Hugh waved him into silence, abruptly sick and weary with it all. “No,” he said, sighing as he briefly closed his eyes. “ ’Tis I who must apologize to you, Lucien. I had no right to rage at you that way. I pray you will forgive me.”
“I understand.” Lucien’s voice was soft. “And I am sorry if I pressed you too hard. It wasna my intention.”
Hugh opened his eyes to meet his friend’s solemn gaze. “Was it not?” he asked with a bitter laugh. “Then you are the only one with such scruples. There are times, Raghnall, when I wonder that I do not pop like a grape from the pressing.”
Lucien looked much struck by the admission. “And is it your wife who presses most?” he asked. At Hugh’s black glare he added hastily, “I’ve heard ’Tis the way of wives with their husbands, which is why I have labored so hard to remain a bachelor.”
Hugh knew the other man was attempting to make light conversation; still, it bothered him to speak of Caroline so disrespectfully. “No,” he said, surprised to find he actually had to work to keep his tone friendly. “My wife does not press me.”
Lucien poured himself more whiskey before speaking. “If you’ve no objections, MacColme, I am interested in knowing more of your English bride. What does she look like? Is she comely?”
An image of Caroline as he’d last seen her—her hair gloriously tousled and her face flushed from lovemaking—flashed in Hugh’s mind. “Aye,” he said, wishing fervently now for the whiskey he had dashed against the fireplace. “She is comely.”
“And wealthy with it.” Lucien gave a cynical laugh, saluting Hugh with a lift of his glass. “My congratulations, Hugh. You’re a fortunate man, and clever as well, to make such good use of a temporary marriage.”
Hugh felt as if he’d taken a cannonball to the gut, so great was his astonishment. For a moment he simply stared at Lucien, scarcely believing the evidence of his own ears. “And what would you mean by that?” he asked, shifting his weight on his feet in preparation to attack.
In answer Lucien indicated the rose brocade settee beneath the portrait of Aunt Egidia as a young bride. “ ’Tis new, I gather, like the carpets in the hallway and the fine pianoforte I see in the corner. You’ve been helping yourself to her deep pockets, ’Tis plain, and there’s none who would think the worse of you for it. You are her husband, and ’Tis your right.”
Hugh warily lowered his guard, recalling Mairi’s unaffected delight when Caroline had made her a gift of the expensive pianoforte. He hadn’t even known his sister played, or how much she had longed for one of her own. But Caroline had known, and had presented the gift in so gracious a fashion it almost made it seem that Mairi was the one granting the boon by accepting it. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but he did so now, and his pride gave him a belated jab at the realization of the hundreds of pounds his wife had poured into rendering his aunt’s shabby residence somewhat more presentable.
“Caroline has been very kind to my aunt and sister,” he muttered, wishing his friend would finish his whiskey and leave. “She is grateful for the hospitality they have shown her.”
“As well she should be.” Lucien gave another laugh. “Even the poorest hovel in the Auld Town would seem a castle when compared to a madhouse. Which reminds me …” He cast Hugh a speculative glance. “Will you be removing soon to the New Town? ’Tis all the thing for the wealthy to take up residence there.”
At the end of his patience and not scrupling to show it, Hugh drew himself up with rigid pride. “Why should I do that?” he demanded, making no effort to soften his tone. “I will soon be returning to the castle, and until then I see no reason to move. Aunt Egidia’s home suits me fine.”
“Aye, it suits you.” For the clever man Hugh knew him to be, Lucien seemed amazingly thick. “But what of your rich wife? She’s English, is she nae, and now that they’ve rebuilt Edinburgh to their taste, I assumed she would wish to move there.”
Hugh said nothing, despite a mounting sense of disquiet. As it happened, he and Caroline had been looking at houses, and admittedly it was the newer homes about St. Andrew Square which had most interested her. She’d never spoken of actually purchasing one, and after a while he’d shrugged aside the matter. Now he couldn’t help but wonder how he would react should she insist upon buying one of the elegant homes.
