Questions for a Highlander

by Angeline Fortin

  “Not even the smallest bit. I’m sorry.” Eve offered a conciliatory smile to soften the comment. Either Jack Merrill was unbelievably arrogant or he was entirely stupid. Evelyn did not know which, nor did she care to contemplate it. But true to his word, the Earl of Haddington began a wholehearted pursuit of the countess that embarrassed more than anything else. “I am in no danger of being wooed by your brother. I have no intention of ever sticking my head in the marital noose again.”

  However, comments Haddington had made regarding her being an ‘ice queen’ plagued her mind. Eve contemplated the image she knew she must present to those who did not know her well. Cold, unconcerned and uncaring. She tried, truly she did, to bring forth some of her old enthusiasm for life and for people. Could they not see she tried? Could they not see she was scared to let people near her? The thought of having someone else control her life terrified her. Eve sighed painfully.

  Mistaking Eve’s heartfelt sigh, Abby offered her a conciliator. “My brother will be arriving soon. I will have a talk with him and let him know he simply must leave you alone.”

  “Well, quite frankly, I would appreciate it if you could make him understand I have no wish or motivation to remarry,” Eve pleaded. “Frankly, he is driving me to the madhouse.”

  Abby laughed out loud. “He does have that way about him, does he not?”

  “I doubt he’ll give up too easily,” Richard warned.

  “I hope you’ll do your best to dissuade him!” Eve tilted her head in the direction of the hall, hearing voices rising up to her. “Speaking of the devil, I fear he approaches now. Perhaps I can help take the babies up to the nursery for their naps and avoid him in turn?”

  “Goose!” Abby chided, as she nodded to the waiting nurse to take the other baby up to the nursery.

  “Yes, yes, you may tease me all you wish later, but I must run before he gets here!” Eve led the way towards the door. “Please get some rest before the ball tonight. Promise?”

  Abby laughed and shooed her away. “I promise! Now run away little goose!”

  Chapter 10

  “Godfrey, my good man! Good morning!” Jack Merrill, Earl Haddington, handed his hat and gloves to the castle’s butler as he strode into the front hall. “Is my sister about?”

  “Good morning, my lord. Lady MacKintosh is in the rear drawing room with Lord MacKintosh this morning,” the butler informed the earl, while handing off the earl’s personal effects to a waiting footman.

  “Thanks, old man!” Jack took the stairs two at a time to the first floor, calling over his shoulder. “Don’t close the door just yet, Godfrey! I have a surprise right behind me. Send him up, won’t you?”

  “Abby,” he called when still several rooms away from his sister.

  “You needn’t shout, Jack, I’m in here.” Jack entered the drawing room to find his sister ensconced on a chaise with her husband.

  “Abs, my sweet! You’re back!” He reached down to lift her into his arms for a tender embrace, taking care not to manhandle her. “You look smashing! Where are my nieces? I am dying to see them.”

  “They are napping in the nursery,” Abby answered, hugging her brother in return. Rogue that he might be, Jack had always been the best of brothers to her and she loved him dearly. She was glad to see him looking so cheerful. The last time she had seen him had been just after he had inherited the bankrupt earldom from their older brother, Cullen. Jack had been shocked by the enormity of his new responsibility.

  “I will have to run up and see them, but first look who I managed to bring home for the ball this evening?” Jack gestured from Abby and Richard to the door almost as a magician reveals his best trick. “I give you Earl Glenrothes! The elder of the MacKintosh clan. The one and only!” A tall dark man strode into the room. “You didn’t think he’d come did you?” Jack added with a wink.

  A pleased smile lit Richard’s features and he leapt up for a back pounding hug with his eldest brother. “Francis! Good God, old boy! I didn’t think anything would get you to leave your hiding place and join us this week.”

  Abby offered a hand to the newcomer who took it with a squeeze of affection pressing a warm kiss to her fingers. “No honestly, I did not think my brother would succeed in luring you home, even if it is an engagement ball for two of your own brothers. Francis, how are you? However did Jack convince you to come?” she asked as her brother-in-law clasped her hand warmly between his own.

