MacDougall nodded. “And so America has come to the rescue. With its wealthy heiresses and their mamas, all wanting a title in the family. The one thing money can’t buy.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Your parents. Are they happily married?”
Rob fidgeted with the remains of his sandwich. MacDougall was all business now, and Rob couldn’t wiggle off the hook. “No, sir. They live apart.”
“And what do ye think of that?”
“I’m sad for them.”
“Indeed. I’ve been married twice myself. I thought my first wife loved me, but she loved my fortune more.”
Rob squirmed in his seat. This was too close to home. What was MacDougall driving at? “I feel awkward, sir, discussing this with you, as you are plainly aware of my family’s financial difficulties and my need to …” He couldn’t quite bring himself to say it.
“Ye need a substantial dowry from your bride when ye do marry.”
Rob swallowed. That was plainspoken. And blunt. “Yes, sir.”
“I appreciate your honesty. I know all of Anna’s suitors have wanted or needed her dowry. But I’m looking for the man who wants my bonnie Anna for herself.”
Rob nearly lost his perch on the rock. MacDougall had given him the perfect entrée into the discussion.
“Then I may as well be bold and come right out with it, sir.” He put his sandwich down and faced MacDougall. “I’m falling in love with your daughter.”
“Have ye quite recovered from your dunking a few nights ago?”
So MacDougall wasn’t going to give him a straight answer. “Yes, sir, quite recovered.”
“Ye impressed me, Mr. Radclyfe. And that’s a verra hard thing to do, mind.”
“Yes, sir,” said Rob, wondering where the conversation was headed.
“Ye’ve a mind inclined to mechanical things then.” It was a statement, not a question.
“I studied mechanical engineering at university, sir. Thought it would come in handy on the estate.”
“So ye’re not a gentleman of leisure?”
“Far from it.”
MacDougall sat back. “I’ll share a wee secret with ye, Mr. Radclyfe. Anna suffered a severe disappointment a year ago, at the hands of an unscrupulous fortune hunter.”
Rob winced at the description. “Sir, I—”
“Let me finish.” MacDougall lowered his chin and examined Rob intently. “I have no quarrel with your need for money to restore your family’s estate. Ye’ve a responsibility to your father, as his son and heir, to marry well. I would expect no less from my own son, if I had one.” He sipped his lemonade. “Anna has decided she will never marry. She doesn’t think it’s possible in her situation to know for certain a man loves her for herself and not her money.” He smiled wryly. “That’s your challenge, laddie. You’re going to have to prove to Anna you do.”
Rob went for a long walk after he and MacDougall arrived back at the mansion. Miss MacDougall, the countess, and DeVille had gone into the city to see a play and would return late. MacDougall had a business appointment in the village. Rob had the rest of the day to mull over MacDougall’s revelation regarding his daughter.
He had to make something happen soon. Another acrimonious letter from the earl had arrived, demanding to know what was happening and what, if any, progress Rob had made in finding a wealthy bride. He couldn’t very well tell his father he’d found the right girl but she had no intention of marrying. The earl had been pleased that Rob hadn’t put up any fuss about finding an American bride. Indeed, Rob had been happy to do it, thinking it would please his father. But the earl, plainly, wasn’t pleased at the moment.
But MacDougall had clearly given him permission to pursue Anna. Tomorrow he would see him and make it official.
Rob awakened early as usual the next morning, dressed quickly, and came downstairs to find the maids still dusting the first-floor rooms. He straightened his lapels, took a deep breath, and knocked on the library door.
“Come in.”
MacDougall didn’t look surprised to see him but chuckled and waved him to a leather chair near his desk.
“Sit down, Mr. Radclyfe. It’s early for ye, isn’t it?”
“No, sir. At home I’m up before dawn, as a regular thing. The early bird gets the worm, and all that.”
“Good lad. And what can I be doin’ for ye this fine morning?”
“I’m here to ask for your official permission to marry Miss MacDougall.”
MacDougall pursed his lips, leaned back in his chair, and laced his fingers together, never taking his gaze off Rob. “Granted.”
