To Wed A Wild Scot

by Bradley, Anna

  Something is terribly wrong here…

  He hadn’t answered any of those letters. Not one.

  She raised her gaze to Logan Blair. She couldn’t explain why she needed to see his face, but some instinct made her seek him out. He was standing in front of the window, his back to them, his shoulders stiff. He’d withdrawn as soon as Fitzwilliam entered the room, but Juliana knew he was listening to every word that passed between them.

  He didn’t turn, and Juliana brought her gaze back to Fitzwilliam. “Nothing has happened to Grace yet, but it will if I can’t find a way to stop it. I need your help, Fitz, rather urgently.”

  “Yes, of course. You know I’d do anything for you, Lina.”

  “My father is refusing to make me Grace’s testamentary guardian as long as I remain unmarried.” Juliana struggled to keep her voice steady. Whenever she thought of the fate that awaited Grace if she didn’t secure a husband, her heart stuttered in her chest, and her entire body started trembling.

  “You’re not married? I thought…I had a letter from Lord Madsen several months ago, and he said you were betrothed to Lord Pierce.”

  Juliana stifled her groan. She’d been hoping he hadn’t heard that particular piece of news, but she should have known better. She and Hugh hadn’t announced their betrothal or had the banns read, but it seemed every person within ten miles of Graystone Court was intimately acquainted with her business nonetheless. “We were betrothed for a short time, yes, but he, ah…he isn’t my husband. We didn’t marry. He fell in love with another lady, and I couldn’t bear to…well, she’s lovely, and they’re very happy together.”

  Fitzwilliam’s face darkened. “You mean to say he jilted you?”

  “No, no.” The last thing she needed was for Fitzwilliam to fall into a fury over Lord Pierce. “Indeed, you can’t blame Lord Pierce. He didn’t jilt me. It was quite the opposite, really. I’m fond of him, as you know, and I couldn’t bear to be the one who stood in the way of his marrying the lady he loved.”

  If she’d known what would happen when they returned to Graystone Court, she might not have taken such a romantic view of it. Those as desperate as she was had no business being generous.

  Fitzwilliam was shaking his head, trying to make sense of it all. “Then you’re not married?”

  “No, I’m not, and I…I need to be, Fitzwilliam. As soon as possible. Otherwise I’m going to lose Grace.”

  All the color drained from Fitzwilliam’s face. Juliana half-rose from her chair, alarmed. “Fitzwilliam? Are you all right?”

  “Yes, of course. Perfectly well.” He urged her back into her chair, but avoided meeting her eyes. “None of this makes sense, Lina. Why should your father wish to take Grace from you? Since Jonathan’s death, you’ve been like a mother to that child.”

  Tears once again pressed behind Juliana’s eyes, and she bit her lip hard to keep them at bay. Now she was back with Fitzwilliam at last, it was tempting to simply lay her head on the broad chest that had so often been her comfort when she was a child.

  But she wasn’t a child any longer.

  She swallowed her tears, and raised her chin. “You don’t understand. You know how grief-stricken he was after Jonathan died, but since his most recent attack, it’s become much worse. He’s not himself anymore. His mind is weak, and he falls prey to all sort of fears and delusions. I should have seen at once how it was, but it came on so gradually I didn’t understand how much he’d deteriorated until he threatened to take Grace away from me.”

  Fitzwilliam dragged a hand through his hair. “I can’t fathom it, Lina. I can’t conceive of your father doing something so cruel.”

  “He doesn’t understand he’s being cruel. He thinks he does it for my own good. I’m his youngest daughter, Fitzwilliam, and his only remaining child. If he were in his right mind he’d never dream of taking Grace from me, but his wits often wander. He flies into rages, and he forgets things. Sometimes he talks about Jonathan and Emma as if they’re still alive.”

  “Perhaps if I wrote to him, tried to reason with him—”

  “No. Even when he’s lucid he can’t be reasoned with. He’s afraid, both for himself and for me and Grace. He’s made his wishes very clear in his will, and until I can present him with a husband, he refuses to change it. He can’t be made to understand I could have any difficulty securing a spouse.”

