Questions for a Highlander

by Angeline Fortin

  The new Earl of Haddington shook his head at the irony and collapsed into a deep window seat, staring thoughtfully out the window. “The luck is wi’ the MacKintosh clan, to be sure, but the Merrills have no such good fortune. I’m afraid there is no way for me to recover this, old chap, no way at all.”

  Now Francis gave in to the impulse to put a comforting hand on his old friend’s shoulder as he sank onto the bench as well, for a solution had just been realized. “Perhaps you are overlooking the most obvious way to gain a quick fortune, my friend, though you speak of it yourself.”

  “Aye, and what would that be?”

  “There is a way to do it. Aye, my brothers Colin and Sean are doing it. Richard did it, albeit unintentionally and even I have reaped one benefit from this wretched state. You need wealth…” Francis paused and nodded in grim satisfaction. “Gain it in truly simple fashion. Marry into it.”

  Jack’s jaw sagged briefly before he snapped it shut.

  Chapter 2

  “Marry! Och, MacKintosh, when you yerself have been vehemently outspoken against the institution?” That was such an understatement that Jack lost his train of thought for several moments. Aye, Francis MacKintosh hated marriage and women, with good reason. He had been forced – or the closest Alec MacKintosh had ever come to forcing – to marry Vanessa Fane, daughter of the mighty Earl of Westmoreland. No good had ever come of it. The lass had given birth to a daughter five months after the wedding and all knew it could not possibly have been Francis’.

  After that, things had gone from bad to worse in their marriage. The Fane lass disdained her young husband but loved men in general and had worked her way from lord to coachman on the MacKintosh estates. She made no attempt to hide her affairs, boldly pursuing even Richard and Vincent, another brother, though with no success.

  It had Jack considering then that she and Oona would probably make excellent friends.

  At least MacKintosh was rid of Vanessa now. He had managed, after years of Parliamentary red tape, to be granted a divorce just four years earlier, after a dozen years of the bitch’s perfidy. She still came by occasionally for money that Francis was glad to give her and see her gone. After all that, he would recommend marriage to him?

  Jack voiced that thought aloud.

  Francis corrected him immediately. “I said marry, Merrill, not enjoy it, revel in it or take it too seriously. That will only bring you misery.” His voice was bitter. “But you could make it work to your benefit. Go to London or Edinburgh for the Season, pick yourself out some sweet, innocent heiress and wed her! Don’t get involved with her. Hell, you don’t even have to like her! Wed her and make yourself a wealthy man.”

  “Take her money and run, eh?”

  “That would be my recommendation.”

  “The idea does have some merit,” Jack conceded after a moment’s reflection.

  “Stay in my townhouse in London, if you like,” Francis offered, baiting the hook some more. “Richard was there a couple of months ago so I assume it’s still in good repair. I have the one in Edinburgh as well if you haven’t any luck in London.”

  “That’s kind of you, old chap,” Jack responded vaguely, the wheels already beginning to spin in his mind. Francis could almost see the plan fall into place in Jack’s mind. Merrill spoke again. “Now, if you’ll just come wi’ me to help find the right lass. You can help me ferret out the good ones and I can accomplish my goal that much quicker. Aye, you can be an advisor, of sorts.”

  Francis shuddered at the thought of returning to town. “I think not, my friend. The scandal from the divorce is still strong and couldn’t do more than hurt your chances. But when you have a few prospects let me know and perhaps then I can be persuaded to assist you. Or, if you like, ask Abygail to help you.”

  “Ask my sister to help me find a wife? Thank you, nay. She has too many romantic notions. And watching her and your brother together is enough to turn any man’s stomach.” Jack laughed heartily for the first time and Francis was glad to hear the sound. “It was bad enough before they wed but, after five years, you’d think they might stop ogling each other!”

  Francis chuckled his agreement. “Aye, it is a hard sight to bear! Well, at least come and greet them then.”

  “They’re here?”

