A Highland Conquest

by Sandra Heath

  A HIGHLAND CONQUEST

  Sandra Heath

  Chapter 1

  It was cool beneath the trees in the Mall, and many fashionable riders made full use of the leafy shade to escape from the relentless blaze of the July sun. The summer of 1819 had been almost unbearably hot so far, and London sweltered after a cold winter and an indifferent spring.

  Lauren Maitland managed her difficult chestnut mount with consummate ease, her equestrian skill so natural and accomplished that she barely needed to give the task any thought at all. Slender and graceful, with large green eyes and tumbling ash-blond curls, she wore a primrose riding habit and veiled black silk top hat that became her very well. She was quite at ease in elegant society and blended very well with the beau monde, but at the same time there was something eye-catchingly different about her. Perhaps it was her confidence on such an awkward mount, or maybe it was simply the stylish cut of her clothes. Whatever it was, she turned heads as she rode with her cousin Hester, and Hester’s husband, Alexander Kingston. But Lauren was so lost in thought that she remained unaware of the stir of admiration she caused, for although physically she was in St. James’s Park in London, mentally she was thousands of miles away across the Atlantic in her home city of Boston, Massachusetts.

  She felt guilty because she was enjoying herself here far more than she’d ever dreamed possible. Today was the fourth of July, and she wished she were at home instead of in the very land from which her countrymen were rightly celebrating their independence! There were times when she wondered why on earth she had allowed herself to be pressed into coming, for in her opinion there hadn’t been any real need. It had been her father’s doing. When she’d inherited a British fortune through her late mother’s family, the Ashworths, he had insisted that it was a necessary courtesy for her to come to London to meet her cousins. She’d given in, but now she felt as if she were consorting with the enemy, even though it was six years since America and Britain had been at war.

  She glanced unhappily around as the cream of London society enjoyed the hot summer afternoon, for there was another more personal and poignant reason why she felt it was wrong to be enjoying herself here. During that last brief war, the man she loved had forfeited his life. How many nights had she spent despising these people? How many times had she wished them in perdition for taking Jonathan from her? Her hands tightened on the reins, but that was the only outward sign she gave of the bitterness that still lingered deep within even though she had been made so welcome here.

  Jonathan Ryder had been an officer on the USS Chesapeake, and one of the forty-eight hands lost off Boston in the unsuccessful confrontation with HMS Shannon. That had been in 1812, and she had never gotten over him. But here she was, having a very agreeable time in the heart of the enemy’s capital, staying with her extremely amiable British cousins and indulging in the many fashionable diversions provided by one of the greatest cities in the world. She shouldn’t be doing it, least of all on the fourth of July!

  Beside her, unaware of her inner conflict, Hester was obliged to concentrate upon her riding, for she wasn’t a particularly accomplished horsewoman. She rode a pretty dapple-gray mare, and was dressed in a sky-blue riding habit with a matching feathered hat. Suddenly she noticed her American cousin’s downcast eyes and reined in.

  “Is something wrong, Lauren? You seem somewhat preoccupied,” she asked with concern.

  Lauren halted as well, forcing a quick smile to her lips. “I was just thinking of home.”

  “But of course, for it’s the Fourth of July, isn’t it? They will all be having a fine time rejoicing in their escape from us wicked British.” Hester smiled warmly. She was small and raven haired, but with the same green eyes that both of them had inherited from their shared Ashworth family connections. She was from the junior branch of the family, but due to two sudden deaths, Lauren was now the sole surviving member of the senior branch, and this was why she had become heiress to the considerable fortune.

  Alex hadn’t noticed that his companions had halted, and rode on as Hester looked anxiously at her cousin. “What’s wrong, Lauren? You’d tell me if you were unhappy, wouldn’t you? I mean, I know you’re a long way from home, but you aren’t alone, truly you aren’t. Alex and I are delighted to have you with us, and if you fear that we secretly resent you for inheriting, you could not be more wrong. Alex is really quite disgustingly wealthy in his own right, and—”

  Lauren leaned quickly across to put a reassuring hand over Hester’s. “I know you don’t resent me, and you mustn’t fear that I think any such thing. You and Alex have made me very welcome, and I’ve enjoyed my stay here more than I ever expected.”

