'No, that is true. It is too far. It would be a long journey and James is too busy to give up so much time to accompany me. For a visit closer to home, however, it might be possible for him to spare the time. In fact, he might even permit me to join the colonel without his escort. Colonel Anstruther is, after all, a perfect gentleman and can be trusted to behave honourably. And I would have you to chaperon me, naturally.' She glanced sideways to see whether her brother was listening. She was almost sure he was.
'Well, ye'd best hope that the colonel wisna offended by yer refusal of his invite the day, Miss Cassie. Maybe he'll not be making another.'
'That would be a pity. I should so hate to lose his friendship. It is seldom that one meets a true gentleman hereabouts. And the colonel is certainly one.'
'Aye, he is that. So ye'd best take care not to turn down another invite.'
Cassie nodded. 'I'm sure you are right, Morag. I shall...er...I shall mention it to my brother, I think. I know he holds the colonel in the highest regard. I am sure he would not like to lose the acquaintance of such a man.'
Morag was asking with her eyes whether the charade was to continue. Just at that moment, however, the carriage turned off the road on to the Langrigg estate and James spurred his horse in the direction of the house. It was over.
For now.
'Cassie, would you favour me with a few moments of your time?'
Cassie paused halfway up the staircase, struck by the politeness of James's request. 'Of course, James. If you will allow me time to change my clothes, I will—'
'Now, Cassie,' he snapped, taking a step into the hallway.
Just that single step seemed menacing. Cassie turned, assuming what she hoped was a confident smile. 'I will come immediately, since you wish it.' She walked calmly back down the stairs and into the little parlour.
'About Colonel Anstruther.' He began to pace.
Cassie took a seat by the empty grate and smoothed her skirts,
'You were very remiss in your dealings with him this morning. Ho was offended by the way you refused his offer.'
Cassie smoothed her skirts again, pleased to see that her hands were not shaking. 'Think you so? Oh, dear, how very stupid of me. It was certainly not my intention. I could see that you were against the visit, so I thought that it would be better if the refusal came from me. He could hardly pursue the matter once a lady had made her excuses.'
'No, he could not. But he could conclude that you were a mannerless harpy. Because of your stupidity—you do well to admit it—he may ail the acquaintance altogether. And then where will you be?'
Cassie ignored his last question. 'Forgive me, brother. Did I misread you earlier? I was so sure you misliked the idea of spending a day al I he abbey. If I had—'
'Of course I misliked the idea. There are a million better ways of passing the time than trailing around after a milksop sister and two jaw-me-dead soldiers clambering over ruined piles of stone.'
'Then—'
'But you, of all people, should have known better than to offend Anstruther by assuming that I would not permit you to go.' 'Oh, does that mean—?'
'It means that I require you to seize every possible opportunity for furthering your acquaintance with Anstruther. Good God, Cassie, even a chit like you should be able to see that the man is not going to ask for l he hand of a woman he never sees. Do you understand that? Or are you completely witless?'
Cassie bowed her head. 'I am sorry if I have been stupid. And even more sorry if I have offended Colonel Anstruther. But I don't quite understand... What should I have said?'
He stopped pacing and planted himself in front of her chair, legs apart and hands on hips. 'If you had been less direct, had shown a becoming degree of interest in the expedition, you would have made it possible for me to say you could go with my good will, provided you were properly chaperoned. I would have been able to show that I trusted the colonel's honour, as a gentleman, to take care of you in my absence. My unavoidable absence.' James was now working himself up into a real temper. 'The colonel would have been flattered by my confidence. But you, you stupid girl, you prevented it. By Jove, I wonder why I still have patience with you. You thwart my plans at every turn.'
'I am sorry, James,' Cassie said meekly. 'I meant it for the best. Truly. Perhaps the colonel will issue another invitation to me? He did mention something of the sort.'
James narrowed his eyes and muttered something inaudible.
