by Sandra Heath
Rory and Lauren were still on their way to the shore when both Jamie and Fitz made their boats fast and assisted their respective ladies on to the jetty. Lauren couldn’t help watching closely as the two men in Emma Fitzsimmons’s life approached her. Hester and Alex were among those returning to the jetty, and as Emma saw them, she looked to Jamie for reassurance that they were definitely unaware of anything that had taken place at the inn. His slight nod was all she needed, and a wide smile broke upon her face as she flung herself into Fitz’s arms and kissed him on the lips. Jamie looked away.
Lauren drew a long disapproving breath. Hester and Alex’s first impression in Bond Street had been right when they’d instinctively felt Emma Fitzsimmons wasn’t to be trusted. But had Alex’s feeling that he’d seen her before been founded on fact? Lauren looked at him and saw that he was studying Emma, evidently wondering the same thing.
The reunions continued on the jetty. Hester and Alex greeted the new arrival, and so did many others, including Isabel, with whom Emma was apparently very thick, or so it seemed from the effusive greeting.
“Bella! Oh, Bella, it’s so good to see you again. You’ll never know how much I’ve missed our little têtes-à-têtes!”
Emma then saw Rory assisting Lauren out of the boat, and again she turned swiftly to Jamie. Again he reassured her, and she put Lauren from her thoughts as she continued to speak to Isabel. But it was nevertheless of Lauren that she evidently spoke, for Isabel turned to glance at the boat and then nodded at Emma. The two women drew closer together, and Lauren felt uneasy about those two bent heads. They were unpleasantly conspiratorial and their manner didn’t bode well for her.
She gave Rory a rather uneasy smile. “It would seem that Lady Maxby and Lady Fitzsimmons are old friends,” she said.
“Yes, they’ve been acquainted for several years, or so I’ve recently discovered,” he replied. “Until my return here I had no idea they’d even met. Isabel has family in Dublin, and she met Emma when visiting them. They hit it off, as you can see.”
“Yes. Can Lady Maxby shed any light upon Alex’s conviction that he’s seen Lady Fitzsimmons somewhere before?” Lauren asked, watching Emma walk arm in arm with Isabel, leaving a rather put-out Fitz to once again offer his services to Mary, who accepted gladly.
“None at all.”
They began to move with everyone else toward the castle, but just before going inside, Rory hesitated for a moment and Lauren was obliged to linger as well. He faced her. “I fear my duties as host will claim my full attention for the moment, Miss Maitland, but I trust we will have opportunity to speak again properly after dinner this evening.”
She gave him a hesitant smile. “Lord Glenvane, there really isn’t any need to feel obliged to—
“I’m not speaking out of a sense of obligation, Miss Maitland, but rather because I have enjoyed speaking to you today, and wish to do so again.” He smiled.
It was if they were alone in the world. Everything else faded into infinity as Lauren was lost beyond all redemption. She could no longer protect her heart from this storming of its defenses. She was deeply and irrevocably in love with the Earl of Glenvane.
Chapter 7
There was still another half an hour to go before it was time to go down to the hall, where everyone was to gather before dinner, but Lauren had been ready for some time and had become a little impatient. She stood by the window in a fuchsia taffeta gown, watching the evening sunlight dancing upon the loch and wishing she hadn’t abandoned herself so completely to the intense attraction she felt toward Rory. But his parting words and warm glances that afternoon had left her trembling with anticipation about what the evening might bring.
She toyed with her little fan, hoping that she’d chosen the right gown to wear. Fuchsia suited her very well, for it seemed to bring out the silvery lights in her hair, and she knew that her diamond earrings were perfect with it. Peggy had pinned her long tresses up into an elaborate Grecian knot that was finished with a glittering diamond-studded comb. A white silk and lace shawl was draped lightly over her white-gloved arms, and there were fuchsia satin slippers on her feet. She was restless and the minutes seeming to be dragging by. Suddenly she could bear it no more, and decided to go down early. If there were no one else there, she could pass the time by examining the hall itself, for there was much to see.
