It was an impressive home. The grim stone walls she had envisioned did not exist. White-painted walls acted as a foil for exquisite paintings and a charming collection of etchings. She’d expected to see lurking suits of armor, but Castle Parnell held no reminders of its owners’ heraldic past. The rooms were comfortably furnished, light and airy, the plastered ceilings bordered with carved moldings.
Three of the castle’s four wings, James informed her, were still used by the family, while the fourth, which had been abandoned by the preceding generation, now housed a company of militia—though the presence of military within the castle walls was exceptional.
Parnell’s ancestors had, the marquis explained, remained aloof as much as possible from the political fervor that infected many Highland families. That was not to say they did not back the obvious choice when it was politic to do so, but given the opportunity, they generally stayed out of the affairs of kings and generals. They had been rewarded for that prudence by being allowed to keep their ancestral home where many of their neighbors had been forced to forfeit—if not land, titles.
“Do you like it?” the marquis asked shortly. He sounded unexpectedly anxious.
“Oh, yes,” she answered. “It is quite wonderful.”
“I am delighted it meets your approval.”
She darted him a curious glance.
“We are as fortunate in our neighbors, too,” he said.
Her brows rose. “I own I am surprised Clyth offers much in the way of polite society.”
“Not Clyth.” A steely expression replaced his former good-humored one. “I am referring to the neighboring estates. There are two within ten miles. You would never have imagined we are so well populated, would you? And further inland we count fully eight additional families of great merit within a single day’s journey. So, you see, we are never short of company.”
She regarded him in puzzlement. “How delightful.”
“Yes. Exactly,” he said, opening a door and stepping aside. “This is my library. Won’t you be seated?”
He indicated a silk-covered settee, and after seeing her comfortably settled said, “I confess I have led you here intentionally, Mrs. Blackburn. I wanted to tell you the things I should have written regarding the circumstances of your cousin’s death.”
“I already know them, sir.”
The marquis’s brows flew up in surprise.
“I was told my cousin’s death was not the result of an accident.”
The marquis’s expression grew quizzical. “Yes. Just as I wrote to your family in my second letter.”
“Second letter?”
“Yes. I wrote as soon as I realized that the… deaths could not have been the result of an accident.” He regarded her in sober puzzlement. “Did you not receive it?”
“No.” She frowned, searching her memory. It was not unheard of for mail to be lost, especially if the maid hadn’t paid the postage when the courier arrived…. Still, it was odd.
“My dear!” the marquis exclaimed. “My poor Mrs. Blackburn. You did not know?”
“No. I learned of it only after my arrival.”
“I am appalled that you should come to my home to be greeted by such news, and now I find myself in the onerous position of having to compound your shock even more.”
Kate’s head snapped up.
The marquis caught his hands behind his back and paced across the room. “It was wrong of me not to relate the entire truth at once. The fact that you did not receive my second missive in no way exonerates me, but perhaps after you hear my story, you will not think too poorly of me for my decision.”
Kate bade him continue.
He took a deep breath. “Charles and Grace had grown restless here in the north of Scotland.”
This Kate could well believe. In the few letters Grace had written, she had not bothered to hide her distaste for country living. She had set her eye on London and its many delights.
“Charles repeatedly asked me to purchase a town house in London for their use, but I refused.” His color grew bright. “I do not wish to offend you by being too intimate, but I want you to understand the circumstances of this terrible crime.”
“Please, go on.”
“When he died, my father had been for many years incapable of giving the estate the attention it needed. When I inherited, I borrowed heavily in order to turn the land into a profitable enterprise and return the castle to its former splendor. Gradually, my efforts have been rewarded. Not, however, to the extent necessary to set Charles and Grace up in London in the manner in which they’d envisioned themselves.
“And so I told them. It became a yearly ritual between us—he would ask, I would refuse—but one which I was pleased to think that Charles handled without resentment.” His face grew glum. “I was wrong. Charles had not, in fact, ever reconciled himself to my decision. Instead, he had entered into associations by which he hoped to grow wealthy.