  “Aye,” Francis told him. “Accompanied me this far on their way back to England. They’re returning for Abby’s laying-in. She wants to be near her grandmother for the birth and visit her friend, the countess of something-or-other.”

  Though Jack was pleased at the promise of seeing his angelic sister again, he was did not like the idea of her traveling so far. His intense frown showed his displeasure. “She shouldn’t be moving about so, in her condition.”

  “You’ll have to take that up with her,” Francis shrugged, not wanting to take a side in a sibling disagreement; he had enough of those on his own. “Will you join us?”

  “I’ll be wi’ you shortly,” Jack waved him on, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “I need to take another moment to contemplate the imminent loss of my freedom.”

  “How is he doing, Francis?” Abygail Merrill MacKintosh asked as soon as her brother-in-law appeared at the doorway of the dark family parlor, where she and her husband waited. The winter sun broke hazily through the windows, doing little to light the room but reflecting off her pale blond head and throwing a Madonna-like halo about the petite woman, who sat huddled in the only wooden chair available, with her cloak wrapped tightly about her against the chill.

  Francis leaned a shoulder against the fireplace mantle. “His spirits were low, but I believe I came up with an excellent solution to his problems.”

  “Yes, and what is that?” Abygail asked, curious and anxious for good news for her brother. She was very aware of how bad things were for the earldom at the time of their father’s death and assumed Cullen had done little to repair the damage. But when Francis remained silent, shifting uncomfortably, Abby eyed her brother-in-law suspiciously.

  One thing Francis suddenly knew was that he did not want to be the one to tell Abby the plan. Despite her angelic beauty, she had a devil’s temper and could reduce an eloquent man to a stammering fool with a single stare. He’d seen her do it many times, the first when she was but knee-high on him. He felt his own color start to grow and turned away clearing his throat. “He’s going to…hmmm-a-gitch-miff,” he mumbled into his high collar.

  “What was that, brother?” Richard asked innocently with raised brows, knowing it had to be something very interesting if Francis wouldn’t speak aloud.

  Francis glared at his brother and straightened his shoulders, ready to take his scolding, and boldly announced, “Your brother is going to Edinburgh – or London, if necessary – to find himself a nice, rich wife.”

  Abygail gasped in surprise and leveled him a look that cowed lesser men. Francis did not squirm, but he was mightily tempted. “Francis MacKintosh! Did you put such a notion into his head? I am surprised at you! How could you be so callous? ’Tis bad enough you’d suggest the idea, but can you imagine the life of the poor lass he chooses? Come, you know how he is with women!” She shook her head and tsked at his apparent failure of reason. “He treats them like little dogs. Pats them on the head and sends them on their way when he is done with them.”

  “He has to do something, lass. The small fortune he has made on his own is nearly gone…lost to paying the earldom’s creditors! Maybe soon his freedom will be lost as well, if he lands in debtors’ prison,” Francis explained feeling the need to justify the idea. His explanation took some of the woman’s wind from her.

  Abby sighed. There was no arguing that point. “But still, Jack in search of a wife? It’s hard to believe.”

  “It’s hard for me, too,” Haddington agreed heartily, as he entered just overhearing this last. “But we all do as we must. Now I just need to figure out how to meet some eligible lasses in London.”

  “I’m sure they’ll line up for a marriage-minded earl,” Abby m
uttered acerbically under her breath.

  “I don’t need them to line up, I need them to fall to their knees,” Jack grinned. “Proposing to me!”

  The men all laughed as Abby scowled at them.

  “How can you be so heartless?” She glowered at the pair of MacKintosh men. “It’s bad enough to even come up with such a plan, but have you no sympathy for the poor woman he would choose? He’ll treat her terribly! You know how he is!”

  Francis merely shrugged now that Abby was outnumbered. “So Jack goes to London and finds a rich wife, and his problems are solved. Either she’ll make his life hell or they’ll end up living peaceably…away from each other. End of problem for him and her.”