But before she reached the door it opened, and Isabel came in unannounced. She wore a purple lace gown over a matching satin slip, and she brought with her the fragrance of violets. Her blue eyes shone as she closed the door behind her and leaned back against it.
“It is time to lay our cards upon the table, Miss Maitland,” she said.
Lauren faced her. “Isn’t it customary to knock before entering?” she enquired coldly.
“I don’t require your permission for anything, my dear,” Isabel murmured, straightening and coming a little closer. “I believe you may be laboring under a misapprehension where Lord Glenvane is concerned, and I wish to spare you any consequent humiliation. He’s mine, and will remain so, no matter how much you may wish to the contrary.”
“I don’t have to listen to you, Lady Maxby, and I would prefer it if you left immediately!” Lauren replied sharply.
“I’m telling you this for your own good, Miss Maitland. You mean nothing to Rory, and you would do well to remember that. He was mine before you came on the scene, and he will still be mine long after you’ve gone. If you have any thought of maybe becoming the next Lady Glenvane, let me advise you that nothing could be less likely.”
“Please leave.”
“As you wish, but don’t complain that you weren’t warned. I fight for what is mine, my dear, and you will be severely bruised if you presume to encroach upon this particular preserve. Stay away from Rory, or you will rue it.” Turning on her heel, Isabel opened the door and left. The door remained open behind her, so that the sound of her departing footsteps could be heard dying away into silence.
For a long moment Lauren remained where she was. Her pulse had begun to race from the moment of Isabel’s arrival. Cards on the table? Oh, yes, they certainly were, but if Rory was so completely Isabel’s property, why then did there appear to be friction between them? And why had he made such a point of declining her company for the boating party? It might have been, as Lauren had wondered, because he wished to make his mistress jealous. But on the other hand it could have been because Isabel’s hold upon him wasn’t as strong as she’d like. Whatever it was, no doubt more would become clear in the hours ahead.
Lauren looked cautiously out into the passage, fearing that Isabel might yet return, but there was no sign of anyone and so she left the room to go down to the hall. The castle was very quiet as she made her way in the direction of the grand staircase. She passed the music room and went along the picture gallery, but just as the gallery and staircase came into view ahead, she heard the voices of Rory and Jamie emanating from an open doorway on her left. She would have walked on, but then she heard her name mentioned, and instinctively she paused. The following few minutes were to prove unpleasantly enlightening.
It was Jamie who said her name. “I’m reliably informed that your Miss Maitland has a fortune—the Ashworth fortune, to be precise.”
“You are informed correctly, but she isn’t my Miss Maitland,” Rory replied.
“Are you sure about that?”
“Quite sure. Why do you ask?”
“Because your attentions to her today were rather marked.”
“I was merely being a good host.”
“Indeed? Well, I’m afraid I thought you were smitten. In fact I’ve begun to wonder if Glenvane is about to acquire a second chatelaine from the other side of the Atlantic.”
There was a long silence before Rory replied. “That is not so.”
“She isn’t of interest to you?”
“No.”
The single word cut into Lauren, and she leaned back against the wall next to the door with her eyes
closed. What a fool she’d been to entertain any hope that he might return her feelings!
Jamie continued. ‘Then you will not object if I pursue her?”
Lauren’s eyes flew open again.
“Pursue her?” Rory repeated.
“Well, pursue her fortune, actually, but since it and the lady are inextricably combined…” Jamie’s voice ended on an almost visible shrug.
Rory drew a long breath. “I take it this is your response to my refusal to bail you out again?”
“The duns are at my door, Rory, and if you won’t come across with the necessary funds, then I have to think of something else.”
“I’ve supported you far too much in the past, Jamie, but still you’ve indulged your misguided passion for the green baize. How long is it going to be before you realize that the odds are seldom in your favor?”
“Those who don’t gamble don’t understand,” Jamie replied.
