Adam's Call (The Victorian Highlanders Book 3)

by Ellie St. Clair

  “They went to find our luggage,” she responded. “We’d best hurry and find them, however, before they get too far ahead.”

  For a man who continued to claim a betrothal, Thompson certainly didn’t pay much mind to ensuring her safety, thought Adam, as he and Rachel wound their way through the crowd. He reached out and touched her fingers, clasping them for a moment as she turned her head and flashed a smile. He kept his eyes on her, not wavering to look about him to either side, and while he could still feel the anxiousness in the pit of his stomach, he managed to find his way to the baggage cart without incident.

  He helped the men gather the bags, and soon enough they were out on the street, calling for a hack.

  “We’ll go to our townhouse, McDougall, would that do for you?” Trenton asked him, to which Adam nodded. “I suppose you can stay in one of our extra rooms for a short time. Should our arrangement prove to be extended, we will find you a place to stay. Does that suit you?’

  “Aye, and I thank you,” said Adam, to which Trenton shrugged his shoulders. When neither Trenton nor Thompson made to help Rachel into the hackney, Adam held out a hand to lead her inside. Trenton eyed him warily but said nothing.

  The townhouse that Rachel shared with her father turned out to be a well-structured building, though Adam could see where repairs were required, where paint had faded and furniture needed replacing. There were few adornments on the walls of the foyer, the house seemingly fairly utilitarian with minimal touches to make it a home.

  “Would you like a tour?” Rachel asked, turning to him.

  “I’m sure Jackson can see to it,” said Trenton, nodding his head at the man who had opened the door to them. Adam assumed he was the butler.

  “Oh, but I don’t mind at all,” said Rachel with a smile. “Though if Jackson should like to accompany us, he is more than welcome.”

  “I’ll come with you,” said Thompson. “It wouldn’t be right for you to be alone with a man who is not your fiancé, now, would it?”

  “For heaven’s sake, Vincent,” she sighed. “But if you would like to come with me, so be it.”

  She turned with a huff, and Adam fixed a glower on the man as the two of them began to follow her. The rest of the house turned out to follow Adam’s initial impression until they came to the second-floor drawing room.

  “This,” said Rachel, “is my sitting area. Father hardly ever sets a foot inside so I can do with it as I please.”

  She opened the door to reveal a room that Adam would have recognized as hers, even had she not said a word of it. The room was bright, with paintings of landscapes adorning the brightly painted yellow-toned walls, flowers in vases on the side tables needing refreshing upon her return, and a comfortable-looking couch in a floral pattern sitting against one wall. There was a small piano in one corner, as well as an easel.

  “It’s lovely,” Adam murmured, “very much like you, Rachel.”

  She blushed while Thompson eyed him with a look of unveiled contempt. Adam could not understand why the man persisted in his pursuit of Rachel. Could he not see that, as much as her father was pushing the match, she did not want him?

  Rachel walked them down a long hallway, pointing out the bedrooms but not providing any looks inside. She finally stopped at the end of the long hallway.

  “I believe this is the room the housekeeper has prepared for you,” she said to Adam. “Your bags shall be brought up shortly, and we’ll be having supper in the dining room.”

  She opened the door, and Adam looked into a room that was sparsely furnished with a bedside table, water basin, and an old armoire that had seen better days. The furniture was mismatched, and Adam wondered how well Trenton’s business was doing, despite what he said of his success. Power was a growing business to be sure, though it was rather new, and Adam supposed that Trenton likely would have struggled over the years.

  Rachel gave him a bit of a hesitant smile as though she could read his thoughts. “I’m sorry it isn’t much,” she said. “I hope the bed should be comfortable enough. You are welcome to join us in the drawing room or parlor at any time, of course, so you shouldn’t have to spend much time—”

  “Rachel,” said Thompson with exasperation. “Your father is providing the man a place to stay, while also going above and beyond in business dealings with him. There is no need for you to apologize. He should be thanking you.”

  Thompson crossed his arms and looked over at Adam, who was leaning nonchalantly against the doorjamb.

  “The room will do just fine, Rachel,” he said, ignoring Thompson while looking at her and flashing a smile. “Thank you very much.”

  Without a glance at Thompson, he pushed himself off the wall and led the way back down the stairs to retrieve his belongings, already wondering how soon he — they — could leave.

  Rachel could not explain the awkward feeling that had settled in her gut as soon as they had arrived in London. Adam clearly was not comfortable in the city. She had seen the moment of panic at the train station and was relieved her father and Vincent hadn’t noticed it. It would have been something they could use against him, which she certainly didn’t want.

  Supper was a rather tense affair, with Vincent asking Adam all sorts of questions, and he responding with his typical one-word answers. He had seen to his own bags instead of allowing the sole footman of their household to carry them upstairs, which had caused her father some consternation. She was, however, beginning to grow tired of Vincent’s constant presence.

  Once Vincent had finally, blissfully left, Adam bid them goodnight and headed to his room to take a final look at his plans before their meeting at the power plant tomorrow. Left with her father, Rachel knew it was finally time to put one item to rest.