Rob exhaled and his shoulders relaxed. “Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t be thankin’ me until she agrees. Ye’ve got a wee bit o’ work ahead of ye, to persuade the lassie you love her.”
MacDougall opened a drawer and extracted a sheaf of papers. “Here’s the marriage contract you’ll be signing, if she’ll have ye. Take all the time ye need. I’ll be back in a bit.”
Rob moved to a chair closer to the small fire burning cheerily in the grate. Most of the legal verbiage of the marriage contract seemed to be straightforward. Anna’s dowry would be deposited into the Bank of England the day after the marriage.
Then the last paragraph caught his eye. “The bride, Anna MacDougall, shall stay in the United States after the wedding, until the time of her father’s death, and after that, as long as she desires. The decision to live in England with her husband shall be made by the bride alone. Any coercion by the groom, or the groom’s family, shall result in the annulment of the contract and the immediate return of the bride’s dowry. The money inherited from her father’s estate shall be wholly hers and under her control.”
Rob gasped. Surely this must be a joke. He threw the papers down as Philip MacDougall returned to the study. The older man gave Rob a sharp glance. “I see ye’ve reached the last page of the contract.”
“I have indeed.” Rob shook his head. “You can’t be serious, Mr. MacDougall. This would make a stuffed bird laugh.”
MacDougall smiled. “But I am. Completely serious.”
“This is impossible. I must return to England with my bride.”
“Her dowry can go. But you and Anna must remain.”
“My father will not agree to this.”
MacDougall shrugged. “Then there is nothing more to discuss.”
Rob rubbed a hand through his hair, trying to think. What had he gotten himself into? He sank into a chair and caught movement outside the library window. Miss MacDougall cavorted outside with a wolfhound puppy, teasing him with a streamer on a stick. She hadn’t yet put her hair up for the day, and the curly mass of waves and ringlets streamed to her waist, turned to fire and gold by the morning sun.
MacDougall followed his gaze. “As you know, she doesn’t particularly care to be married. So if ye canna agree to the stipulations in the contract, it might be best to return to New York.”
Rob snorted, his gaze still fixed on Anna. “And find another heiress to wed.”
MacDougall nodded. “Aye. Unless ye’re up to the challenge.”
Rob pressed his lips together, trying to remain calm. “My father will never agree to this.”
“Then I’m sorry. For I believe ye’re the man for her, laddie.”
Rob turned away from the window then. “Why?”
MacDougall gave him a shrewd look. “She needs a gentle hand tempered by strength. One that won’t crush her spirit. And kindness.”
Rob sighed. “I don’t want anyone else.”
“I know.” MacDougall smiled. “An open book, ye are. But I’m glad of it.”
Then his smile disappeared, and he sank onto the sofa, gasping and clutching his chest.
Rob rushed to his side. “What can I do?”
MacDougall fumbled inside his frock coat. “Pills … in here,” he gasped as he clutched his chest and groaned. Rob quickly found the small brown bottle labeled “Nitroglycerin.” He uncorked th
e bottle and shook out a tiny yellow tablet. “Here, sir.”
MacDougall groaned again. “Un–under … tongue,” he gasped. Quickly Rob took hold of his chin and wormed the pill under MacDougall’s tongue. Then he ran to the bellpull and jerked it hard. Returning to MacDougall, Rob loosened the man’s cravat and unbuttoned the top of his shirt, praying desperately under his breath. MacDougall had broken out in a clammy sweat, and his lips were blue. Rob grabbed the pill bottle and crammed another tablet under MacDougall’s tongue.
Mortimer appeared then and blanched when he saw MacDougall’s state.
“Send for the village physician immediately,” said Rob.
But MacDougall gripped his arm. “No … wait.” He swallowed. “It’s easing.” His body uncurled and his breathing normalized. His face lost its ghastly pallor. Rob whipped out his handkerchief and mopped MacDougall’s forehead.
Mortimer addressed Rob. “What would you have me do, sir?”
MacDougall gave an infinitesimal shake of his head at Rob.