“Have you any other messages you wish to convey to the clan?” Lucien had set down his glass and seemed finally ready to take his leave. “I should be happy to deliver them.”
Hugh thought for a moment and then shook his head. “None,” he said, feeling faintly ashamed by the sense of relief he was experiencing. Hospitality toward a guest was no small thing in Scotland, and the knowledge that he had been anything but hospitable toward a guest who had traveled so far on his behalf stung him. “Must you go?” he asked, anxious to make amends for his poor manners. “I was hoping you might stay to share supper with us.”
“Thank you, no, but ’Tis best I was on my way.” Lucien refused the offer with a gracious smile. “The clan is anxious for word of you, and I promised to bring it quickly as I could. When will you be home, do you think?”
Home. Hugh let the beauty of the word sink inside him, stilling his rising disquiet. “Tell them I hope to be with them within a week,” he said, mentally reviewing all that was left to be done. “Sooner, perhaps, if all continues to go well.”
“Wednesday next, then, we shall say, just to be certain,” Lucien agreed. “Pray give my regards to your family, Mairi most especially; I am sorry to have missed her. And MacColme?” He eyed Hugh solemnly. “A word of advice, if I may.”
Hugh steeled himself as if for a blow. “What is it?”
“Dinna tarry long,” came the soft counsel. “Come home. Loch Haven has sore need of her laird.”
“Oh, Mairi, it’s perfect!” Caroline stood in the center of the flagstone entryway, her eyes alight with pleasure at what she saw. “Isn’t it quite the loveliest house you have ever seen?”
Mairi glanced dutifully about her. “Aye, ‘tis,” she agreed good-naturedly. “And considering the number of homes we’ve marched through these past few days, I would call that high praise indeed.” She turned to give Caroline a teasing look, her green eyes merry. “Will you be having it, then?”
Caroline gave a distracted nod, her mind already whirling with tenuous plans. A long clock just there, she decided, studying the corner opposite the curving staircase, and perhaps a cherrywood side table next to the door, with a silver tray to receive the calling cards of their visitors. She gazed at the expanse of blank wall painted a soft, muted rose and lavishly trimmed with cream-colored cornices. She’d inherited several paintings upon her parents’ deaths, and thought they would look quite lovely hanging there. There was nothing like a few family portraits to turn a house into a home, she mused, feeling a decided air of proprietorship.
“Caroline?” The questioning note in her sister-in-law’s voice made Caroline start, and she grew red-faced in chagrin.
“Never mind,” the younger girl said with a laugh before Caroline could speak. “I can see the answer plain in your face. But dinna you think you should show the place to Hugh first? He may nae like it so well as you.”
The sisterly warning dimmed some of Caroline’s burgeoning pleasure, and she fell into a worried silence. Hugh had accompanied her and Mairi on several of their explorations about Edinburgh, seeming to delight in showing her the fine buildings and great institutions which had earned the ancient city the sobriquet of “the Athens of the North.” He’d even toured several of the houses Mairi had alluded to with them, offering witty and sometimes provocative asides that had her laughing and blushing by turns. To be sure, the subject of actually purchasing one of the houses had yet to be broached, but he had to know that was her intention.
“Do you think he will like it?” she blurted out, giving voice to the sudden uncertainties nagging her. Although the money was hers, legally it was Hugh who held the purse strings, and it would be his n
ame upon the deed. She wondered if he would allow her to keep it once their divorce was finalized, and then winced at the sharp pain that shot through her at the thought.
“Well, he would be very hard to please did he find the slightest fault,” Mairi declared stoutly, threading her arm through Caroline’s. “But the devil take my troublesome brother! He will live where you tell him and like it. Now, tell me how you mean to decorate the place. I want to hear everything.”
Caroline complied, eagerly describing her vision of what the house would be. She was discussing her plans for the hall when a sudden thought occurred, and she turned to Mairi.
“I am certain Hugh must have portraits he will wish to hang,” she said, studying the other girl curiously. “Are there many?”
“Not so many as that,” Mairi replied, looking thoughtful. “We Scots are not like the English, to be forever posing for some dolt of a painter. My father would never agree to it, and the other paintings we had were seized with everything else.