  Juliana didn’t quite understand it herself. A lady who’d been betrothed not once but twice had reason to suppose she’d marry eventually, but with one thing and another…

  With one thing and another, her first betrothed had fled to Scotland, and her second had fallen in love with another lady. Juliana couldn’t make herself regret giving up Hugh to Isla Ramsey—how could she? Hugh was her friend, and no two people could be more in love than Hugh and Isla.

  But it had been a rash thing to do, and now she was paying the price for it.

  Her selflessness in releasing Hugh from their betrothal had not been rewarded. There didn’t seem to be a single gentleman in England who cared to marry her—at least, not one she’d consider marrying—and now Grace’s future was hanging in the balance.

  Fitzwilliam rose from his chair with a jerk and began pacing in front of the fireplace. “What happens to Grace if you don’t marry?”

  Juliana paused. Dear God, how to explain it? This entire mess with her father’s will had been a nightmare from the beginning, but this part was by far the worst of it. She dreaded telling Fitzwilliam, but there was no help for it. He must be made to understand how dire things were. She drew in a deep breath to steady herself. “Lord Cowden gets her.”

  Fitz stopped pacing and turned to her, horror on his face. “No, Lina. It can’t be. Not him.”

  The now-familiar wave of helplessness rolled over Juliana, stealing her breath. It was the same thing she’d said to herself, over and over again.

  It can’t be him. Anyone but him…

  But it could be. It was. “It’s true, Fitzwilliam. If I don’t marry, Benedict gets custody of Grace and guardianship over her fortune and her future.”

  Lord Cowden—or Benedict Reid, as Fitzwilliam and Juliana knew him—had been their neighbor and childhood playmate. The three of them had been inseparable at one time, but as they grew older Benedict had grown bitterly envious of Fitzwilliam. Fitzwilliam’s fortune was greater, his title grander, and his future wife…

  More than anything, Benedict envied Fitzwilliam Juliana.

  As it always did, envy turned to resentment, and resentment to hatred. Their childhood playmate had become their nemesis, and he was a formidable one.

  Lord Cowden was clever, charming. All the ton exclaimed over his elegance, his wit. But at his heart Benedict was a cold, brutal man. No one understood that better than Juliana and Fitzwilliam. A man couldn’t hide his true nature from those who’d known him his whole life, and they knew Benedict for what he was.

  Juliana resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands. It was a disaster. If it had been anyone but Benedict, perhaps she could have reconciled herself to it for Grace’s sake. But to turn her beloved niece over to such a villain…no, it was impossible. She’d run away with Grace before she’d ever let Benedict have her.

  “I don’t understand this, Lina.” Fitzwilliam looked dumbfounded. “Of all people, how could your father have chosen him? How did this happen?”

  How? It was such a long, ugly story Juliana hardly knew where to begin. “About two months after you left for Scotland, Benedict came to me with an offer of marriage. He said—”

  “Marriage!” Fitzwilliam’s face darkened with fury. “When he knew you were betrothed to me? That blackguard. He’s always wanted you, Lina, always schemed to get you for himself.”

  “He’s always wanted my fortune, you mean.” Her father’s money, his properties—none of it was entailed. Even Graystone Court would go to Juliana.<
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  Fitzwilliam’s hands clenched into fists. “He wants both.”

  Juliana had been determined he’d get neither, and that was when the battle with Benedict had begun. “I refused him, but I was scared, Fitzwilliam. I knew he’d never give up as long as he thought he could get his hands on the estate, so I persuaded my father to secure everything in a trust for Grace, so my husband can’t touch a penny of it. I thought it would dissuade Benedict—put him off the idea of marrying me.”

  “That wouldn’t dissuade him. He still wants you, Lina.”

  A shudder wracked Juliana at the thought of either herself or Grace at Benedict’s mercy. “It did dissuade him for a time, but then Benedict began paying frequent visits to my father. They’d spend hours together, closeted away in my father’s study. I tried to put a stop to it, or at least to remain in the room while Benedict was there, but my father wouldn’t hear of my interfering in ‘gentleman’s business,’ as he put it.”

  Fitzwilliam laughed bitterly. “Let me guess. Once their gentleman’s business was concluded?”