Rob shook his head. “Nothing, Mortimer. Not a word to the other servants. Close the doors.”
“Yes, sir.”
The butler withdrew. MacDougall smiled faintly. “Ye read my mind.”
“No need to upset Miss MacDougall?”
MacDougall nodded.
“Does she know?”
“I’ve tried to prepare her. But no child wants to consider the prospect of their parent’s death. They think it’s morbid to speak of it, ye ken. But sometimes there’s things that need to be said.”
MacDougall put his feet up on the couch and stretched out, crossing his arms on his chest and closing his eyes. “She took it verra hard when her mother died suddenly. My death will cause her great pain.” He opened one eye and stared hard at Rob. “That’s why she’s going to be needin’ ye, lad.”
Chapter 7
Anna had a few precious hours to herself, as Mr. Radclyfe, the countess, and the baron had taken the horses out and wouldn’t be back until late afternoon. She didn’t know what to make of Mr. Radclyfe anymore. When he had first arrived, she’d expected an onslaught of wheedling speech as he pressed his suit and strove to assure her he possessed the fine qualities that made him a worthy match for her and her millions. But so far he hadn’t fit any of her expectations. Certainly not after shucking his evening clothes and diving into cold dark water to fix the waterwheel. Baron DeVille would have done no such thing. She contrasted the image of the dapper and vain blond baron with the man who returned to the house soaking wet. Underneath his frock coat, a glimpse of his broad chest and shoulders had sent a shiver through her.
And then his declaration in the garden. She had tried hard not to think about it, about his need to love the woman he married. But she hadn’t been successful, and her heart quivered every time she remembered Mr. Radclyfe’s handsome, intent face.
She needed something to distract her, so she popped into the library and found her father sorting through papers on his desk.
“Papa, I’ve asked Mortimer to serve tea in the garden. I thought you might enjoy that.”
“Aye, lassie, I would.”
They walked arm in arm to the tea table under the old blooming crabapple. When her father had finished his tea, he set his cup down. “Now then, I’ve somethin’ to say.”
“Yes, Papa?”
“I want to see you married proper before I die.”
Anna took a deep breath and held her tongue.
“I need to know you’re settled, lassie.”
She nodded.
“And I’ve chosen the man for ye.”
Oh no. “Papa—”
He held his hands up. “Let me finish, Anna.” He smiled, and she saw wrinkles engraved on his dear face she’d never noticed before. “I’ve thought and prayed hard on it. Ye must trust me now.”
Anna pressed her lips together as her heart jumped in her chest.
“Robert Radclyfe is intelligent, steady, and loves God. I believe you would come to care for him. As he cares for you.”
“How can you know he cares for me? You’ve known him for ten days.”
Her father cocked his head to one side. “I’m a verra good judge of character, lassie. Don’t forget—I’ve dealt with all sorts of men in my business dealings. And Robert Radclyfe is genuine.”
Anna paced in front of her father, her agitated skirts sending a flurry of rose petals into the air. Two weeks ago she would have absolutely refused, but now she didn’t know what she felt. “You know he only wants my dowry. And my inheritance.” But even as she said this, she secretly hoped it wasn’t true.
“And he shall have it. But he also wants you, Anna. I am verra sure.”
She sank to her knees in front of her father. “I want to please you, Papa. I do. But—” She shook her head as the face of Stuart Maxwell Gordon rose up. Could she take the risk again?
“He’ll be a good match for your headstrong ways, lassie. The anchor to your spirit. And there’s one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“I have a stipulation. He’s not to take you back to England. The dowry can go, but you must remain here. And he with you, if he truly cares for you. Until such a time in the future, after I’m gone, and then only if you wish to go.”
Then she would never find herself in a position like Nora. Would that be enough?
“Come here, lassie.” She took his hand and sat down, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. “Ye’ll be a wealthy woman in your own right. It will be your decision to follow him to England. Your choice.”
“He won’t agree, Papa. Every American heiress who’s married an English lord has gone to live in England. Jennie Jerome, Mary Leiter, Consuelo Vanderbilt.”