“Had grown wealthy, if the evidence of Grace’s sending her belongings to you is any testimony. At least wealthy enough to relocate to London and stylishly, too.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
The marquis sat down beside her. “Charles threw his lot in with a gang of thieves, smugglers, and wreckers.” He gestured out of the window toward the coast. “You see how we are situated. Charles allowed these blackguards to use my coastline for smuggling and, God help his soul, to wreck those poor ships that sought safe harbor during storms.”
“Dear Lord,” Kate whispered. “But what happened?”
The marquis’s face reflected a bitterness Kate guessed was foreign to his nature. “What must happen when one involves oneself with brutes and savages? There was a falling-out. The result was murder.”
“But I was told that they had been killed by mistake!” Kate exclaimed. “That highwaymen had robbed and then killed them to keep Charles from identifying them.”
“That is what I want people to think,” the marquis said somberly. “That is why I did not write the entire truth of the matter to you. I feared you would involve the British authorities, and they would uncover my brother’s involvement with the smugglers.”
He clasped her hand imploringly. “I have four sisters. Two of them live nearby, but the others live in society in London. The scandal would ruin them, and I, perhaps wrongly, can see no good come of their paying for their brother’s greed.”
“No,” Kate answered at once. “No, of course not!”
“You speak without hesitation because you have a kind heart, Mrs. Blackburn,” the marquis said. “But I would not count myself an honorable man if I did not point out that your cousin Grace was murdered because of my brother’s weakness. I would not presume to accuse her of complicity. My intent was never to keep from you the facts as I know them, but rather to wait until we had met before presenting them to you and then allowing you to make a decision as to what course should be taken. Therefore, you must consider whether you think it best to allow me to seek justice without involving the reputations of my family or make a clean breast of the situation to the British authorities.”
Though Kate had little doubt of Grace’s “complicity,” she held her tongue, asking instead, “What course of action will you follow, milord?”
He smiled grimly, releasing her hand. “The militia is already here, Mrs. Blackburn. They shall rout these bas—blackguards from their caves and holes. I will find whoever killed my brother and your cousin, and I will have justice.”
He quelled his anger with an obvious effort. “Forgive me for burdening you with this so soon after your arrival, but I am a simple man, Mrs. Blackburn. I felt it best to have my say at once and hear your answer.”
He would be guided by her decision. The magnitude of what he proposed swept over her. She owed it to the marquis to consider the ramifications carefully. “Do you plan on hunting down the criminals yourself, milord?”
“Good God, no.” He sounded surprised. “I would only make a muck of it. Ca
ptain Watters has already made great headway in identifying the villains.”
“What will happen then?”
“Once we are certain the guilty have been apprehended, I shall hand them over to the authorities for wrecking ships and smuggling. The word ‘murder’ will never be mentioned.”
In other words, there would be no trial for murder, but there would be for wrecking, for which the penalty was the same. Justice would still be served without innocent parties suffering. “I will be guided by what you think best,” she replied softly.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he breathed, “on my behalf as well as my sisters’. I am in your debt.”
“Please. You make me self-conscious.”
“I would not embarrass you for the world. And I will have you know that I do not intend your visit to us should be all grim and dour. I am accounted by most an amiable fellow. I would like you to know me.”
“I would like that, too,” she murmured.
He held out his hand, and she took it. “Then let us continue our walk, shall we?”
Kate approved of the castle. Clearly it was more home than showpiece, and the marquis had made every effort to bring comfort as well as sophistication to these wild parts. She had been exploring a niche in the library when she heard the decisive click of boot heels. Kate looked around as a gentleman in an officer’s uniform entered the room. He wore his hair long, clubbed and powdered in an old-fashioned manner, and held his hat under his arm. His hands were encased in white officer’s gloves.