  “Benedict had persuaded my father he couldn’t possibly leave Grace in an unprotected woman’s care. My father became frightened for me and Grace, and at Benedict’s urging he added an amendment to his will, designating Benedict as Grace’s guardian unless I’m married to a respectable gentleman by the time of my father’s death. That’s why Hugh and I became betrothed.”

  Fitz looked dazed. “I can’t believe Lord Graystone would agree to such a thing.”

  “If he’d been in his right mind he wouldn’t have, but his wits are befuddled, and he’s easily worked upon. Benedict played on his fears. My father knows he’s dying, and he’s desperate to see me safely married before he passes away. Remember too that Benedict’s father was my father’s dear friend and neighbor, and we grew up with Benedict. My father trusts him.”

  Fitzwilliam dragged his hands down his face. “Does Benedict think to coerce you into a marriage with him this way?”

  “No, he thinks to punish me for refusing him. There’s no longer any question of a marriage between us. He recently married Lady Jane Abbott.”

  “Then I pity her.” Fitz shook his head. “This can’t be, Lina. No matter what, Grace can’t go to Cowden.”

  Juliana didn’t answer, but sat quietly, biting her lip. She knew of only one way to save Grace from Benedict. Fitzwilliam knew it as well as she did, but he hadn’t said a word about their betrothal. That he hadn’t brought it up said more than any other word he’d uttered.

  Every one of her feminine instincts rebelled against introducing the topic herself. No lady wanted to offer her hand to a gentleman who hadn’t asked for it, but neither could she allow Grace to be turned over to a monster like Benedict Reid.

  “Do you intend to remain in Scotland much longer? My father’s health is precarious. If we intend to…that is, the understanding between our families…” Juliana trailed off, her face heating. Oh, how awful this was! It didn’t seem as if Fitzwilliam was still keen to marry her anymore, yet what was she to do if he didn’t? He was her last chance.

  Grace’s last chance…

  Juliana sucked in a breath, and plunged ahead. “We’ve been betrothed to each other from the cradle, Fitzwilliam. Our families always intended we’d marry. We’re friends, moreover, aren’t we?”

  His gaze met hers, and his blue eyes softened. “Of course, we are, Lina. The best of friends.”

  Juliana’s heart swelled with hope. “Then do this for me. Marry me, and return to England with me at once, before it’s too late for Grace.”

  He didn’t answer, but turned his head away from her, his throat working. Later, Juliana would wonder why, after seeing that, she hadn’t realized his next words would devastate her.

  That she’d made a dreadful mistake, coming here.

  “I’m sorry, Lina,” Fitzwilliam said quietly. “I should have realized something was amiss when I didn’t hear from you again after I received your first few letters, but I’ve been quite preoccupied, I’m afraid. Selfishly so.”

  Juliana drew her hands into her lap, pressing them tightly together to hide their trembling. “Grace and I need you, Fitzwilliam. We need you to do this for us.”

  “Oh, my beloved girl.” Fitz strode over to her, and knelt beside her chair. “If there was any way for me to help you, any way at all, you know I would, but…”

  But…

  That one tiny word sent Juliana’s last hope crashing to the ground.

  Fitzwilliam grasped her hands in his, his eyes pleading for her to understand. “I wrote to you when I received Lord Madsen’s letter about your betrothal to Lord Pierce, but you never replied.”

  Never replied? How could he say that? She’d written him letter after letter! He’d been the one who’d never replied. Unless…

  Juliana’s gaze shot to Logan Blair, and a dark suspicion rose in her breast as she gazed at that broad back. Had he taken all of the letters she’d written to Fitz and burned them?

  All this time—weeks, months—had Fitzwilliam not seen any but the first few letters she’d written him? There’d been dozens. How many of them had been consigned to the flames at the Sassy Lassie, with Fitzwilliam none the wiser? Just the one? A dozen? Had Mr. Blair read them? If he had and was aware of her predicament, then he must be the wickedest, coldest man she’d ever encountered. If he hadn’t, then he would be made to understand right here and now what grievous harm he’d done with his tricks.