  “Father,” she said, taking a seat across from him in the drawing room in an old, cracked, leather wingback chair. “I must speak to you about Vincent.”

  “Ah yes, Vincent,” he said. “Are you finally ready to set a date to wed the man? The poor chap has been waiting for some time now!”

  “Father, I have told you before, and I would like to tell you for the final time, I am not marrying Vincent,” she said with some frustration. “I can hardly stand to speak to him, let alone marry him! I do not understand why you are pushing this on me, nor why Vincent continues his attempts to court me despite the fact I have been more than clear that I am not interested!”

  She pushed back a lock of hair that had fallen over her eyes during her impassioned speech, and looked up at her father, whose face was becoming more and more red as she spoke.

  “Rachel,” he said, drawing out each syllable of her name as if she were a simpleton. “Why are you fighting this? You and Vincent marrying will secure not only the business, but our family’s future as well. Andrews and I will not be able to run things forever, and Thompson will come on board as a partner soon. In the meantime, you will marry him, and then I can be assured you are looked after.”

  “I appreciate that, Father, I do, but why does it have to be Vincent? Why can I not find someone who loves me, and whom I love in return?” she asked earnestly.

  “Why… have you found that, daughter?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

  “I — I’m not sure, Father,” she said, not wanting to say anything about Adam until she had the business with Vincent squared away. “All I know is that I do not love Vincent, and for as much as he may say so, he does not love me in return. I would know if he did.”

  “Love is not the most important thing, Rachel,” her father said back to her. “What is important is that you will be looked after. Vincent has promised to take care of you.”

  “There is something more at play here,” she said, rising and looking at him suspiciously. “Something you are not telling me.”

  She stopped and leaned over the desk so that they were eye to eye. “Tell me now.”

  He looked up at her in surprise. She typically allowed him to have his way, or at the very least win the arguments with her. A
fter a time, he sighed and waved at her to sit back down.

  “Fine, then, Rachel, I will tell you if you must know, although why it is important to you, I am not sure. What you should care about is that you are being looked after. But, anyway. Thompson’s family, as I’m sure you know, come from some means. His father owns a shipping company, which has done quite well. However, Thompson has three older brothers, all of whom are already working with their father. The eldest does not seem to want Thompson working within the company, for whatever reason, but his father wants to make sure his son is well taken care of. He approached me with a proposal. Once Andrews and I have the power plant up and running, making a reasonable income, they will buy it from us for Thompson to manage, at a price that is more than it’s worth. We would then be able to move on to something else, or live at our leisure if we’d like. They simply had one stipulation.”

  “Which was…?”

  “Thompson had seen you before, of course, at the power plant as well as at various events. He rightly decided you are quite beautiful. And so, he determined that he wanted to have you as his wife. A deal was struck — they will buy the power plant, likely in about a year’s time, you will become Vincent’s wife, and we will all ensure you are well looked after for the rest of your days. It is more than I ever thought I would find for you, what with you being born out of wedlock and all.”

  He sat back, a smug, satisfied smile on his face, as if he were quite proud of himself for finding the answers to all of life’s quandaries. Rachel could only stare at him as she tried to comprehend what he had just told her.

  “You bartered my life for your company? For your own financial prosperity?” She sat rooted to her chair, taking in the man she realized she had never really known.

  “Not your life per se, but yes, I struck the best deal possible! It’s what I do, and Rachel, I do not see how you can be upset with this. I was only thinking of you.” His jowls shook as he spoke, and Rachel could feel the quiver of anxiety building inside her.

  “But Father… how could you not have told me of this?” she asked, trying to placate him and yet keep herself from agreeing to the situation. “Surely, I deserved to, at the very least, know what was to become of me?”

  “You knew what you needed to. Now I have been more than understanding toward you, Rachel. I allowed you to come on this trip to Scotland against my better judgment, and I turned out to be right! Do you not realize that everything works out so much for the better when you just listen to what your father says? For heaven’s sake, child, do you know, not many men would raise a daughter on their own, but I did everything for you — everything! Now the thanks I get is for you to question me thusly? I cannot stand for it.” He pushed himself back from the desk and stomped over to the door. “I have told you more than I should have and I cannot stand for any further insolence!”

  With that, he wrenched the door open, and was off; to where, she had no idea.

  Rachel sat, staring after him, turmoil in her heart. She had thought this would be a simple discussion.

  How wrong she had been.

  19

  Adam rose early the next morning. He had stayed up late trying to complete his design. It was nearly finished, and he was looking forward to speaking with Trenton’s business partner, Sullivan Andrews. Apparently, the man was the genius behind the business, the partner who understood the inner workings of the operation of the plant. He had been successful in other endeavors but had never had the interest or the knowledge in running the business operations, according to Rachel. He and Trenton had grown up with one another, and when Trenton began his businesses, he and Andrews determined they could mutually benefit from one another’s expertise. Hence, the partnership was born.

  Trenton was rather surly at the breakfast table, while Rachel kept her eyes downcast, not saying much at all. Adam wasn’t sure what it was about, but he could feel an underlying tension in the room. He tried to catch Rachel’s eye, but she would scarcely look at him. A slight uneasiness crept over him, but Adam tried to push the feeling aside, wondering if perhaps he was reading too much into this, and he returned to his room to gather his plans and his prototype.