  “We’ve loved having you here, and we’ll both be sad when you go home again.”

  Lauren returned the smile. “I’ll miss you too, Hester. You and Alex must come to Boston to stay.”

  “I’ll warrant you never dreamed you’d say that,” Hester replied with an impish grin.

  “That’s very true.”

  Hester was silent for a moment. “What was he like?” she asked suddenly.

  “Who?”

  “Why, Jonathan Ryder, of course. You’ve hardly spoken of him, and I haven’t really liked to ask.”

  In reply Lauren undid the golden chain around her neck and opened the little locket attached to it. Silently she held it out to her cousin.

  Hester gazed at the tiny head-and-shoulder likeness it contained, and the curl of sandy hair which had been so cleverly arranged like a miniature plume. In his United States naval uniform, with his soft brown eyes and smiling lips, Jonathan Ryder had been very dashing indeed.

  Lauren gazed at the locket for a moment, and then had to look away, for the pain was so keen that tears had sprung immediately to her eyes.

  Hester glanced at her. “You still miss him very much, don’t you?” she murmured, closing the locket and giving it back.

  Lauren nodded. “Sometimes it seems so very fresh still, as if it happened last year instead of six years ago. And before you say it, yes, I do know that it’s too long to still feel as I do.”

  “I wasn’t going to say that,” Hester said gently.

  Lauren gave a self-conscious smile. “My father does, frequently. He says it’s long since time I was a wife, and he’s right. All my friends have been married for some time now, and yet here I am, twenty-seven and still not even vaguely attached.”

  “Not for lack of interest,” Hester pointed out, thinking of the host of eager suitors who’d clustered around Lauren from the moment she’d arrived in London.

  “The prospect of a fortune usually stirs the male heart,” Lauren replied sagely.

  “They didn’t all know about your fortune. Sir Richard Finchley certainly didn’t.” Hester mentioned this gentleman in particular because he had been especially smitten and persistent. Her glance became a little curious then.

  “Actually, there’s something I’ve been longing to quiz you about.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. Why did Sir Richard suddenly cry off where you were concerned? One day he was dancing ardent attendance upon you, and then he suddenly ceased to call. What happened?”

  Lauren toyed a little uncomfortably with her reins. “What happened was that I was guilty of a rather large untruth. You see, I didn’t care for him at all, but while we were riding in Hyde Park one afternoon he became particularly persistent. He simply wouldn’t take a hint, and so I cast around for something which would put him off once and for all. It occurred to me that if Jonathan were still alive, I wouldn’t be pursued in such a way, and so I invented another fiancé back home in Boston. I called him Captain George Hyde, because we were in Hyde Park and I happened to notice St. George’s Hospital. I said that I
was dizzily in love and would be marrying in the new year when I returned to Boston.”

  Hester stared at her and then laughed. “You actually said that?”

  “Yes, although I’m not really proud of myself. You see, to convince him beyond all shadow of a doubt, I went so far as to show him my locket, and I pretended that Jonathan was this fictitious George Hyde. I wish I hadn’t now.” Lauren hesitated regretfully. “Anyway, it worked and I haven’t been bothered by dear Sir Richard since.”

  “I wouldn’t have been as considerate as you, Lauren. If he were to pester me, he’d get a very swift dismissal, not a gentle fobbing-off to spare his feelings.”

  “I just wish I hadn’t used Jonathan.”

  “It wasn’t a very horrendous sin.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  Lauren smiled a little ruefully. “I wish I could get over him.”

  “The pain will pass in the end, you know. You’ll suddenly meet someone else, and then you’ll begin your life again,” Hester said gently. “But I do understand, for I know how I’d feel if I lost Alex.” Her glance moved after her adored husband, who’d now reined in a little further along the Mall to wait for them.