'Am I to take it that, if he should issue another invitation, you would wish me to accept?'
'Good God, is it not obvious? Of course I would wish you to accept, you stupid girl. You are to find ways of fixing the colonel's attentions. And soon. If he should invite you again, you will go. Whatever the destination and whatever the weather.'
'Oh.'
'Do you understand me?'
'Yes. I am to accept any invitation.'
'I'm glad to see that you understand your duty at last, Cassie. It has taken you long enough. But you always were a mutton-headed wench.'
She looked up at him, keeping her face expressionless. 'Would you wish me to accept for you, too?'
He shook his head angrily and resumed his pacing. 'No, of course not. I'm not going to dance attendance on Anstruther until I know the battle is won. Besides, he doesn't like me above half. Especially after— I'm better out of it. You'll take our own carriage, with Tarn on the box, and Morag beside you as chaperon. That will be enough.'
She nodded, not daring to lift her eyes to his, lest he see the triumph in them.
'You'd better start praying that another invitation does arrive, my girl. Or I promise you that your life here will not be worth living.'
Cassie said nothing more. She rose and made her way quietly to the door, keeping her gaze demurely lowered. But inside, her heart was dancing. Victory had come so much sooner than she had dared to dream. Her plan was working. And she knew she could rely on Captain Graham to fulfil his part.
Soon she would have her chance to escape.
Ross continued his wandering around the ruins. He was glad that he had come alone. The colonel would have been a source of much interesting information, of course, but Ross was more than content to be alone with his own thoughts.
He stood looking down the nave and into the presbytery where only the delicate tracery remained of what must have been a most beautiful window. If there had been stained glass, it was now replaced by the piercing blue of the summer sky. It might have been gloomy here, once, but now the roofless building was filled with light. Such an amazing ruin. And begun—according to the colonel—because Devorguilla, Lady of Galloway, had chosen to build a Cistercian abbey here as a lasting memorial to her beloved husband, John Balliol.
Ross walked slowly down the nave, though it was a grassy sward now. Somewhere here, the Lady Devorguilla was buried, along with the casket that contained her husband's heart. Ross stopped when he reached the threshold of the presbytery. The lady's grave must be somewhere here, where the altar would have stood. Ross would not tread on it. Let her sleep in peace.
He wandered back into the nave and then out into what had once been the cloister garden, skirting round the new church that leant against the side of the long wall. The church was a neat enough building, but totally out of keeping with the stark grandeur of the ruins. He strolled round to the east end of the abbey from where the new parish church could not be seen. Ross much preferred to see only the gaunt beauty of the abbey's red sandstone against the stark blue of the sky.
Why had be come here? He was not altogether sure. Possibly because of an interest sparked by the colonel's knowledgeable discourse. Or was it perhaps Miss Elliott's rather wistful description? A woman's love so strong and enduring that she would build an abbey to it. Was it possible for such a love to exist nowadays? After Julie, he had thought it was impossible. Yet he hoped he was wrong, for the sake of his friend Max, if not for himself. Ross did not expect to find love. Not now. Not after Julie
's betrayal. How could he ever trust another woman?
He realised, with surprise, that Julie's image was fading. When he had left London, he had been unable to think of her without pain. Now he barely thought of her at all. What did it mean?
He shook his head, wondering at his own fickleness. Was it only a few weeks ago that he had sworn eternal fidelity to Julie in his heart? He sat down on a block of sandstone and dropped his head back for a moment to stare up at the sky. For once, there was not a single cloud to be seen. It might have been the south of France rather than the south of Scotland. He had first laid eyes on Julie against just such a pure, fierce sky. The picture she made had taken his breath away. Was that the reason why he had fallen in love with her?
He could not deny that Julie was a fine young woman—beautiful, brave and steadfast. Rather like Cassie Elliott, in fact. Both women had endured great hardships. Both women were worthy of a man's regard.