  “Perhaps Jack will fall in love,” Abby argued, though all three men guffawed at the very idea. “It might happen!” she claimed, causing them to burst into even greater merriment.

  While the laughter died down, Richard poured a round of brandy for the men and eventually suggested, “If you don’t find a wife in London, you should make a go for Abby’s friend, the Countess of Shaftesbury.”

  “Richard!” Abby protested, slapping her husband on the back of the head. “I hardly think–”

  “What’s this now?” Jack leapt in, cutting her off. “You have a prospect for me already?”

  “No!”

  “Aye.”

  Richard and Abby spoke at the same time.

  Abby stared her husband down. “No, Richard, she is only recently widowed.”

  “A rich widow, you say?” Haddington pondered, stroking his chin. A widow would not be a bad idea, he thought. She might not have as many expectations from marriage as a young lass straight from the schoolroom.

  Abby stood, hauling her immense belly up in front of her. “I’ve need of the conveniences, but don’t even get these thoughts into your head, Jack Merrill. The countess is my friend.” With a glare at her husband, Abby left the room.

  Jack waited until her footsteps faded away before turning to Richard. “So, tell me now about the widow…a countess?”

  Richard glanced warily down the hall. “You might be better to wait until you’ve seen the London lasses, Jack. Abby is planning to try to talk the countess into coming to Edinburgh to arrange the engagement ball and wedding of Sean and Colin to the Teynham lasses, since there’s no one else to do it while she’s laid up. If the countess decides to come up, she’ll be living in our Edinburgh townhouse by the end of the month for you to court. But try elsewhere first or Abby will have your head.”

  Jack shuddered at the thought of getting on his sister’s bad side. “But she’s a rich widow? How rich?”

  Richard thought of the countess and of her father. “Beyond rich.”

  Jack slapped Francis on the back. “Old chap, that sounds like the lass for me.”

  Later that night, Abby lay next to her big husband with her cheek against his chest, her pale blond hair cascading over them both. Raising her head, she looked down at him in disbelief. “You told him. After I specifically asked you not to? Richard MacKintosh, I have a good mind to get out of this bed and never come back.”

  “As if you could, without some help,” he teased, rubbing her big belly.

  “You have got to know Jack would be the absolute worst thing that could happen to Eve, don’t you?”

  “By God, Abby, he’s your own brother! Surely you don’t have anything against him?” “Aye, he’s my brother and I love him dearly, but…”

  “But what?”

  “Well, it’s just that Jack can be a wee bit cold when it comes to dealing with women.” Abby put it as tactfully as she could. “Oh, who am I fooling? The man hates women!”

  “I can assure you that Jack does not hate women.”

  “Ladies, then. He treats them horribly.”

  “And so?”

  “You’ve thrown out a lure he won’t be able to resist. Evelyn is an extremely gorgeous woman. He’s always been on the prowl for a new mistress. Now he’s looking for a wife as well! One look at her and he’s going to think he’s died and gone to heaven! I don’t know if I’d like him toying with my friend like that. Now I’ll have to warn her about him.” Men! They always bandied together whenever faced with a reasonable woman.

  “Speaking for my friend, I think you should give him the benefit of the doubt.” Richard reached down and cupped her bare bottom with both hands. “I think you’re more worried about his reputation than is merited. I think you should be more concerned with me.”

  Abby gave in for a moment and nuzzled his neck. She looked up at him once more. “But, Richard….”

  “I’m sure we can persuade him to keep his intentions honorable. Unlike mine at the moment.” He sucked lightly on her earlobe.

  “His motives are always so cold.” she managed to gasp.

  “And I am warm.”

  “But…”

  “Leave it alone, Abby. Some good may come of it. He may be able to bring her out of her shell.” He twisted her around until he spooned behind her. “Now, my wee Abby. How about showing some concern for the situation you have your husband in?”

  Abby grinned over her shoulder at her playful husband. “Concern? Like this?” She wiggled her bottom into his groin until he groaned.

