, the walls have ears—”
She looked into her chamber. “Even these walls?”
“Mayhap the only place in all of London where you can speak freely is within these walls.”
“All right then. Tell me, why is it that you have been so kind? Is your father not a Whig?”
Aiden made it his habit not to reveal his true politics. Doing so would put him in the center of an unmitigated mess. “Och, m’lady. ’Tis well known the Duke of Atholl sides with the Whig Party, as does his firstborn son. But I am merely a second son. I am free to choose any party I wish.”
“But as an officer of the Royal Navy, are you not forced to carry out the queen’s bidding?”
“That is correct, though it doesn’t mean I must leave my mind on the shore. Besides, I joined the Scottish navy. It wasn’t until the Act of Union was passed last year that we merged with the English.”
“You don’t sound very happy about it.”
“Can you keep a secret?”
“Aye.” She looked at him with eyes that could enthrall with a glance.
His heart fluttered like a moth to light. “I’m not at all happy about the merger, nor is any sailor aboard the Royal Mary.”
“But you were part of the armada that prevented James Francis from stepping ashore in Edinburgh.”
“Even officers must obey orders.” Still leaning on the doorjamb, Aiden crossed his ankles. “Though you speak true, my crew was also able to ensure none of the English ships grew overly enthusiastic and tried to sink King James’s ship.”
“King?”
“Aye, you ken as well as I he’s the man who should be on the throne of Britain. It is his birthright, Catholic or nay.”
She smiled. “Well then, I do hope you can help me wade through the mire of naysayers here.” She stepped closer, almost close enough to touch him, her gaze practically boring a hole through his heart. “Will you be my champion, Lord Aiden?”
Hell’s fire, who could resist a pair of blues as round and trusting as Lady Magdalen Keith’s? Perhaps he could make some inquiries, steer her in the right direction.
Mayhap steal a wee kiss afore my next great adventure? After all, what is a day or two out of a fortnight?
“I am at your service, m’lady.” Standing straight, he again reached for her hand, and before she had a chance to draw away, he bowed over it. As he caught the fragrance of lilacs and something a bit more exotic, his heart stuttered. Time slowed while he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before he pressed his lips to her silken flesh. Sweet feminine flesh thrumming with heat.
As his lips plied her hand, the lady’s breath caught with a wee gasp.
The sound made Aiden’s heart hammer all the more.
He straightened and smiled.
Magdalen’s moist lips pursed. “I thank you for your chivalry and kindness, Lord Aiden.”
Blast.
He needn’t ask to know that was her way of telling him a kiss on the back of the hand was most likely as far as she would let him go.
The Tower of London was every bit as cold and menacing as its reputation. Looming above the Thames, the immense stone walls, patrolled by musketeers and pikemen, were about as welcoming as the gates of hell. Thank heavens Lord Aiden had escorted her through the maze of buildings, though it wouldn’t have been hard to guess the dank and archaic structure on the river, covered with pigeon droppings, was the prison. Nonetheless, she wanted to visit her father alone on this first meeting. Fortunately, His Lordship agreed to wait for her without a hint of annoyance.
“You have five minutes,” said the guard after insisting she must see her father alone.
The heavy oaken door screeched on its iron hinges. Maddie peered inside and Da looked up from his cot. His face sunken with worry, he looked as if he’d aged a decade. Rushing forward, she opened her arms. “What have they done to you?”
“Maddie?” He blinked and held his hand to his brow, shading his eyes against the guard’s torchlight.
With a boom the door slammed behind her. “Aye, ’tis me.” She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around his leg. “I’ve been so worried.”
“But why are you here, lass?”
“A hundred pikemen couldn’t keep me away.” She wiped away her tears. “Lady Mary wished to come, but she could not risk traveling in her condition.”
Da smoothed his hand over Maddie’s hair. “Thank God she is not here. The stress would have killed her and our unborn.”
Honestly, it was for the best Lady Mary hadn’t made the voyage to London. For the first time in Magdalen’s life, she could help her father—prove her worth to the family. She rocked back on her knees. “Tell me what happened.”