And yet there was a difference between them. He could see that now. Julie had been deceiving him. She had used his help, and his escort, to escape to her lover in England and to regain her noble status. It was Ross's own fault that he had been used, for he had been so besotted by her beauty and her courage that he had not asked even the most obvious questions. She had played him for a fool. He had put her on a pedestal, like a fine marble statue, and refused to see the slightest hint that the precious stone might be cracked.
Cassie Elliott, by contrast, could never be put on a pedestal. She was much too alive, much too real. Oh, she was beautiful—no doubt on that score—but, equally, she was damnably hot at hand. Yet she was honest through and through. She would never use Ross, or anyone else. Not in a way that was deceitful. She was the kind of woman, like the Lady Devorguilla, who would give her heart, fully and for ever.
The man who could win Cassie's love would be fortunate indeed. For the first time in his life, Ross felt a tiny flicker of regret that he lacked the wealth and family that made a man a good catch. II he could have paid James Elliott's price for his sister, would he have done so? He shuddered. No. Never. Such a thing would be depraved, and wicked. He sides, Ross was not in search of a wife. And Cassie Elliott was not in the least suitable, even if he were. What gentleman would marry such a headstrong girl, with no dowry and a blood-sucking drunk for a brother? Cassie Elliott was probably destined to die a spinster, in spite of her remarkable qualities.
That unhappy thought sent a momentary shaft of pain through Ross's body. Poor girl, to be denied a home and children, simply because of a blackguard like James Elliott. She deserved better, did she not? Her behaviour was sometimes improper, to be sure, but it was Ross who had almost forced her to accept his escort when all she had wanted was a small loan. Now he was totally committed to helping her, but that was Ross's doing, not Cassie's. Indeed, something very similar had happened with Julie when—
A tiny seed of doubt began to take root. Was it possible that Cassie had contrived the situation, knowing that Ross was bound to offer to help her? Was she using him, as Julie had done?
No, it could not be true. Cassie was not like Julie. He was sure of it. Almost.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts, searching for the soldier's solution. It came. As ever, it was simple. He must keep his promise, but he must also ensure that he did not become personally involved with Miss Elliott's troubles. He would simply escort her to her godfather's house and leave her there. And he would maintain a proper distance between them throughout.
He looked up at the sky again. The colour no longer seemed pristine The sun had lost its warmth. His friend Max had been fond of joking that Ross was the one who could always see the sunshine and the good in everyone. Max had been the one to see the black side. Now, after Julie. Ross was beginning to ape his friend. Love—unrequited love—was de finitely a hard taskmistress.
But he must not allow it to blight his life. He knew that now. Having recognised his own weaknesses, he must set about putting his life back on an even keel. After he had disposed of Miss Elliott.
He must discover the truth about his father. He must. It was here somewhere, he was sure of that. His friend Max had roundly hated his own father. But at least Max had had a choice. Ross had had no father to hate. Or to love. And there had been such emptiness in his childhood after his mother's early death. Even at the end, she had refused to answer any of his questions. All Ross had were a few memories, grey and misty through the veil of time: an old man shouting at him in a broad accent while his mother cowered away, trying to protect Ross; a day on a beach, trying to skim stones across the firth; a long journey in a rickety carriage that smelled of damp, with only his mother for company. She had wept over him that night. He still remembered his boyish shock at the sight of her tears. And how he had slept in her arms.
Something must have happened to them in Scotland. As a boy of just three, he had not understood but, as a man, he could begin to read the memories, frail though they were. His mother had taken her son and fled from her husband. Why? What had he done to her? And how had she managed to hide from him until she died? Had he not been looking for them?
Ross shook his head. Too many questions and no answers. He could not begin to untangle the tale until he had discovered where his family came from. He must keep looking.
But first, he must fulfil his promise to Miss Elliott.