“There is my mother’s miniature,” she added, with a bright smile. “You might have a larger copy made to hang here. That would make a grand present for Hugh.”
“Your mother’s miniature?” Caroline repeated, thinking that Mairi was right, and that it would make the perfect gift.
“Aye, the one Hugh gave you after your arrival.” Mairi was gazing at her with a puzzled look. “He did give it to you, did he not? It was meant for his wife, he always said.”
A shaft of pain shot through Caroline at Mairi’s artless observation. His wife, she thought, an uncomfortable lump forming in her throat. His real wife, he must have meant, and not the woman who would be in his life but for a year.
“Caroline?” Mairi gently touched her arm. “What is it? You’ve the queerest look on your face.”
The rattle of the door handle announced the return of Mr. Penderson, the solicitor Caroline had engaged to help her find a house. He’d taken his leave shortly after admitting them to the vacant house, having learned Caroline preferred exploring prospective homes without him trailing after her like a puppy.
“Ah, Lady Caroline, Miss MacColme.” The solicitor swept into an officious bow. “Finished already? And what did you think of the house, eh? Is it not as lovely as I promised?”
“Quite lovely,” Caroline said, so grateful for his fortuitous arrival she could have wept. “In fact,” she added, reaching a daring conclusion, “I believe I shall take it. Kindly have the proper papers drawn up for me to sign by tomorrow.”
Greed, delight, and dismay all warred on Mr. Penderson’s florid countenance before he offered her another bow. “As you wish, my lady,” he said, sounding doubtful. “But will you not wish your husband to inspect the property first? He may have …” He fluttered his plump hands uselessly. “… objections.”
From this Caroline concluded he meant that Hugh’s permission would be needed, and she burned at the injustice of it. “I will discuss this with him tonight,” she said, feigning a confidence she did not feel. “But I am certain he will be as delighted with the house as am I. Have the papers waiting.”
Mr. Penderson bowed again, promising to have all in readiness by the following day. Caroline and Mairi accompanied him outside, waiting patiently as he secured the door. Caroline had hired a coach and four on her second day in Edinburgh, and it stood in readiness by the curb. The footman leaped down from his perch and was holding the door open in anticipation of their arrival, but when Mairi started forward Caroline hung back, suddenly loath to enter the well-sprung conveyance.
“Caroline?” Mairi paused and cast her a puzzled glance over her shoulder. “Are you nae coming?”
“Actually, I thought I would walk back,” she said, forcing a smile to her lips. “It is such a lovely day, and I could do with a bit of fresh air. You go ahead, and I shall see you for tea.”
Mairi’s incredulous gaze went from Caroline to the gray and sullen skies that were heavy with the threat of a storm. “Are you daft?” she exclaimed, hurrying back to her side. “You canna walk back to Chambers Street! ’Twould be most improper!”
The idea of her fiercely independent and recalcitrant sister-in-law lecturing her on the proprieties brought forth a genuine smile to Caroline’s lips. “Nonsense, dearest,” she said, tugging on her gloves with brisk purpose. “In the days I have been here, I have observed many ladies of our class walking about without so much as a footman to grant them countenance, and no one seems to think a whit of it. I shall be fine, I assure you.”
“Aye, but none of those ladies is a MacColme and married to my dragon of a brother,” Mairi grumbled, clearly disturbed by the notion of Caroline’s ambling about Edinburgh’s teeming streets. “If you really wish to walk I would be happy to—”
“No,” Caroline interrupted, and then softened her abruptness by laying a sisterly hand on the other woman’s arm. “I am sorry, Mairi,” she said, her voice gentle for all its firmness. “I have no wish to be rude, but truly I would prefer it if you returned to your aunt’s home without me. I—I need to be alone.”
Mairi’s frown deepened. “Are you certain of this?” she asked, her green eyes frankly troubled. “I dinna mean to plague you, but Hugh willna be pleased to learn I let you do this thing. In fact, he’s like to come tearing after you in a temper when he hears of it.”