  “I simply told Francis I have narrowed my list down to one eligible lady I am considering for my wife, and asked him to come and give me his stamp of approval.” Jack poured himself a drink from the sideboard and pulled another chair over to join his friends and sister where they sat.

  Abby frowned. “That is awful, Jack. You know I think this idea is very calculated and cold, but I have decided I must ask you to stop now. The countess doesn’t even like you.”

  “Aye, I believe you lectured me on the subject ad nauseum via mail these several weeks past,” Jack commented examining his nails in detail. Truth was, he didn’t care much more for the countess than she seemed to care for him. She was a cold-hearted woman, more strait-laced than any he had met. But she was indecently wealthy and a widow old enough and experienced enough not to have great expectations of marriage. She was everything a desperate man could ask for. “Your reservations are duly noted, but, still, I give you my thanks for tossing the countess, the very rich countess, into my lap. I shall prevail in the end.”

  Abby reached out to slap her brother on the side of the head. “I sent Lady Shaftesbury here to help me, not to suffer from your cruel stratagem. She will not remarry, I promise you.”

  “You send one of the richest widows in the whole of Britain to stay in your house while I am looking for an heiress and you expect me to not pursue the opportunity?” Jack quirked an eyebrow in question, “I considered her a gift from you the moment I met her.”

  “Well, I guess it was fortuitous for her I did not offer our townhouse for you as well, otherwise she would never have had a moment’s rest from your pursuit,” she chided, torn between amusement at her brother’s single-mindedness and sympathy for her friend. “Truly, Jack, choose another.”

  Glenrothes chuckled in response to the siblings’ argument. “So the scheme is working as we planned? This is not just a ruse to remove me from my seclusion? You have found a wealthy woman to wed and save your estates? When do I look her over?”

  Abby tsked in disgust. “I can’t believe you are going to help him make such a calculated decision, Francis. This is a terrible reflection on your views of womankind.”

  Francis had much to say about womankind that certainly wasn’t kind at all. However, he had known Abby since she was a girl and felt that by this point she should be well aware of his reasons. Not wanting to offend her by itemizing them, Francis looked to Richard for assistance. “What say you, brother?”

  Stepping into the fray, the younger MacKintosh put his arm about his wife’s shoulder. “Now, Abby, my angel,” he used the nickname he had always called her by since she was a child, “some men have reason not to fully appreciate your gender.”

  She looked at her husband with narrowed eyes. “If that is the best you can do, Richard MacKintosh, you had best keep your thoughts to yourself.”

  She turned on her brother-in-law with the same look and Francis was tempted to back away defensively. Abygail might be a tiny, innocent looking girl, but she had the fierceness of the angriest bull. Angel, indeed! Avenging angel was more like it.

  “Aye, I know you, Francis. I know you like women not at all and perhaps you do have good reason for those sentiments…”

  “Perhaps?” both Francis and Richard gasped in unison.

  “All right,” Abby continued unabated, “you do have reason.” In fact, Francis had very good reason to dislike women. His wife had made his life miserable for a decade, plaguing him with embarrassment and humiliation. “However, Francis, that is not the case with my brother. Life with th
e ladies has been too easy for that rogue. He looks at them now as unwanted pets. He’s a cad. He would never treat a lady as she deserves.”

  “I say!” Jack exclaimed, taking offense. “I am right here, you know.”

  But Francis held his ground. “Not all ladies deserve to be treated well.”

  Abygail threw up her hands in exasperation. “Francis, when are you going to realize all ladies are not like Vanessa? She is the exception, not the rule.”

  Francis chuckled and stepped forward to place a hearty buss on her cheek. “No, my dear, you are the exception, and my brother doesn’t deserve you.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Richard chimed in, placing a gentle kiss on her other cheek.

  Abby blushed with pleasure but refused to be swayed from the topic. “But Vanessa…”

  “Enough about that damned woman,” Francis said holding up a hand. “I would have come anyway for the ball… I would have! But Jack needs a deciding vote here and I will give him one as I promised to. Then he’ll have his rich wife and his problems will be solved. Either she’ll make his life hell or they’ll end up living peaceably… away from one another. End of argument.”