“And those who do gamble are amazingly dense,” Rory responded sharply. “Do you think yourself clever for plunging in over your fool head? If the duns are clamoring for your blood, you only have yourself to blame.”
Jamie sighed. “That point has already been established. Oh, damn it all, Rory, all I’m asking is that you help me just this once more.”
“That sounds all too familiar, Jamie, and I warned you last time that I wouldn’t come across again. I meant it.”
“Then I must needs find myself a wealthy wife.”
“And you think the unfortunate Miss Maitland fits the bill?”
“She’s most conveniently to hand. Look, Rory, of what consequence is it to you if I pursue her or not? You’ve already insisted that she isn’t of interest to you, so I cannot see—”
“Then pursue her if you must,” Rory interrupted, with an edge in his voice.
Lauren blinked back tears. How wrong she’d been where he was concerned! Far from regarding her with warmth, he appeared to hold her in virtual contempt. She should have trusted her head, not her heart. Isabel had warned her she would be humiliated; that humiliation had come with painful speed.
Jamie was speaking again. “You have no reservations at all?”
“Should I have?”
“I don’t know. Look, Rory, you may not have intended to appear as interested in her as you did earlier today, but I wasn’t the only one to misinterpret. Isabel wasn’t exactly amused, as I think you already know.”
Rory gave a slight laugh. “Isabel has, as usual, made her feelings forcibly known.”
“Have you managed to reassure her?”
“Only one thing would really reassure Isabel, Jamie, and that is marriage, but I’m afraid it’s as the old saying goes—I’m once bitten, twice shy. My experience with Fleur was sufficient for several lifetimes, and Isabel has always known exactly how I feel.”
“Has she?”
“Yes, Jamie, she has. I’ve never deceived her on that score.”
“So she remains the mistress, never to be the blushing bride?”
“At least she and I have been free to do as we please, which is more than can be said of you and your ladylove,” Rory replied quietly.
Jamie was startled. “I beg your pardon?”
“Oh, come now, little brother, don’t play the innocent with me. I know you are conducting a liaison with someone else’s wife. I don’t know who she is, nor do I wish to. I only know that it is so.”
“How did you find out?”
“It didn’t take a genius to recognize the signs.”
“And you don’t approve.”
“Did you honestly imagine I would?” Rory’s tone was acid. “Jamie, I have been obliged to play the part of the deceived husband, and I promise you it’s a humiliating and painful experience, so you may be certain that I disapprove entirely of your liaison.”
“Do you expect me to abandon it?”
“I would like you to, but I doubt if my wishes would make any difference in this instance.”
“I love her,” Jamie said simply.
“And she promised to love, honor, and obey her husband,” Rory replied sharply.
“But I am free to marry, if I choose,” Jamie pointed out, neatly returning the conversation to the matter of acquiring a wife with a fortune. “Look, Rory, I’m set upon pursuing Miss Maitland, but I’ve barely spoken two words to her since she arrived. You, on the other hand, appear to have a considerable rapport with her, and with your help I could—”
“I’m not a damned procurer!”
“No, you’re my brother, and since you’ve declined to assist with the contents of your fat purse, the least you can do is assist me in the acquisition of Miss Maitland and her fortune.”
“You seem to take it for granted that the lady is there for the winning.”
“I have faith in my talents in the love stakes.”
“Oh, vanity, thy name is James Ardmore,” Rory murmured dryly.
“Will you help me?” Jamie asked again, a little impatiently this time. “You could start tonight, by seeing to it that I am the one who escorts her in to dinner, and maybe you can arrange it so that she and I sit next to each other at the table?”
“I’m not about to scurry around at the eleventh hour changing name cards. As to escorting her in to dinner—yes, I’ll see to it if I can.”
Jamie’s satisfaction was qualified. “I trust you’ll be all that’s convincing?”
“I have as much faith in my thespian talents as you do in your amorous abilities. I promise you that the lady will not suspect anything untoward.”