Knowing that was all too likely a possibility and wishing to avoid the scene that was certain to follow, Caroline thought for a moment. “You spoke earlier of needing to call upon a friend,” she said, shooting Mairi a hopeful look. “Perhaps you could stop there first, instead of going directly home?”
Mairi chewed her lip bottom lip indecisively. “Caroline …”
“Please, Mairi.” Caroline tightened her hold on her arm. “You must know I would never ask this of you if it wasn’t important. All I am requesting is a little time alone so that I might gather my thoughts. Hugh needn’t even know I am gone. Please,” she repeated, guessing rightly that the other woman was weakening. “I promise to be home in time for luncheon.”
Mairi regarded her for a long moment. “Is this because of what I said inside?” she asked quietly, her gaze searching Caroline’s face for the truth.
“No, not at all.” Caroline forced herself to meet Mairi’s gaze as she uttered the lie. “I just want to walk and think; that is all.”
Mairi hesitated another moment and then capitulated with a heavy sigh. “All right,” she said, looking far from pleased with the situation. “I’ll stop by Suzanne’s on the way home to Auntie’s. But I’ll only be there an hour or so,” she warned with a scowl. “If you’re not home within half an hour after me, I’ll go to Hugh and tell him everything.”
Caroline did some swift calculations before nodding. Ninety minutes wasn’t as long a time as she would have liked, but it was better than nothing. “By twelve-thirty, then,” she said after consulting the watch pinned to her muff. “With luck, I shall even be there to greet you.”
An imp of mischief danced briefly in Mairi’s bright eyes. “Dinna do that,” she implored with a chuckle. “For if you do, ’Tis I who will find myself explaining my tardiness to Aunt Egidia, and that I would as lief not do.”
Caroline could well sympathize with Mairi’s plight, and renewed her promise to be home within the hour and a half’s time allotted her. She waited on the sidewalk and waved good-bye until the coach disappeared around the corner, leaving her with the solitude she craved.
At first she stood there indecisively, torn between delight at her newfound freedom and a giddy sense of terror at the realization that for the first time in many weeks she was quite, quite alone. In the end her delight conquered her trepidation and she began walking, with no particular destination in mind.
As she was in the new part of the town, she explored that area first, studying with interest the many houses in varying stages of construction. Compared to the Old Town, which she found to be cramped and crowded, the New Town was quite spacious, and the elegant stone houses wit
h their tall windows and black iron archways put her strongly in mind of Bath. She could be at home here, she mused with a sharp pang of longing. Provided, of course, she could convince Hugh to agree to her plan.
She continued wandering, pausing occasionally to peer into a shop window or gaze up at Edinburgh Castle looming high on the massive cliffs that separated the New Town from the Old. Its rugged appearance and stunning sense of isolation reminded her of Hugh, and she felt anew the sharp thrust of pain she had felt at Mairi’s casual revelation about the locket. Why it mattered so much she knew not, she only knew she felt hurt and oddly betrayed by his keeping the miniature from her. If he could do that, she mused, tears stinging her eyes as she continued walking, then it must mean he did not truly view her as his wife.
Time slid away as she continued walking, brooding over the enigma that was her husband, and trying to decide what she was supposed to do about him. She soon left the New Town behind her, puffing with exertion as she climbed the steep steps leading to the area near Canon-gate. She wandered about aimlessly, going up and down the narrow and winding streets without thought or purpose. The skies that had been threatening rain began growing ominously dark, and at the roll of thunder overhead, she glanced up to find herself in an area of Edinburgh unfamiliar to her.
She was in one of the alleys which the Scots called closes, and although it was elegant, she felt a small frisson of unease. She gazed about her, the sudden sense of being watched making her heart race with fear. Two men dressed in the dark clothing of laborers had entered the close, and were between her and the street, their heads bent as they moved toward her. They looked harmless enough, but the sensation of danger grew increasingly strong as they neared her. She was thinking about abandoning her pride and began pounding on one of the doors opening onto the close, when one of the doors did open and a man stepped out, nearly colliding with her.
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