“You see it was Enna who found Mary, lost and frightened, wandering the streets of Lynn searching for her aunt’s home. He brought her to safety and then having become enamored—she was a striking girl, continued to see her. They courted and quickly married. Your father was born a few months later. From what I could garner from Mary’s letters Enna loved the child, your father, as if he were his own. As time passed they could see no reason to tell Michael the truth. He was happy, as were they.
“Over the years Mary and I kept in touch through letters.” She sighed. “When the letters stopped a few years after your birth, I knew. Knew that I’d lost my dear friend.”
“So no one in Lynn knew?”
“Only the aunt. Immediately after marrying, they moved to new lodging at the opposite end of the city. Their new neighbors just assumed Enna was the father.”
“And your brother?”
“I told him about Mary’s marriage and the birth of the child. The news broke what little remained for his heart. He truly did love Mary and was never the same after she’d been taken away. He died four years later riding in a steeple chase. He was likely drunk. He usually was by then. We were told his horse stumbled jumping a hedge row, he fell and broke his neck.”
“I’m so sorry.” To die at twenty, never having married, never having seen his child. How heartbreaking. “So that’s why you recorded our names in your bible.”
She wiped the tears from her eyes. “Yes. You’re my grandniece. My brother’s granddaughter.”
Thinking about her title-obsessed father, wondering if he did in fact know some of this, she asked, “Would father have had a title had he been born here on the right side of the blanket?”
The Duchess nodded. “Had my brother and your grandmother been allowed to marry, your father would have become Baron of Dunfirth. You, being the only child of a hereditary baron, would have been known as Lady Conor. Following his death and if you hadn’t acquired a higher title through marriage, you would have become Baroness of Dunfirth, addressed as Madam, Baroness or Lady Dunfirth, whichever you preferred.”
There was no getting away from it.
Having taken one body blow after another, she hesitated to ask the question that had brought her into the parlor in the first place, but she had to know. “Why did you not tell me about Colin?”
Looking confused, the Duchess asked, “Tell you what, dear?”
“Why didn’t you tell me that Colin MacNab was an impoverished earl in need of a rich heiress, of which I happen to be?”
The Duchess blinked like a startled owl. “I’m sure I would have, dear, but you never asked.”
Grinding her teeth, Liv said, “I’m asking now.”
~*~
By sheer good fortune, Collin had overheard two women talking after the games and learned that Lady Frances Balfour, daughter of the Duke of Argyll and an active supporter of the liberal party and suffragist movement, was speaking in just two days’ time in Haddington. He had no desire to sit through a lecture but had little doubt that the lovely Olivia Conor would and he looked forward to spending the entire day with her.
In the event that she was occupied when he arrived, he’d penned a quick letter offering to escort her to the lecture.
He’d not seen Olivia in two days and that was simply two days too many. He’d sent a card last night but he’d not received an acknowledgement, so he had no idea if she’d even seen it. What if a maid had misplaced it? Worse, he’d barely slept last night for fear he’d done something to offend her.
He’d learned the night of the bonfire that Olivia was an only child as was he. Wondering if she might want a large family as he did, Colin knocked on Blythe Hall’s front door.
The door opened and he smiled at the maid. “Good evening.”
“Good evening, m’lord. May I take your coat? The guests are gathering in the music room.”
Ack! He’d forgotten that tonight was the Duchess’s musical, doubtless featuring many of her young guests. Wondering how he’d now escape unscathed, he looked about and spied one of Olivia’s companions coming down the curving marble staircase. “Miss Crawford, might I have a word?”
She broke into a broad smile and rush to meet him. “What a delight.”
He bent over her hand. “The pleasure is all mine.”
She leaned forward and whispered, “Are you here to see Olivia?”
He grinned. “Am I that obvious?”
She nodded. “She’s with the Duchess right now.”
“Would you mind giving her a note for me?”
“I don’t mind, but why not just go upstairs and put it in her room yourself? I’m sure she won’t mind. Fourth floor, first door on your right.”