Though not as handsome as the marquis or owning Kit MacNeill’s rough masculinity, he had a great deal of presence and intensity. His deep-set eyes gazed with an unusual directness above high, angular cheekbones. He looked both intelligent and confident, a credit to his immaculate uniform.
“Milord,” he said, approaching the marquis and inclining his head respectfully.
“Captain Watters,” the marquis replied in surprise. “I sent word that I would meet with you this evening. Did you not receive it?”
“I did, sir. But I have some information I felt certain you would want to hear at once.”
The marquis frowned. “I am currently occupied.”
“I understand that, sir. I have been told that the young woman has arrived, and with her a rough-looking fellow in a regimental jacket.” He awaited confirmation.
“Yes. Mrs. Blackburn.”
“And there is a gentleman with her?” Captain Watters prompted.
“Yes, Captain. Though what concern this is of yours I am at a loss to divine.”
“It may prove of the greatest concern, sir. I dislike the sudden appearance of strangers. Particularly at this time. We know for a fact that the smugglers have a confidant working with them who remains outside the immediate area. Someone who alerts them—”
“Captain Watters!” The marquis, red-faced with embarrassment, motioned toward Kate. “My guest.”
The officer looked around and saw her tucked away in the window embrasure. “Oh!” he exclaimed. “I am so sorry. Please accept my apologies,” he said, bowing to Kate.
“No harm done. I can’t fault you for zeal, now, can I?” The marquis smiled with a touch of exasperation. “Come, Watters, let me introduce you.”
The captain’s face lit with unfeigned pleasure.
“Mrs. Blackburn, may I present Captain Watters? Captain Watters, Mrs. Blackburn.”
He snapped forward at the waist, bowing deeply.
“How do you do, sir?” Kate murmured, slightly disconcerted by the captain’s open admiration. His smile transformed his austere features, making him extremely attractive and warming his eyes with a wealth of feeling. She found herself smiling uncertainly back. Indeed, at that moment she felt she knew him.
“Excellent well, ma’am. Now,” he answered with such good humor she could take no offense. The marquis did not look quite so pleased.
“Very well, Watters. Now what is it you were all in a lather to relate?”
Watters made an effort to attend the marquis, but his appreciative gaze kept straying to Kate. “It can wait, sir. Had I known you were entertaining Mrs. Blackburn I would never have presumed.”
“You are suspicious that Mr. MacNeill is involved in the criminal activities hereabouts,” Kate said.
“Mr. MacNeill, ma’am?” Captain Watters asked.
“The young man who escorted me here.”
“Not I, ma’am,” he said staunchly and without the least credibility.
“That was not the impression I received. If I am wrong, I apologize, but if not, I can disabuse you of any such absurd notion. Mr. MacNeill is well known to me”—a little lie and a great truth—“and I can attest that he is not involved with the smugglers.”
The captain inclined his head graciously. “That is quite good enough for me, ma’am.”
“And me,” avowed the marquis.
The captain did not make any further comment, but he did not cease regarding Kate until finally, flustered and unused to such attention, she said, “You are disconcerting me, Captain. Pray, what do you find so fascinating?”
He did not equivocate. “Your visage, ma’am, while fully feminine and lovely, puts me in mind of another. You are not by chance related to a Yorkish family by the name of Nash?”
“Why, yes. My maiden name is Nash, and my father was Colonel Roderick Nash.”
“I thought as much!” the captain declared. Deep emotion colored his voice. “I did not know your father personally, nor did I serve in his regiment, but when I was in France I met him there once.” His tone grew somber. “His death was a great loss, ma’am.”
“Thank you.”
“You’ll join us for dinner this evening, Watters?” the marquis asked. “Mr. MacNeill will be joining us, and he too is a military man.”
“Is he?”
“Perhaps you have some acquaintances in common.”
“Doubtless, sir, and at any other time I would gladly accept your invitation, but alas, duty calls. There is a situation farther up the coast that may well be worth my time looking into.”
