by Lauren Smith
“I understand, my lord. I was informed you’d lost your wife a year ago, my condolences. It must be hard for any parent to raise a child alone.”
Forres halted and turned to face her, his eyes slightly wide in surprise. “Yes…yes, it is hard.” He recovered himself. “Blair is a wee bit wild, as I was when I was a bairn.”
Rowena couldn’t resist smiling. “You were once a wee child?” Her own childhood had been full of adventures, as much as a well-bred English young lady could have had in the country, but she imagined Forres had a much more colorful life.
“Oh, aye…” His Scottish accent thickened to a richer brogue as he spoke. “I was always off in the woods or on a horse. My nurse couldn’t keep me in a clean set of trousers to save my life.” His solemn gray eyes held a hint of warmth as he led her through the maze of gardens.
“And little Blair is like you.” Rowena laughed in delight. The idea of the darling child running among the Scottish heather, wild and free, was a wonderful thought.
Forres nodded. “Yes, but she could use a wee bit of taming.”
“Taming?” Rowena asked, tempted to smile. “All children need to be able to run free sometimes. I was often getting into scrapes when I was younger.”
Forres gazed at her. “Now, that I cannot imagine! A proper young lady like you?” His expression was serious but there was a hint of gentle mocking in his tone. He was teasing her and she couldn’t help but grin at him, temporarily forgetting how nervous he made her.
“Oh yes, I was a bit of a tree climber and I was always bringing home tadpoles, baby birds, and all other manner of fauna. I once nursed a baby deer back to health after its mother was killed one spring.” She’d always loved taking care of wounded creatures great or small, and her parents had been thankfully indulgent of her desire to play the healer.
He covered her hand with his where it rested on his arm. “I was much the same. Always bringing home creatures. I rescued a pine marten one winter, raising the kit in my bedchamber beneath my parents’ noses. It was a fine beast, a smart creature. He lived for nine years as a devoted pet, much to my mother’s dismay.”
“It must have been wonderful to grow up in a castle in Scotland as a child.” Rowena sighed dreamily, picturing the earl as a boy scampering about the woods.
“It was, but southern England here is just as beautiful. You live on the neighboring estate, don’t you?”
“Yes, Pepperwirth Vale. It is a lovely house and all my memories there are happy ones.” She was beginning to see just how fortunate she had been to grow up so loved and cherished and free of tragedy.
Before they could speak further, they’d reached the doors to the veranda at the back of Hampton House, and Rowena’s mother was rushing toward her. Her mother, usually one to be immaculately dressed, was now wearing a wrinkled gown, her hair a bit frazzled. She must have been up all night worrying about Milly’s situation.
“Rowena! Dear, you must come at once, your sister…” Her mother halted at the sight of Lord Forres standing beside Rowena, their arms still linked.
“Lord Forres.” Lady Pepperwirth recovered, her strained features smoothing into a beautiful mask of pleasantry.
“Good morning, Lady Pepperwirth.” Forres bowed.
“Er…yes, good morning, my lord. I’m so sorry for disrupting your walk with my daughter.” Her gaze darted between them.
Forres seemed to sense her unease, and ever the gentleman, he took control of the situation.
“Shall I go speak with the staff regarding luncheon?”
“Oh yes, thank you, Lord Forres,” Lady Pepperwirth exclaimed in relief.
Forres turned his focus to Rowena and heat flooded her cheeks when he took the hand that had been resting upon his arm and pressed a lingering kiss on her bare skin. When he released her hand, Rowena clutched it to her chest as she watched the handsome Scotsman stride away into the house.
“Well, that’s certainly encouraging, isn’t it?” Her mother glanced back at where Forres had gone.
With a little exasperated sigh, Rowena stared at her mother.
“He is very polite, Mama, but I don’t think—”
“Oh hush, every man with good sense would be interested in you, dear. From the moment you were born, I knew you would grow up to be a beauty, just like your sister, but thank heavens you’ve a sweeter temperament.”