  He wore a brick-colored coat, fawn top hat, and beige breeches, and looked every inch the leading Corinthian he was. Tall and muscular, with startling golden hair and long-lashed blue eyes, he was very much a follower of the fancy. In a society where a gentleman was admired if he indulged in manly sports, from pugilism and fencing to hunting, shooting, fishing, and tooling the ribbons of a coach and four, he was one of the foremost players. But there was also a very romantic and gentle side of his nature—when he’d set out to woo the former Miss Hester Ashworth, he had done so as tenderly as any great lover. It was a love match of the highest order, and he and Hester worshipped each other.

  Another gentleman rode up to Alex suddenly, and Hester’s breath caught with quick delight. “Why, I do believe that that’s Rory he’s talking to!”

  “Rory?” The name conveyed nothing to Lauren as she turned to look as well. The other gentleman was the same height as Alex and as elegantly dressed, but his face was in shadow because his top hat was tugged low over his forehead. He wore an indigo coat and cream kerseymere breeches, and the diamond pin in his unstarched neckcloth flashed now and then in the dappled light filtering through the lacework of branches overhead. He was mounted on a particularly large and rangy bay thoroughbred, which was in such a mettlesome mood that it danced around constantly, striving to be off rather than stand still while its rider indulged in polite conversation.

  Hester smiled. “Yes, it is Rory! I had no idea he was in town!”

  “Who is he?” Lauren asked.

  “One of Alex’s two oldest friends. The other is Fitz, who I’ve told you about recently. Come on, for I long to speak to him again. It must be two years since last he deigned to leave his highland lair and honor London with his presence!” Hester kicked her heel and urged her horse toward the two gentlemen, and Lauren rode after her.

  Alex turned with a broad smile as they approached. “Look who’s here, Hester!”

  Hester beamed and she reined in beside them. “I know, I espied him from afar. It’s wonderful to see you again, Rory.”

  “The pleasure is mutual, Hester,” the gentleman replied, removing his hat before taking her hand and raising it to his lips.

  Her fingers closed warmly over his. “Why have you stayed away so long? What is it about Glenvane Castle that you needs must lurk constantly within its walls?”

  “I fear it’s a long and disagreeable story, Hester,” Rory replied. His voice was soft, with the faintest trace of a Scottish accent, and as Lauren looked at him she saw that he was memorably handsome. He had fine-boned features that were coolly aristocratic, and yet at the same time darkly wild and exciting, as if he were a disconcerting blend of nobleman and pirate. The nobleman was there in his grace of manner, which told of centuries of privilege and blue blood; the corsair was evident in his rugged complexion, expressive gray eyes, rather unruly coal-black hair, and air of restless, pent-up energy. Rory Ardmore would probably be as much at home on board a privateer as in his Scottish castle.

  Alex hastened to introduce Lauren to him. “Rory, this is Hester’s cousin, Miss Maitland of Boston. Lauren, may I present Rory Ardmore, eleventh Earl of Glenvane?”

  Rory smiled and drew her hands to his lips as well. “Miss Maitland.”

  “Lord Glenvane.” She met his eyes, and found their directness exceedingly disturbing. This was a man no one would ever take for granted.

  He looked at her for a long moment, and then returned his attention to Alex. “Are you still residing at the same Grosvenor Square address?”

  “Naturally. Where are you staying?”

  “The club. I’m not here for long, and will be returning to Glenvane again in a few days’ time. I’ve been attending to certain legal matters which should have been dealt with over a year ago.”

  “Nothing awkward, I trust?” Alex said.

  Rory gave a faint smile. “No, just the formal relinquishing of any claim to a share of the estates of my late wife’s family.”

  Alex and Hester stared at him, for they had had no idea that he’d been married.

  Their astonishment amused him. “It’s a very long and disagreeable story.”

  Hester was quite flustered. “Why didn’t you tell anyone you were married?”

  “It’s an episode I prefer to forget.”