  “Perhaps, then, Jack will fall in love,” she suggested.

  The men all chuckled. “I hardly think that is an option, my love,” her husband told her.

  “And I’m inclined to agree with Richard,” Francis added.

  “As am I,” Jack cast his vote as well.

  Abygail wrinkled her nose. Like her brother, the men of the MacKintosh clan were stubborn, obstinate men who were never wrong, at least in their own minds. Some day they would fall, and fall hard, and she prayed that she would be there to see it. “One day you’ll end up head over heels, Jack, and I will have the last laugh.”

  All three men laughed in clear disbelief and Francis slapped his friend on the back. Abby turned on him, also silencing her husband with a look. “I would not laugh so hard, Francis MacKintosh. Your day will come as well. I remember a time when not all women were so repulsive to you.”

  Francis’ mind slipped back years ago when a beautiful lass had filled his heart and mind, but shook away the feeling. Reality had shown him a much different tale. One filled with misery that had taken over his life. There was little happiness, laughter was rare and cynical. “Women have their uses, but the day I truly fall for a woman will be a cold day in hell,” Francis predicted grimly.

  “Then I will see you there.” Abby crossed her arms and nodded in satisfaction as she considered Francis and her brother. Aye, it would happen, she thought, with a bit of a shiver as a feeling of premonition overtook her. Things were definitely about to change.

  Chapter 11

  Charles Worth once said a lady spends most of her life either pregnant or in mourning and had endeavored to make a fashionable wardrobe available for both of these situations. The Countess of Shaftesbury shone in Worth’s latest creation proving that mourning wear could hold its own at the height of fashion. Never had Eve felt more sophisticated or elegant than she did as she stood for what seemed like hours in the reception line, welcoming the guests to the ball. She held out her hand and greeted all politely from under her carefully cultivated veneer.

  The Worth gown she had chosen was a black satin with cut black velvet flora motifs covering the bodice, and skirt detailed with rhinestones that flashed and winked as she moved. The bodice was cut in a low V ruche that led to the point at the waist. Chantilly lace over white ruched chiffon served as sleeves, fluttering about her arms above her long white gloves matching the black lace and feathers of her fan. She wore no jewelry other than a diamond choker recommended by Monsieur Bonhomme, as Worth was known. Modest in appearance so as not to overwhelm the glory of the gown, the choker consisted of 540 round and princess cut diamonds on silver filigree with several large teardrops dangling from the bottom edge. Threaded through her hair was a black ribbon, studded with tiny diamonds that caught the lights and gave her an almost ethereal look.

  As the designer had assured her, she was the perfect portrait of a wealthy widow – cool, poised and stunning. The looks she received – flirtatious men and envious ladies – told her the gown had presented as promised. If nothing else, its elegance served to project an image she was far from feeling.

  Finally leaving the receiving line, Eve embraced her role as hostess and moved through the crowds, assured that everyone was having the time of their lives. She stopped here and there along the way to chat politely with the guests, the brides and future grooms. Despite her sophisticated presentation, internally Eve felt that her nerves were stretched nearly to their breaking point. Edinburgh Society was much more casual than London’s and certainly more so than New York’s Knickerbocker set. Rather than simply raising a gloved hand to be kissed or shaken, the Roper lasses had accepted hugs and kisses from their well wishers in a manner completely inappropriate by London standards or even those of New York. When coming to Eve in the reception line, some guests had seemed uncertain how to greet her, this unknown American whose cool beauty seemed to alienate the ladies and awe the young men present.

  Moving farther into the room, her bustle and long train swished provocatively behind her, drawing the appreciative stares of many of the men in attendance. Looking for an escape from their tentative overtures and hesitant approaches, she joined Abby and her other long time friend, Moira MacKenzie, off to the side of the ballroom where Abby settled herself into one of the lounging chairs brought in for the older ladies in attendance.