He rose to his feet and began to walk swiftly round the outside of the transept. This place was affecting him strangely. It was peaceful and serene; and yet strangely disquieting, bringing back forgotten memories. He looked up at the greenery growing along the top of the ruined wall of the nave. It softened the stonework, even though it looked incongruous against the soaring arches beneath.
He would never forget this place, he realised. It was strong and steadfast. And very beautiful.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, a small voice responded, 'It has all the qualities of Cassie Elliott. You would not offer for her. Yet you willingly lay your service at her feet.'
Chapter Ten
Ross took his teacup and returned to his seat opposite Mrs Anstruther.
'That was a splendid dinner, ma'am, as ever. I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you and the colonel for your hospitality.'
Mrs Anstruther smiled broadly. 'Believe me, Captain Graham, it is our pleasure to have you here as our guest. Why, until you arrived, my husband hardly went anywhere, except on business. He would always find some excuse not to leave me. But now he is going about on pleasure trips. And I may tell you I am delighted to see it. I do thank you for it, sir.'
Ross returned the smile as best he could. 'You will be without us both again tomorrow, ma'am, I fear, for your husband has offered to take me to Caerlaverock.'
'Yes, indeed,' added the colonel from his place beside his wife. 'It is a magnificent castle. And well named, too. Lark's nest, in English. You will be impressed, Graham, I am sure. I am hoping that, on this occasion, Miss Elliott will join us there. Her brother can have no cause to object this time. It is hardly any distance from their home. And the invitation came from an impeccable source.' He beamed at his wife.
'Oh, my dear, I am so sorry,' cried Mrs Anstruther. 'I completely forgot to tell you. Miss Elliott did reply to my invitation. Just this morning, in fact. She sends her apologies. She would very much have liked to join you both at Caerlaverock, but is prevented by a prior engagement.'
The colonel frowned angrily. 'Humph. I take leave to doubt the existence of this prior engagement. Miss Elliott is well known as a recluse who never goes anywhere. Or rather, who is never permitted to go anywhere. I detect her brother's fell hand here, yet again. Do you not agree, Graham?'
Ross did not meet the colonel's eye. 'Perhaps some household duty keeps her at home tomorrow? She must have many tasks, as mistress of Langrigg. I am sure she would have accepted Mrs Anstruther's invitation if it had been possible.'
'There may yet be other opportunities,' Mrs Anstruther said brightly. 'I shall invite her again
and again, until her brother finally relents. Mr Elliott will discover that I am not easily bested.'
The colonel laughed. 'I can certainly vouch for that, my dear.' He reached across and patted her hand. 'However, you can only continue to invite Miss Elliott while Graham is here with us. It would look most peculiar—and do the lady's reputation no good at all—if she were to be known to make excursions with only myself for company.'
His wife nodded sadly. Then she rallied. 'Well, we must make sure that Captain Graham remains here with us for many weeks yet, must we not?'
The colonel readily agreed.
Ross did his best to join in their cheerful conversation, but it was not easy. He was not a practised liar, and it was especially difficult to dissemble with hosts as generous as the Anstruthers. But, on this occasion, he would just have to do the best he could.
Until deliverance came.
'Excuse me, madam.' The colonel's footman stood bowing, just inside the drawing-room door. 'A letter has just come express. For Captain Graham.'
'Oh, dear.' Mrs Anstruther had turned visibly paler. No doubt she assumed, as most people did, that an express letter must be bringing bad news.
Ross rose from his seat and strode across to the doorway to take the letter from the salver. 'Thank you, Gordon.'
The footman beamed, clearly pleased that the guest knew his name. The smile was instantly wiped from his face, however, when the colonel rose from his seat and cleared his throat noisily. Gordon straightened his shoulders and raised his chin. 'Will you be wishing to send a reply, sir?'
'One moment.' Ross ripped open the seal and scanned the sheet rapidly. 'No. No reply.'
The footman bowed and silently withdrew.
'Not bad news, I hope, Captain Graham?'
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