“Let’s seal it with a dram of the mountain dew.” Jamie crossed the room and there was the chink of a decanter against glasses. Then he returned to Rory. “Shall we drink to the Ashworth fortune?”
“As you wish.”
“Very well. The Ashworth fortune.”
“The Ashworth fortune.”
The glasses chinked together, and with that Lauren gathered her skirts to hurry on toward the staircase. There she halted, so overcome with mortification that she had to try to recover her poise before going down to the hall, where some of her fellow guests had already begun to gather. She placed her shaking hands upon the gallery balustrade as she struggled to recover from the shock of what she’d overheard. Oh, how exultant Isabel would be if she knew! How smug and triumphant.
Wretchedness washed over Lauren and tears shone in her eyes, but then the wretchedness began to give way to seething rage. How dared Rory and his brother discuss her like that! How dared they presume to think they could lightly marry her off to settle gambling debts! The light of battle replaced the shimmer of tears in her eyes and she tossed a mutinous glance back along the gallery toward the open doorway.
So they intended to secure her, did they? And Rory was so confident in his thespian skills, and her gullibility, that he imagined his odious spendthrift brother would soon be her husband! Well, she would see about that! Lord Glenvane was about to find that the Ashworth fortune wasn’t so easily brought into line—indeed, he was going to find it uncommonly difficult. She intended to thwart him at every turn and be ready for each move he made, commencing with the business of going in to dinner. Go with Jamie? She’d die first! As for cold-hearted Rory himself—well, she would make him wish he’d never been born. The lord of Glenvane Castle had bitten off more than he could chew in Miss Lauren Maitland, and if the War of Independence had to be fought over all over again, then so be it. The outcome was going to be the same as before as well, with victory going to America!
She took a deep breath. She must be cool, calm, and collected, for they mustn’t guess that she’d discovered what was planned for her. She looked down into the great hall. From where she stood she could see into the adjoining dining chamber. Several footmen were putting the finishing touches to the magnificently decorated table. Silver cutlery shone, epergnes gleamed, and crystal glasses sparkled. There were crisp white napkins, little bowls of heather and white roses, and sumptuous porcelain, all laid out to perfectio
n before the array of gilded red-velvet chairs. But her eyes went right to the little cards which denoted the guests’ places. It had occurred to Jamie to alter those cards, but Rory had declined to take such action at what he called the eleventh hour. Well, she didn’t think it was too late; indeed, she thought it was a capital and very timely notion! What would happen if he suddenly found “the Ashworth fortune”, so sought after by his despicable sibling, seated at his own elbow throughout the meal? It might be amusing to find out! It might also be amusing to perplex dear Isabel by making her wonder if Rory was still intent upon showing favor to the American interloper. Yes, indeed. And serve them all right!
Gathering her skirts again, she began to descend the staircase. At the bottom she paused, but no one appeared to have particularly noticed her, not even Hester and Alex, who were on a sofa near the main entrance. She made her way carefully around the edge of the floor to the entrance of the dining chamber.
It was very like the great hall, with the same half-paneled walls and hammerbeam roof, but the upper walls were hung with tartan-patterned silk in the Ardmore colors, and were also adorned with several magnificent tapestries denoting Jacobite scenes involving Bonnie Prince Charlie. Evening sunlight streamed in through arched French windows facing over the terrace and gardens. It was all very lovely, but Lauren’s mind was upon other things as she went in and began to walk down the table, inspecting all the cards as she did so.
She wasn’t the only guest intent upon rearranging certain seating arrangements, for two other ladies were going surreptitiously about the same thing. The footmen paid them no heed, either because they weren’t aware of what was going on, or because they chose not to see. Lauren took great care not to appear particularly secretive, and as luck would have it she’d chosen the side of the table where her own placecard lay about halfway along. Under the pretext of leaning across to examine a particularly pretty bowl of heather and rosebuds, she contrived to scoop the card into the palm of her hand, and then walked on.