“Aye.” He smiled. “It will have to be for love.”
Robert Radclyfe would never agree to such an outlandish stipulation. Or would he?
She sniffed. “Then we will see, won’t we, Papa?”
“Och, lassie,” he said with a smile, “that we will.”
Now Anna had a hard time resisting Rob’s infectious smile, despite Nora’s dark looks behind his back. She’d awakened the last few mornings with a sense of expectation. The four were picnicking near the north cliff overlook, with Winnie sitting chaperone for Anna a short distance away. While Nora and the baron had a lively conversation regarding the merits of singing birds, Anna leaned toward Mr. Radclyfe.
“Did you enjoy your fishing trip with my father?”
“We had a grand time,” he said.
“Where did he take you?”
“About an hour from here, deep in the forest.”
Anna sat up straighter. “Indeed. Can you describe it to me?”
“To use your father’s own words: ‘It’s a verra bonnie place.’ A woodland pool, ringed by tottering old oaks and carpeted with moss.”
“The fairy glen. Hmmm.”
He tipped his head to one side and studied her. “Why? Does it hold some special significance?”
She smiled faintly. “It was our own private place no one else knew of,” she said, “when I was growing up. I used to hunt for fairies under the acorn caps, and once I thought I saw one sitting on a cushion of moss. My father had a dragonfly fairy pendant made for me, to remind me of our fairy glen.”
Mr. Radclyfe nodded. “You wore it the night of the Met Ball. I understand why you thought you could find fairies there. It’s a precious, magical place. Enchanted.”
“Funny you should feel the same way.”
“Yes.” He started to say something but then stopped.
“Go on,” said Anna.
He smiled shyly. “I thought perhaps we could visit it together sometime. With your chaperone, of course,” he added hastily.
“Perhaps.”
He drew a brown paper parcel from his pocket. “I went into the village yesterday to cable my father. I browsed the bookstore and found this for you.”
She pulled the brown paper off the parcel and laughed.” The Mons
ter and Other Stories, by Stephen Crane,” she read aloud.
“It’s a different monster than the one in Frankenstein,” he said. “But I thought you might enjoy it.”
“Thank you,” she said, touched. “You’re rather a different suitor yourself.” She smiled at him. “No candy, no flowers—just books about monsters.”
“Hmm.” He cocked his head. “You’re considering me a suitor now? That’s a step in the right direction then.”
She blushed at the eager look in his eyes, speechless for the moment, when fortunately Mortimer approached, bearing a silver salver.
He stopped before Mr. Radclyfe. “A telegram for you, sir.”
Mr. Radclyfe stood and walked a few steps away to rip it open. His dark brows slanted together and his lips pressed in a grim line as he crushed the paper in his fist. Abruptly he stalked toward the cliff path.
“Radclyfe,” called DeVille, “where are you going? Is it bad news?”
Mr. Radclyfe shook his head and hastened away.
DeVille shrugged and cut himself a cluster of purple grapes with a pair of tiny scissors. “These are delicious.”
“Shouldn’t you go after him?” Anna asked.
The baron popped a grape into his mouth. “I think he wants to be alone.”
Anna stood, and Nora put a restraining hand on her arm. “Don’t, Anna. It’s none of your business, is it?”
Nora was correct. But as Mr. Radclyfe read the telegram, she had noted the sure evidence of pain in his face before anger had overtaken him, and though she could barely admit it, she did care.
Anna shook off Nora’s hand and hurried after Mr. Radclyfe. His tall figure had already disappeared down the slender gravel path to the outlook, the northernmost part of the estate with a brilliant view of the Catskills and the river below. Before the path widened into the outlook, Anna stopped and motioned Winnie to stay.
He sat on the bench, his forearms resting on his thighs, staring out at the vista, and he didn’t turn at her step on the stony gravel. She came around the bench, sat down a few feet from him, and remained quiet. Hawks circled lazily in the air currents high above the river, dotted with ships and sailboats.
The Convenient Bride Collection: 9 Romances Grow from Marriage Partnerships Formed Out of Necessity Page 57