“Bless you.”
“Hmmm.” She winked and was gone.
He took the stairs two at a time.
When no one answered his knock, he opened the door to Oliva’s bedroom and grinned catching a whiff of lilies. Her scent. He looked about. He could place the letter on her bed, but the maid might misplace it when she turned down the bed linen. The dressing table then. It was cluttered with a collection of brushes, ribbons, pins, pots and bottles but the first thing she’d see as she walked into the room.
Deciding if he had to use all the paraphernalia women used, he’d never get out of the keep of a morn’, he moved the perfume bottle and brushes to the side to clear a center space for his letter.
He took his missive from his pocket, ready to put it on the table when a crinkled letter written in a bold masculine slant caught his eye. Seeing it was address to Dearest Olivia, having been badly burned in the past, he threw caution to the wind and picked up the letter.
A minute later, seething, he hissed, “That bitch!”
He shredded his own letter, dropping it on top of her father’s, reached into his sporran, pulled out the mistletoe he’d saved from two nights previous, dropped the wee boughs onto her father’s letter and slammed his fist down on the lot.
A few furious heartbeats later he was again mounted and heading home, hoping never to see Olivia Conor again.
TARTAN BOWS AND MISTLETOE
CHAPTER TEN
In no mood to socialize or sit through a musical, Liv went from the Duchess’s parlor straight to her own room. She had little doubt the Duchess would have an excuse for her absence should anyone ask.
Inside her dimly lit room, she flopped onto the bed.
The terrors her poor Nana must have endured!
She couldn’t begin to imagine being so young, alone and pregnant then put on a ship bound for a country that only fifty years earlier had started a bloody revolution to separate itself from the country of her birth. Then only a few years following that had again gone to war with her country. And all with the hopes of finding and being accepted by an aunt she’d never met.
What was wrong with these people that a title meant so much?
Thank heaven the fates had been kind and Grampa Enna had been the one to find her.
Liv had been six when her Nana had passed, but recalled her as a kind woman with china blue eyes, gentle hands and a soft lap who sang whenever she held Liv in her rocking chair. Picturing her grandparents smiling at each other, holding hands, she never would have suspected their marriage started out as one of convenience. They’d love each other. Of that she had no doubt.
And speaking of love...
Then there was Colin, the dirt poor earl in desperate need of a rich wife and who had lied repeatedly to her. Well, he’d not exactly lied outright, but he’d definitely lied by omission.
As had she.
Yes, she’d gone to extremes to be sure he didn’t learn who she truly was, but who could fault her? She truly liked him from the onset and didn’t want him to think less of her. She wanted no part in the ton’s marriage mart. And according to the Duchess, he’d only done the same. Only he had more reason. He’d been humiliated by an heiress just like her.
“Augh!”
She hadn’t come to Scotl
and with the intention of finding a husband. She hadn’t come in hopes of finding long lost family. She’d come simply to appease her father and meet the ladies of the Edinburgh National Society for Woman’s Suffrage. Period.
Yet here she was with a new family and a man with whom she was certain she’d fallen in love and all while he’d yet to learn the truth about her. And all in a matter of days.
She had to find a way to tell him her true situation...without earning his ire.
Could life get any more complicated?
Deciding she was too tired and upset to think clearly, she rose and walked to the dressing table. “What on earth...?”
The table top was a mess, littered with crushed leaves, berries and torn paper. She picked up the leaves. Mistletoe. She picked up one of the torn pieces of paper, unfolded it and immediately recognized the handwriting as Colin’s. Then she saw her father’s letter beneath the mess.
“Oh no! No, no, no...”
Colin had been in her room, had read her father’s letter and immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion.
Heart thudding against her ribs, cursing herself for being so stupid as to leave her father’s letter out where anyone could find it, she swept the table top clean of all but the pieces of Colin’s letter.
How could she have been so bloody, bloody stupid to leave her father’s letter out?