  “When I didn’t receive any letters from you, I considered our betrothal to be at an end. I’m…this is more difficult for me than you can ever imagine, Lina, but I did write to you before I…to tell you…”

  Juliana gazed down at him, into his clear blue eyes, and that was when she knew. She shook her head, as if by doing so she could make it not be true. “No. Don’t say it. Please don’t say it.”

  His fingers tightened around hers. “I can’t marry you, Lina, because…because I’m betrothed to someone else.”

  Chapter Five

  “Dear God, I’ve made a dreadful mistake.”

  Lady Juliana pulled away from Fitz. She wandered over to the window and stood looking out into the darkness, her arms wrapped around herself.

  “We’ll find a way, Lina, I promise you.” Fitz took a few steps toward her, but stopped when she didn’t turn around to face him.

  Logan watched her reflection in the window. She kept her back to them, and he could see her struggling to compose her face. When she turned at last she was alarmingly pale, but her chin was high, and her voice steady. “I’m sorry, Fitzwilliam. I should have remained in Surrey. I must have been mad, coming here, but I thought if I…well, it hardly matters now.”

  She thought if she came to Castle Kinross, Fitz would marry her. No doubt he’d promised as much in his earliest letters to her.

  Logan wasn’t a man much given to regrets, but he’d had to look away from the despair on Lady Juliana’s face when Fitz told her he was betrothed to another lady.

  Perhaps she loved him. It stood to reason. They’d known each other since they were children, and there was no mistaking the tender affection between them. Perhaps Fitz had broken her heart, or perhaps her despair had more to do with this strange business regarding the child, Grace.

  One thing was certain. It had nothing to do with Lady Juliana aspiring to become a duchess. He’d been wrong about that. He’d been wrong about a number of things.

  Would it have made any difference if he had read her letters to Fitz? If he’d known there was a great deal more at stake than an English belle’s fortune and a title? Logan wanted to believe it would have—that he would have been more careful with those letters—but he knew damn well whatever decision he’d made would have been in the clan’s best interest, not Lady Juliana’s.

  He couldn’t pretend otherwise, not even to himself.

 
; It was useless to ask the question now. Logan hadn’t read any but that last letter Lady Juliana had written to Fitz, the one he’d read today. He’d burned the rest without opening them. Maybe there was a part of him that had wanted to believe he was somehow less of a villain if he didn’t read them.

  “I left poor Stokes at the Sassy Lassie in Inverness without a word of explanation.” Lady Juliana tried to smile. “He’ll be worried about me. I’ll return tonight to set his mind at ease, and we can be back on the road to London early to—”

  “No.” Fitz hurried across the room to her, alarmed. “Lina, I won’t let you leave like this.”

  Lady Juliana appeared not to hear him. “I promised Lord Arthur I’d be back at Graystone Court within a month, before he and my father return from Bath. I have very little time.”

  “Lina, please—”

  “You’re not going anywhere tonight.” Logan had remained quiet all evening, but he wasn’t any more willing to let Lady Juliana tear off into the night than Fitz was. “You’ve been riding all day. You’re exhausted, and it’s too dark to make that journey.”

  Fitz looked between Logan and Lady Juliana, his face puzzled. “How do you know how long she’s been riding?”

  “Because she followed me to Castle Kinross from Inverness tonight, and before that from Gretna Green,” Logan said bluntly, before Lady Juliana could speak.

  Fitz’s mouth dropped open. “What? She’s been following you for four days? Why?”

  “No. Three days. I didn’t waste any time.” Logan’s gaze wandered over Lady Juliana, taking her in from the top of her head to the toes of her stained boots. She’d removed her riding jacket, but the white shirt she wore beneath was nearly as filthy as the jacket had been. It looked as if she’d tried to secure her hair, but half of it had come loose, and it hung in a tangled mess down her back. “I grant you it looks more like four.”

  It was an unforgivably rude comment, but even anger would be better than Lady Juliana’s silence, that look of frozen despair on her face. It didn’t goad her into a reply as Logan had hoped it would, but Fitz’s face darkened, and he took a threatening step toward Logan. “What the devil’s gotten into you? Apologize to Lady Juliana.”