  “Ahh, Abby, my Abby…Have I told you today that I love you?”

  “Aye, but you can tell me again. Better yet, show me.”

  “Can we still?”

  “You think we could resist? Come, my darling, show me how much you love me.”

  “As you wish, my lady. As you wish.”

  Chapter 3

  Habit is necessary; it is the habit of having habits,

  of turning a trail into a rut,

  that must be incessantly fought against if one is to remain alive.

  - Edith Wharton

  Kilberry Manor

  Newport, Rhode Island

  May 1892

  “Ahem…” Kitty Hayes turned in a daze to see her husband standing not far behind her, the silver-headed cane he held tapping lightly against the rocks.

  “Freddie.” With a regretful sigh, Kitty tucked her portfolio into her bag. “I didn’t know you had returned from your luncheon yet.”

  “Apparently, that is quite true, my dear.” Tap, tap, went the walking stick. “I don’t imagine you intended to have me arrive and find you dressed as some shop girl, perched on the edge of the cliff like a tragic heroine prepared to leap to her death.”

  “A bit dramatic, don’t you think?” Kitty gathered her bag and pencils and stood. The landscape of Kilberry Manor was the work of landscape architect Frederick Law Olmstead and included lawns that were long and sweeping but did meet abruptly with Cliff Walk, a narrow lane that was the only barrier between the cottages along the southern end of Ochre Point Road and the sharp drop to the ocean below. Kitty had been seated not on the edge of the cliff, as her husband implied, but on a nicely placed bench along the Cliff Walk that held astonishing views of the waters, especially at sunrise. She had brought her sketchbook out earlier to capture some of those views as best she could. Nor was her dress anything to be commented upon. Though not her finest afternoon gown, the simple white linen dress was appropriate for a warm afternoon without company.

  Kitty bit her tongue rather than correct him, however, lest she stoke his anger. But she knew it was too late for that when Hayes caught her upper arm tightly as she began to move away from him. Kitty winced slightly but turned to face him placidly so as not to upset him. He pulled her sketchbook from her bag and pondered the sketch for several long moments.

  “Reasonable efforts,” he commented, before handing the book back to her with a long, considering, evaluation of her person. Hayes tapped his walking stick against the rock again. “Katherine, you’ve wondered again and again why I rarely leave you to your own devices, but how can I, when I am gone but an afternoon and this is what I find? Dressed as you are, attracting the attention of any number of unsavory men? Are you trying to lure a lover? Is that what
you were trying to do?” He caught her chin tightly, tilting her face up. He locked his gaze with hers. “You are my wife, my dear. Mine! Remember that. Any more occurrences like this and there will be consequences. Are we understood?”

  Kitty looked up into his eyes, down at his cane, and knew he meant his words. She had felt his consequences many times before. “Yes, Freddie.”

  “Very well, then,” he nodded, and to her surprise let her go. “You’ve apparently been out here quite some time, my dear. Why don’t we go indoors?”

  Am I not even allowed to sit anymore? she thought bitterly, and sighed, not quite able to disguise the bitterness in her words. “I was merely strolling the Cliff Walk and drawing, Freddie. No one saw me. You needn’t have come out to fetch me in.”

  “My dear, you have been sitting out here for more than hour, giving, as I said, the appearance of some tragic heroine of a bad novella.” Hayes chuckled to himself as if he had just made a very witty observance. “The neighbors will begin to talk.”

  So, he had actually marked the time she had been here, she thought without surprise as her eyes swept the area around her. “We have no neighbors who are close enough and most have better things to do than watch me, Freddie. Even my parents are still in New York, as you well know.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Are you arguing with me, my dear?” He cleared his throat. “Let us return to our rooms, I believe we need to discuss this in depth.”

  Kitty could not help cringing as he reached for her arm. It was no use to argue. She had tried many times. Whatever had prompted her to try to reason with him? Years of being subject to Freddie’s petty jealousies and anger had taught her the futility and consequence of talking back when her husband was in a mood.