  “Oh.” Hester quite obviously longed to pry a little further, but Rory’s manner precluded any questions. She glanced at Alex, who raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

  Lauren was curious as well, and found herself wondering greatly about the late Lady Glenvane.

  Alex cleared his throat and changed the subject. “How are Jamie and Mary?”

  “Nothing has changed as far as my wastrel brother is concerned. He’s still single and still as charmingly beyond redemption as ever. More often than not he’s to be found in one gaming hell or another, and the duns are frequently a little too close for comfort.”

  Alex grinned. “As you say, nothing has changed.”

  “Acting responsibly was never Jamie’s forte, I fear, and the day is fast approaching when for his own good I will be obliged to teach him a very salutary lesson. As for my sister, well, if your command of mathematics has endured, you will know that she’s about to celebrate her eighteenth birthday. The little hoyden who liked to ride bareback over the moors has become very much the proper young lady.”

  “A pretty one too, I’ll be bound,” Alex said.

  Rory smiled. “We Ardmores are all a very handsome lot,” he murmured.

  “And so modest,” Hester observed dryly, having recovered from the shock of finding out about his marriage.

  Rory turned his head as a church clock struck the hour, and it was clear he was about to bring the brief reunion to a close, but Alex was anxious not to leave it at that. “Look, we can’t just meet and part like this. We must see each other again before you return to Glenvane,” he said quickly.

  Hester nodded. “I agree, and what’s more I insist that you dine with us, sir. Please come tonight.”

  “I’m not good company at the moment, I fear.”

  Alex raised an eyebrow. “I can’t believe that. Besides, we are old friends, and I can’t think of anything more agreeable than a chin-wag about the past. And talking of the past, Hester and I met Fitz and his new wife recently.”

  The ghost of a smile played upon Rory’s lips. “So, you’ve made the acquaintance of at least one of your old friends’ wives?”

  Alex colored a little. “That isn’t what I meant.”

  “I know. Forgive me. Actually, I’m rather surprised to learn that the lady has been persuaded to cross the Irish Sea, for I was under the impression that nothing Fitz said or did could lure her from Dublin.”

  “She made it clear to us that London wasn’t to her liking,” Alex admitted.


  “And your opinion of her?”

  “Ah, well, that we will discuss over dinner,” Alex replied, exchanging a glance with Hester.

  Lauren observed the glance, and thought back to the day Hester and Alex had encountered Lord and Lady Fitzsimmons in Bond Street. Their delight on meeting Fitz again had been tempered with an instinctive dislike of his beautiful Irish wife.

  Rory saw the exchange as well. “My curiosity is greatly aroused,” he murmured.

  “Sufficiently to honor us with your presence tonight?” Hester pressed.

  “You’re both quite set upon this invitation, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I accept, of course.”

  Alex was pleased. “Excellent.”

  “But for the moment I fear I must bring this agreeable meeting to a close. À bientôt, mes amis, Miss Maitland.” Rory’s glance encompassed Lauren for a moment, and then he urged his horse away in the direction of Constitution Hill.

  Hester gazed after him. “I can’t believe he’s been married and widowed in the past two years. Who was she, I wonder? And what happened?”

  Alex shrugged. “The Lord alone knows. One thing seems clear, however—the marriage was a bitter experience.”

  “Yes. Oh, how I wanted to ask him more!” Hester replied with a sigh.

  “Your base curiosity will no doubt be fully satisfied tonight,” Alex replied. “Now then, let’s continue with this ride before our horses become thoroughly out of sorts.” Kicking his heel, he rode on along the crowded Mall, and Hester followed.

  Lauren remained where she was for a moment, turning in the saddle to gaze after the now-vanished Earl of Glenvane. The memory of his eyes remained with her, as did the soft Scottish inflection in his voice. In spite of his quick smiles and lazily amused eyes, there was something deeply unhappy about him, something intriguingly unhappy…

  Without a doubt, Rory Ardmore was the most interesting man she had met in a long time. A very long time.

  Chapter 2