“Mama!” Rowena protested. “You know Milly is as sweet as me. She simply doesn’t suffer fools.” Rowena adored her older sister but sometimes Milly acted a bit prickly, especially to young men, because she feared marriage and the loss of her sense of self. It was a complicated notion, but Rowena understood that Milly feared a husband would repress her freedom.
Lady Pepperwirth puffed out her chest. “Yes, well, your sister has certainly gotten herself involved in a bit of trouble with her attitude. Your father and I have a fine mess to deal with getting a wedding arranged quickly with as little scandal as possible.”
Guilt clawed at Rowena’s insides and she pressed a hand to her stomach. Here she had been enjoying a walk with Lord Forres while her sister was no doubt suffering preparations for a wedding to a man she didn’t know and didn’t love.
It was my fault she was compromised. That part made Rowena feel even worse. The previous evening Milly had come to her and explained that she was worried that Owen Hadley, the handsome fortune hunter, had set his sights on Rowena. Unfortunately, Milly had been right about Owen and had been compromised when he’d snuck into her room by accident. It was their wedding her parents now had to plan.
“Does she really have to marry him?” The thought of her beloved sister trapped into a marriage because she’d been protecting Rowena…It made Rowena’s stomach roll over.
“Of course she does,” her mother said with a slight frown. “But don’t worry about her, Rowena; she can use a bit of marriage to improve her mood. Mr. Hadley might be a suitable match after all. Now come, dear, tell me how you and Lord Forres met this morning.”
Rowena rolled her eyes. Her mother was relentless when it came to marrying off her children. Unfortunately for her, Rowena wanted a love match.
“I don’t think he is interested in me, Mama. He was being polite; that is all.”
“Humph,” her mother huffed. “Well, his land holdings in Forres are immense, his temperament is good, and he’s a fine-looking man. We’d best snap him up before he takes his wife hunting to London.”
Snap him up? That was the last thing she needed. A husband. Of course she wanted one, but she’d only just come out. A girl had every right to embrace the freedom of the city in the late fall, the dancing, the balls, the gowns, the suitors…Rowena did want to experience it at least once before she made a decision.
“Mama, I want to enjoy the Season. Must we discuss marriage now?” She knew she sounded a little childish, but she didn’t want to rush such a monumental decision.
“Well, I suppose we have plenty of time to discuss Lord Forres later.” Her mother’s lips pursed. “I’ve come to tell you that your father and I must take Milly straight home to settle the wedding plans. You are to remain here at Hampton for the duration of the party. The dowager countess will be a diligent chaperone for you.”
Her parents were leaving? Rowena clutched her mother’s arm. “But you can’t go, Mama. I need you here—”
“Nonsense. It’s time you were off my leading strings and on your own for a bit. We won’t be far.” Lady Pepperwirth patted her hand gently.
Following her inside the grand Hampton House, Rowena paused in the entry. The muted gold light coming in through the vast windows illuminated the grand staircase. Only last night she’d descended those steps as a debutante in a white gown, the eyes of every man at the party fixed on her. She didn’t revel in the attention, but it was pleasant to be noticed for once.
But the night was over, today was a new day, and she wondered what she was supposed to do without her mother or her sister here to guide her. Dinner was easy enoug
h, discussions, courses of the meal, she’d learned it all, but…what was she to do during the day on her own?
“Oh, Milly, I wish I were you,” Rowena murmured. “You’d know exactly what to do.”
Chapter 2
Quinn MacCauley, the seventh earl of Forres, stared out of the wide French windows facing the veranda of Hampton House. The midmorning tea had just been laid out and a light luncheon was being prepared. Yet Quinn could not focus on these details. His mind, as it was wont to do this last year, drifted.
The ring finger on his left hand was bare, and he felt naked without the silver band he’d worn until a month ago.
Sweet Maura…
Had it truly been a year since his wife had died giving birth to the baby boy that had perished with her? He didn’t feel ready to move on—he doubted he ever would—but Blair, his darling, wee bairn, needed a mother. She was growing up so fast, and before he knew it she’d be presented at court and suitors would be knocking at his door. As a single father, he feared he’d closet Blair away in a tower and not let her live a full life. It would happen all too soon, and knowing that made him hurt deep inside with a heavy ache of loneliness.