Despite her shaking hands it took only a few minutes to piece the letter together and read,
Dear Miss Conor,
You were again very much missed at today’s village festivities. I do hope you can find the time to attend tomorrow. I thought you might like to know that Lady Frances Balfour, a famous worker for the National Union of Women’s Suffrage Societies, will be speaking in Haddington this coming Wednesday. If you wish to attend this meeting, which is only an hour’s ride away, I would be delighted to escort you.
Most sincerely,
Colin
Tears welled in her eyes. “Colin, you dear sweet man.”
There wasn’t another man in her world who would have understood her need to meet with the lady, much less offer to take her. Yet he had offered and after knowing her for so short a period of time.
And then he’d found her father’s letter.
Colin had to be furious. Had to think the very worst of her.
She had to speak with him, had to explain.
Tears welling, heart in her throat, she crammed her father’s letter into her pocket. She’d burn the damn thing the moment she got back. She grabbed a coat from her armoire and raced from her room and down the stairs to the music room.
Seeing at least a dozen people milling before the grand piano, Liv hesitated in the doorway. Perhaps she should forgo asking permission to borrow a carriage and just take a horse. She could somehow find her way to Clachankirk keep. Yes. That’s what she’d do.
Before she could reach the lower hall, the Duchess called her name.
Looking up the staircase, Liv said, “Yes, Your Grace?”
Making her way down the stairs one slow step at a time, the Duchess asked, “Whatever is wrong, dear? You look like you’ve seen ghost.”
Liv, realizing she was crying, dashed the tears from her cheeks. “It’s Colin. He came to my room and found my father’s letter on my dressing table. He must hate me.”
“What letter?”
Liv pulled the rumpled letter from her pocket and handed it to the Duchess, who now stood beside her.
After reading it, the Duchess said, “Oh dear, oh dear.”
“I have to go to him. I have to explain that gaining a title was never my intent. That it’s all Papa’s idea. I have...I have to...”
God, the pain in her chest was taking her breath away.
The Duchess took Liv into her arms. “Olivia, please listen to me. You can’t go to him now. He’s doubtless in a rage. Surely you understand why.”
“Yes, I do and that’s precisely why I must go to him now.”
“No. Now listen. He’s hurting, thinking history has repeated itself. Give him time to come to grips with it. Give him time to nurse his pain then shift from pain to anger. Anger you can defuse. More importantly, he’ll be thinking more clearly come morning...and so will you.”
“But—”
“Olivia, I’ve known and cared for this young man for years. Trust me in this.” She held Liv out at arms’ length. “Go up to your room and cry your heart out if you must, but also think. Take this time to decide what you truly want, to form a plan of attack and to think very carefully about the exact words you need to say to make your goal a reality. At first light tomorrow a coach will be waiting to take you to Clachankirk.”
Dare she trust that the Duchess knew best?
Deciding she had no choice, Liv sniffled then nodded. “All right if you promise the coach will be ready at first light.”
“I promise.”
~*~
That flaming bitch!
How could he have been so stupid to fall for the same ploy a second time?
Colin threw his pewter mug at the fireplace. When it only clanged against the ancient stones then rolled around the floor without providing the necessary satisfaction one got from smashing glass he reached for the whisky decanter.
Gnarled fingers closed over his. “I’ll take that, m’lord.”
“Give it back, MacGill.” He wasn’t through drinking yet.
“Nay, m’lord. Milly has enough to do of a morning without her having to pick up broken glass. Now let’s get ye of to bed.”
Bed? He was tired. Tired of thinking, tired of hurting. “Alright, but I shan’t dream of her. Nay, never again.”
Collin staggered to his feet and allowed MacGill to wrap a strong arm about him. “She’s one of them, ye ken? A viper.”
“Aye, and so ye’ve said a hundred times.”