  He and Trenton took a carriage to the plant. Adam tried to spend the ride focused on the plans on his lap and not so much on the many people, horses, and vehicles around him. Just get there, do your business, and leave, he told himself. His thoughts were interrupted by Trenton’s voice.

  “Tell me, McDougall, do you have a woman back home in the Highlands?”

  “I do not,” Adam replied, uncertain as to where this conversation was going.

  “I must tell you that I am glad you are here, but I must make one thing clear,” he said, his eyes taking on a steely glint. “I have seen the way you look at my daughter. She, however, is not for you. Do you understand me?”

  Adam was shocked at the man’s words, for he hadn’t realized Trenton knew anything of the understanding between the two of them. “Did Rachel say something to you?” he asked, though he was fairly certain she had wanted to wait some time before speaking with the man.

  “She didn’t have to,” he said. “She only told me she had no wish to marry Thompson any longer. She will not, however, have a choice. This is the way it is to be, and the sooner both you and my daughter realize that, the better.”

  Adam sat stunned for a moment, unsure of how to react or what to say next. “But Trenton, I—”

  Before he could say another word, the carriage drew to a halt and Trenton had flung open the door, walking down the steps to the stone building in front of them.

  “The plant,” he said simply, by way of explanation, though it was fairly clear to Adam where they were. Trenton led him inside as Adam’s thoughts whirled around his head. He realized saying anything now would only further turn Trenton against him. He would concentrate on business for the moment and resume their discussion of Rachel at a later time.

  It was fairly loud inside, as Trenton led him around the floor, which was filled with sweat-soaked men. They finally stopped at the back of the plant, where there sat a scarred oak desk, and behind it a man deep in concentration, his head bowed over plans spread out in front of him.

  “Andrews,” Trenton called out, causing the man to look up suddenly, startled out of his concentration. “This is Adam McDougall, the man I was telling you of. He’s brought with him plans for wind power that could be of great benefit. Spare us a minute? McDougall, this is Sullivan Andrews, my business partner.”

  The man stood, and Adam reached out to shake his hand. Where Trenton was short and wide, Andrews was tall and broad, clearly much more used to physical efforts than Trenton. His face seemed kindly, however, and the smile he gave Adam was genuine. It was somewhat a relief after his dealings with Trenton, though he would see what it was like actually working with Andrews.

  Trenton led them into a workroom, where he bid them both to sit.

  “Now, McDougall has a design that he’s nearly finished. I think we — of course, more so you, Sully — can help him complete it, and of course we have the means of distribution. Together, gentlemen, we can provide power to all the countryside — what do you think of that? Now, McDougall, do you think you can provide us those plans you were working on?”

  Somehow, it didn’t feel quite right to simply hand over his designs to the man, although wasn’t that why he had come all this way?

  “Oh come, now, how are we supposed to get anywhere if you keep them hidden away in your bags?”

  Adam sighed, realizing perhaps he did have to let go. He nodded, then pulled them out, spreading them out on the desk in front of him. He saw Andrews’ eyes light up as he looked at them, and the man gazed at the paper in front of him over his glasses, admiration coming over his face.

  “How intriguing,” he said, running his finger over some of Adam’s sketches. “Where did you think to create such a design?”

  “Have ye ever been to the Highlands, Mr. Andrews?” Adam asked and the man shook
his head.

  “No need for formalities. Call me Sullivan, everyone does. The answer is no, however. Unfortunately, I have not had the pleasure. I’m a slave to my work, you see, and she is an unyielding mistress.”

  “Well, the wind blows through the Highlands with the same frequency that you and I breathe. It’s a part of life. I had recently read an article in a journal about power plants, such as the one you have here yerself. I was racing through the wind one day and my mind began working, trying to determine how we could process this energy into something else, some kind of power source. You see where I’m stuck, however, do ye not?”

  “I do,” said Andrews, nodding his head, and as he began to generate ideas to help solve the problem, Trenton began retreating to the door. “I’ll leave you to it, then gentlemen. We will all convene soon!” And with that, he was out of the workroom, and Adam had an instant sense of how this business operated. He was somewhat glad to be rid of the man, however, and spent the remainder of the day entrenched in the workroom, deep in conference with Andrews. He was impressed with the man’s knowledge and the way his mind worked, and the time passed quickly. He nearly forgot all of his worries regarding his future with Rachel and the fact that her father — and Thompson — stood so firmly in their way.

  A slight breeze rustled her skirts as Rachel walked along Bond Street, her spirit lifted by the wonderful array of wares on display in the windows of all her favorite shops. The Highlands held so much wondrous beauty, and yet there was something about the thrill of a new bonnet or a beautiful dress that called to her. She met her friend, Eloise, and together they entered the shop of their favorite dressmaker.

  “Oh, but would you look at this fine silk,” Eloise said, her eyes lighting up as she trailed her fingers along a bolt of fabric hanging by the door. “What a beautiful gown this would make, would it not?”