It was all of this that had him traipsing through England on a wife hunt. Any Scottish lass would have been fine, but he feared they would remind him of Maura. So he and Mrs. Finch had taken Blair and left Forres to come to England to find a woman.
He didn’t expect to fall in love again, not after how he’d loved Maura. She was his childhood sweetheart, his dearest friend, his lover. The woman he’d chased through the wild heather and rode out on the grounds with every morning. The gaping hole in his heart was still raw. Absently, he rubbed his bare ring finger again as he watched Leo Graham, the Earl of Hampton, and his fiancée, Ivy Leighton, walk into the dining room. Their heads were bent toward one another as they shared whispers and secret smiles. The ache in his chest grew.
Ivy and Leo paused when they noticed him standing beside the windows.
“Forres! How the devil are you?” Leo beamed and strode over to Quinn, Ivy at his side.
“Good, Hampton. And you?” They’d only had a brief moment at dinner the previous evening to exchange greetings.
“Good.” Leo smiled. “I’m delighted Mother thought to invite you down to the house for a few weeks before you travel to London.”
Quinn nodded. “Aye, ’twas good of her to think of me.” Leo’s mother, the dowager countess, was a distant cousin of his. The convoluted bloodlines of the English and the Scots left him well connected to many of London’s titled elite, including the Grahams.
“Well, seems like it will be just us for lunch. Mother isn’t feeling too well, and the Pepperwirths are going home early. Hadley’s leaving too; apparently we’re to congratulate him on a wedding he needs to plan.” Leo’s lips twitched and Quinn sensed there was more to this situation than was being revealed, but he knew better than to pry.
“Oh, but, Leo, don’t forget, Rowena is staying.” Ivy nudged Leo in the ribs, her eyes darting between him and Quinn suggestively.
Leo’s eyes widened as if finally reading his fiancée’s thoughts, and then he coughed. “Er…yes, Rowena. You’ve met Miss Rowena, haven’t you, Forres?”
Quinn nodded, amused that the couple in front of him seemed to be planning some attempt at matchmaking. Despite his heartache, he was finding the general hunt for a wife to be humorous. It was either laugh at his situation or cry, and he was not going to cry. He had shed his tears and was now determined to do what he needed to do for Blair.
As a Scot, he was a fair outsider to the English aristocracy’s eccentricities with regard to courtship and marriage. Last night during dinner he’d watched the women in the room eye him appraisingly, and rather than be offended, he was surprised at how much it entertained him. The language of soft smiles and suggestive questions they posed to him, as though assessing his prospects for themselves or their daughters, had been amusing. And he had been just as interested in them for the same reason, attempting to see if any might prove a good match. But none at dinner had truly attracted him in the end. None except Rowena.
He couldn’t help but rub his bare finger again as he thought of Rowena rescuing Blair from falling into the fountain. She’d saved his child and he wasn’t going to forget that any time soon.
“Why don’t you fetch her for luncheon, Lord Forres,” Ivy suggested to him.
“I’d be happy to.” Quinn nodded at them both. They were an attractive couple, Leo with his fair features and Ivy with her dark hair and olive skin. Like the sun and moon.
“Pardon me.” Quinn left the dining room and walked down the corridor until he reached the main hall, where he froze, arrested by the sight of a woman alone by the stairs.
Rowena Pepperwirth stood directly in the path of a wide beam of sunlight coming through the high windows. Her pale gold hair glinted and shimmered like silk in the light. Her elaborate coiffure, with its coiled lengths done up in an artfully messy style, was so unlike the way Maura had worn her reddish brown hair. Quinn shook his head, banishing the comparison. They were different women and he should not compare her to his wife. He did not want a woman to replace Maura; he wanted someone new, someone who was her own woman.
“Oh, Milly.” The young woman sighed. “I wish you were here; you’d know exactly what to do.” Her voice was soft, a little husky, more womanly than girlish. She was young, a new debutante, but Rowena was a lovely woman coming into her own.