  Abby was full of praise for the event and Moira, who’d never had the chance for a Season in Edinburgh or elsewhere, was excited to have her dance card already filled for the evening. They chatted politely for a while but when Moira went off for a dance and other local ladies approached to greet Abby, Eve stole the opportunity to escape the crush through the open doors of the ballroom leading out to the terrace. Standing just outside them, she flicked open her lace fan and gazed up at the starry sky, breathing in the fresh Highlands air. The rocky hills, cliffs and the sea reminded her a bit of Newport, Rhode Island where she had spent the summers of her youth.

  What would she do now? Eve wondered helplessly as she gazed out on the grounds and to the firth beyond where the moonlight twinkled off the calm waters. The past two months had been filled with purpose and promise for better days ahead. Whereas the past year had been spent in near solitude at Saint’s Haven, she had enjoyed the social events and activity of her time here in Edinburgh. Despite her cocoon of solitude, Eve was certain she didn’t want to hide away from the world again in Dorset. When the house party was over at the week’s end, she would have to think of some task to keep herself busy so as not to fall back into the decline of the past year.

  Waving her fan idly, she pondered the possibilities.

  What am I doing here? Glenrothes brushed away an imaginary piece of lint from the sleeve of his tailored jacket as he finally arrived at the ballroom door. He had skipped the engagement dinner, unable to face the nearly hundred guests invited for that event, and another hour of hesitation and prevarication since had brought him late to the ball as well.

  He moved to the table where men’s dancing gloves were laid out though he was sure he would not dance. After taking the pair the footman held out for him, he shouldered the archway leading to the ballroom, casually slapping the gloves against his palm careful not to meet anyone’s eye or encourage any of the guests to approach.

  The urge to turn away was strong. It had been four or five years since Francis had ventured out socially. Most of his time was spent in seclusion at Glen Cairn or one of his other estates, building the family fortunes and rebuilding the ravaged reputation that scandal had brought upon his family name. When he did spend time in Edinburgh or London it was for business purposes only. He had found over time that he preferred the solitude and absence of any society beyond his family and friends.

  It was easier, he thought, to be an earl outside the public eye. Coming out into Societ
y was an event unheard of for him. It had been years since he last attended a ball and he wondered again how he'd managed to get talked into coming here for this occasion. He’d already congratulated his brothers in private at their estate at Glen Cairn. They would have understood if he hadn’t come, but had indeed been thrilled by his appearance. This one night, he allowed, then he would return to Glen Cairn away from the guests remaining for the house party and from the speculation that usually surrounded his rare appearances.

  One night to celebrate his brothers’ good fortunes. Sean and Colin’s marriage to Baron Teynham’s daughters was a triumph, a sign that perhaps the scandal that had rocked his family was abating.

  Of course, there was Jack’s ‘prospect’ to look over as well. When he had suggested that his friend marry well and quickly to alleviate the debtors calling at his door, Francis had expected the man to choose a young heiress from Edinburgh or London, not a widow. A young lass might be molded at will into a pleasant companion or placed in the country without argument when one tired of her. A widow might be more set in her ways and a demanding tyrant when things did not follow that path. Indeed, Jack had already said the countess he had chosen was a frosty woman who did little else besides look down her nose at him.

  MacKintosh had reminded his friend that he would need an heir one day from the woman, but Jack had merely chuckled and admitted it would be no burden to bed the lady despite her cold demeanor. Apparently she was possessed of enough beauty to overcome even the frostiest reception to her bed. If that alone wasn’t enough, envisioning her bank account would be sufficient to get the job done.

  Francis was most curious to meet her.

  He surveyed the assembled crowd now wondering which lady was the one Jack had chosen so dispassionately and, as he did so, realized he recognized almost no one present beyond a couple of business associates from Edinburgh. Oh, his brothers were scattered here and there, Tam and Ian dancing with a pair of young debutantes, James flirting with a lovely widow, Dorian home from Cambridge looking as awkward as any young buck down from university, Connor teasing a smile from one of their cousins and there, his young sister Fiona dancing with a man who seemed to be holding her a tad too closely. Francis scowled fiercely in their direction wondering if he should step in. Ahh, there was Sean to lure her away from the danger.