“I’m cursed, MacGill.” Colin stumbled backward then painstakingly righted himself. “Cursed I tell ye. First, I get a gambling lu...lush for a father then I stupidly fall in love with a viper. And then I do it again. Again, MacGill! Do ye ken what that means?”
“That ye haven’t the sense God gave a goose.”
The world tilted to his right as he staggered toward the stairwell. “Aye, goose. Did I tell ye she’s a viper, MacGill? A flaming bitch? That she’s only after my damn title?”
“Aye, m’lord, but you did well. Ye discovered the truth in time, before she could do ye any real harm.”
Colin sighed. “But she did, MacGill. My insides hurt. Hurt as never before.” He grabbed his butler by the lapel and pressed his nose to the old man’s ear. “Lilies, that’s what this viper smells like.” He sighed as MacGill pushed his face away and guided him up the stairs. “We were going to have bairns, MacGill. Many, many bairns.”
“I’m sure ye will someday, m’lord.”
“Nay. No more.”
He suddenly toppled then looked about. Ah, he was in his bedchamber, on his bed. Good. He’d made it. Now to sleep the dreamless sleep of the dead.
~*~
Four hours had passed since Melinda had watched her broken-hearted grandniece flee to her room.
Why was young love always so damn difficult?
Melinda sighed recalling her first year with Robert. All their misunderstandings, her stupidity in assuming he’d automatically know what was on her mind, her trying to understand Robert’s constantly shifting relationships with brothers, and all while dealing with his mother’s reluctance to turn over the reins. Ugh!
No, she definitely didn’t envy Olivia her upcoming year.
Olivia’s not having a mother to advise her would only complicate matters.
Well, the young woman did have her aunt Melinda, who’d do all in her power to ease the bride-to-be’s way. To that end, she opened her desk drawer and pulled out one of the two shafts of documents she had her solicitor draw up.
Minutes later Melinda, suspecting Olivia was still too upset to sleep, knocked on the first of the fourth floor guest bedro
om doors.
She heard rustling before a shaft of light burst from beneath the door and Olivia said, “Come in.”
Melinda opened the door then clucked seeing her normally pretty niece now puffy-eyed, red-nosed, her long hair loose and knotted, sitting in the middle of her rumpled bed. “My dear, if you don’t stop crying you’ll look like a frog by morning.”
Olivia nodded and sniffed. “I know. I just can’t help it. I fear I may be in love. Mind you, I don’t know this for certain, never having been in love before, but...this is all so confusing.”
Melinda nodded. “Well, in order to ascertain the truth you must evaluate the situation. First, does your heart trip when you catch sight of Colin?”
Olivia, looking absolutely miserable, nodded. “Silly, isn’t it?”
“Second, does his kiss turn your knees to jam then take your breath away?”
To Melinda delight, Olivia’s cheeks turned as scarlet as her nose. “Yes.”
“And does he occupy more of your thoughts than he ought in the course of your day?”
“Yes, far too many.”
“And do you find you’re wishing away your day in hopes of seeing him all the sooner?”
Olivia nodded. “I had until I discovered he’d been in this room and found Father’s letter. Now I dread seeing him but I must. I need to explain...so much.”
Melinda sighed. The delightful but sad young woman had just confirmed all that she suspected. Very good. Very good indeed. “My dear Olivia, it’s my pleasure to inform you that you are truly in love. Now wipe your nose and move over. We need to discuss a few very important things.”
After Olivia shifted to her left, Melinda settled on the bed next to her and laid out her shaft of documents. “I need you to sign these papers.”
Olivia frowned studying the first page. “What is...a Charter of Confirmation?”
“Documents required by the Register of the Great Seal. I’m relinquishing my title as Baroness of Dunfirth and gifting it to you.”
Mouth agape, Olivia stared at her. “I...I beg your pardon?”
“Dear, I hold several titles thanks to birth and marriage. I don’t need this one and you do, in order to prove to Colin that you aren’t marrying for a title...because you’ll have one.”
Under The Kissing Bough: 15 Romantic Holiday Novellas Page 7