A little smiled curved Quinn’s mouth up. She was more than lovely; she was exquisite. Her body was small in stature but with healthy curves. Rowena, at only eighteen, was perhaps naïve of the world, but she had been good with Blair. Natural mothering instincts. She’d make any man a fine wife…Quinn suddenly tensed as that thought occurred to him. That was not something he could just ignore, being as he was on the hunt for exactly that.
Leaning his shoulder against the wall, he studied her more closely. The white lace day gown she wore was dotted with smudges of dirt near her knees…where she’d leaned over the stone fountain to catch his daughter. A pink blush heightened the color in her cheeks as she wrung her hands, still talking to herself under her breath.
A few wisps of her hair came loose from the coiffure and dangled down her neck. An unexpected heated interest flooded his body as he pictured himself standing directly behind her, hands on her hips as he bent to nibble and kiss that neck. She would smell sweet, like rosewater, and her laugh as he kissed her would be breathless and husky. She would turn and curl her arms around his neck…Quinn blinked, shocked that he’d been lost in such thoughts. He hadn’t felt attraction to any woman since Maura.
A moment later guilt followed and he ducked his head, drew a steadying breath, and focused on Rowena again. His primary hunt for a wife so far had been to study women with regard to their ability to be good mothers, but seeing Rowena now…it reminded him that any wife he took would also be his lover, not merely a mother to his children. It was a truth he could not ignore. He had been celibate since Maura died, but if he married again, especially if he took a woman like Rowena to wife, he would need to—would want to—consummate the marriage. Again that sense of guilt crawled beneath his skin.
Maura is gone, he reminded himself. Many widowers moved on to new wives, but Quinn was finding it hard to imagine loving any other woman ever again.
I don’t have to love her, but I can have an affection for her, enjoy her in my bed, can’t I?
He regained his control and cleared his throat. Rowena jumped and whirled to face him.
“Lord Forres!” she gasped. “You startled me!”
He tried to calm her with a wave of his hand. The panic in her cornflower-blue eyes was something he regretted causing. He left the doorway to come over to her.
“I’m sorry, Miss Rowena. I came to fetch you for luncheon if you’re ready.” He crooked his arm, and, as he had in the garden earlier, after a brief hesitation, she placed her hand through it. It was a
simple touch, nothing at all romantic in it—it wasn’t as though he were pinning her against the wall and kissing her—yet he felt a forbidden thrill each time his and Rowena’s bodies came into contact, even as innocently as this.
A strange stirring filled his chest. It was a curious sensation, one he had not felt since…since Blair had been born. Only then did Quinn recognize what it was: a nervous excitement. How odd that this young woman he barely knew could make him feel as such. It had been months since he’d felt much of anything. Only Blair brought him any joy.
“Do we…er…” Rowena nibbled her plump bottom lip as though embarrassed to speak. He tried not to focus on her lips or how he had the sudden urge to nip them.
“What I meant to say is, do we have plans this afternoon?” Rowena ducked her head as she added, “This is my first house party and with my parents gone, I’m a little…”
“Out of your depth?” Quinn smiled. “I know exactly how you feel. A Scotsman doesn’t always feel he is on steady ground once he crosses the border into England.” He kept his tone light, teasing, and it earned a laugh from Rowena. The sound was musical, full of joy and relief. This fair English rose was an open creature, emotions plain upon her delicate features, and her eyes, such blue eyes that made a man thirsty to gaze upon, hid nothing of what was in her mind and heart.
“Thank heavens for that, my lord. I must admit, I’m nervous I will make a ninny of myself whilst my parents are gone.” Her gentle, concerned confession tugged at his heart. The organ, so hardened into stone over the last year, jolted with an unexpected pulse.
“Do not worry, Miss Rowena, we shall survive the party together. At least today it shall be just us with Hampton and his bride-to-be. Four is not too intimidating a size for an afternoon.” He almost covered her hand with his but caught himself. I must behave. I cannot do more than offer my arm to her.