“Very well. When you return, then.”
The captain turned to Kate. “I shall look forward to it. By your leave, sir? Ma’am?”
Kate inclined her head, and the captain, after executing another bow, left her once more with the marquis. It was as well. The captain was the sort of man who had such force of personality and presence that other men, regardless of titular superiority, faded before him. Even as estimable a man as the marquis.
Though she doubted Kit MacNeill would be diminished.
She tried to smooth the frown the thought of Kit brought, but the marquis noted it and despite her protests—halfhearted though they were—insisted they end the tour, as she was clearly fatigued. He returned her to Peggy, waiting dutifully in the Great Hall. The maid led her up the long staircase and down a brightly lit corridor to a large, airy room furnished in yellow and white, the walls covered in a peacock blue material. It was, as had been all the rooms Kate had seen, furnished in impeccable taste.
“Here we are, ma’am.” Peggy bustled ahead of Kate, clicking her tongue as she plumped the pillows on the chair beside the fireplace. Her broad, comfortable face broke into a grin. “And here is your trunk.”
“It’s not mine. It belonged to Grace,” Kate said.
A cloud passed over her cheerful face. “I’m sorry your visit here is under such sad circumstances.”
Kate inclined her head, accepting the maid’s sympathy even as she realized that no one had yet voiced any personal grief over Grace’s demise. Even Grace’s maid did not evince any real sense of loss.
Kate had hoped that Grace had found happiness in her adulthood, but everything suggested that the restless, discontented child she had been had become a woman of similar temperament. The thought led Kate to consider whether she herself had become the sort of young woman she had once hoped to be. Certainly, she would never have thought herself capable of taking a lover outside the sa
nction of marriage. Yet, disturbingly, it was not this that made her feel that she had compromised herself.
It was …being here.
She veered away from the odd, distressing thought.
“Is something wrong, Mrs. Blackburn?” Peggy straightened from unpacking Kate’s few dresses.
“No.” She forced a smile to her lips.
The maid scowled down at the gowns she held. “John said as how Mrs. Murdoch’s things had been ruined, but he didn’t mention yer own dresses had been destroyed, too.”
“Excuse me?”
Peggy nodded sagely. “They ruined most yer wardrobe, clear as day it is, and you, being the lady you are, didn’t want to say.” She clucked her tongue. “Poor lambkin, arriving with naught but a pair of old-fashioned gowns to wear. Not to worrit, dear. Mrs. Murdoch was always sending to Inverness for a seam-stress to come and make her new frocks. Why, there must be a dozen in her wardrobe she never even had on. You can wear those.”
“Oh! I couldn’t—”
“Why ever not?” Peggy exclaimed, eyeing her. “You’re a bit thinner but close enough in height, and they’re only collecting dust now.”
“The marquis might not approve of another wearing Mrs. Murdoch’s things.”
Peggy was having none of it. “He’d only be too pleased someone had found good use for them.”
“Well, then, another member of the family might find it painful to see Mrs. Murdoch’s things worn by another.”
From the manner in which Peggy’s eyes darted away, Kate surmised she was correct. Thank God, at least one person missed Grace.
“Who?” she asked.
Peggy didn’t equivocate. “Miss Mertice Benny, Lord Parnell’s ward. She pines after Mrs. Murdoch something dreadful. They were very close, both being pretty and both being young.” Peggy sighed. “She’ll heal though, given time.”
“I would not want to add to her affliction.”
“And you won’t,” Peggy replied staunchly, and Kate realized that she had gained an ally in the household. “I’ll make certain you only wear dresses Mrs. Murdoch never did.”
Kate was not certain she wanted to dress in her dead cousin’s things, but she was too tired to argue, and she no longer possessed that air of command that assured her wishes would be carried out without question. She nodded, and Peggy hurried away, eager to carry out her mission.
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