The Lies of Lord John (Bonnie Brides Book 5)

by Fiona Monroe

  The interior of St. Andrew's church was vast and curiously oval in shape. Margaret had little inclination to look about her, however. The whole light-filled space seemed to swirl around the little group of people clustered near the altar.

  The gentleman she recognised as Sir Duncan Buccleuch, now attired in Highland dress, his wife, who was seated on the front pew, another lady, and the minister in his long clerical garb. And next to Sir Duncan, distinctly taller than he was, wearing nothing more distinctive than a smart morning suit, was Lord John Dunwoodie.

  Her footsteps faltered, and she clung to her uncle's arm in real need of physical support. She felt him glancing sideways at her, and she made a great internal effort to steady herself and look resolute. She would not have her uncle think that she was anything other than totally sure of her intent in marrying Lord John, even as her mind screamed at her in abject terror.

  Freedom, she repeated under her breath. I will be free.

  Her fingers gripped the sleeve of her uncle's coat as if he represented all the safety and security that she had ever known, instead of the oppression she was now escaping, and unfastened, numb and stiff and trembling, to be placed into the cool outstretched palm of a stranger.

  She could not look at his face. She could not make herself lift her eyes to look into the face of the man to whom she was pledging her life, her honour, her obedience, and her very body. The minister's words were a sonorous whirl about her, and her own responses seemed to come from very far away.

  Before she knew it, the minister was laying his stole across their joined hands and proclaiming them to be man and wife in the eyes of God, bound together for all eternity. Her fingers had not warmed in his. They still felt like ice, disconnected from herself.

  She was embraced and kissed by Lady Buccleuch as Sir Duncan shook Lord John's hand, and she looked about for her uncle. The last she saw of him was his black, frock-coated back disappearing out of the door of the church.

  She wanted to run. She wanted to take to her heels and flee after him, throw her arms around him, beg for his forgiveness, beg to be taken home. She would, at that moment, have submitted to as long and hard a hiding as her aunt thought would pay for all her folly and disobedience, to be allowed back into the bosom of the family she had so heedlessly abandoned.

  But it was too late. It was done; she was the wife of this man beside her, and she was no longer welcome at number seventeen Charlotte Square.

  "Well then," said her new husband amicably. "Let's go home!"

  It was all that Margaret longed to do but could never now do again.

  Chapter 13

  The sun shone brightly as ever over George Street as Margaret emerged from the church onto the same steps she had mounted not half an hour before as an unmarried lady. Now she was on the arm of her husband, not her uncle. She squinted against the strong light, looking for any sign of her uncle's carriage.

  He was gone, but Emmeline's gaudy hired coach was still there. As soon as she came onto the top step, the door of the carriage flew open and Emmeline jumped to the pavement. "Margaret!" she cried, running toward her. "Or indeed, Lady John!"

  She pronounced the title so archly that Margaret winced and instinctively drew back from the offered embrace.

  Sir Duncan tipped his hat in Emmeline's direction, but his wife took hold of his arm and very decidedly steered him away. Lady Buccleuch, herself, did not even look at Emmeline but turned her back on her decisively.

  "Thank you, madam," said Lord John, without looking at Mrs. Douglas, and hooking an arm around Margaret's waist, he propelled her by main force around and made her follow Sir Duncan and Lady Buccleuch. They were walking along George Street now, in the direction of St. Andrew's Square.

  Margaret looked back over her shoulder and saw Emmeline standing still on the pavement, her eager expression dying, resentment gathering around her mouth.

  "Come on," Lord John said in her ear as he pulled her along a few steps more.

  "I must speak to my friend." Margaret stopped and stood her ground. "She's been waiting for me."

  "There's a wedding breakfast waiting for us at Lady Buccleuch's house, and it would be bad form to be late."

  "Then I shall invite Mrs. Douglas."

  "No."

  "What?" Margaret pulled crossly away, or tried to.

  "No," he repeated, more insistently, and kept hold of her. "Come now, Margaret. You know how it is. Your so-called friend, Mrs. Douglas, knows how it is. Would your uncle and aunt invite such a woman as Mrs. Douglas to their house? Well, no more would Lady Buccleuch have her within her own walls. You can't be seen with her. For that matter, I don't want my wife seen with her. Come on."

  Mortified but knowing that he was right, Margaret went with him. "It is unfair."

  "What is?"

  "Will General Macintosh be excluded from company? I hardly think he will. Yet how is her offence any more heinous than his? His is the worse, indeed, because he has already sworn fidelity to a wife and he has children. Why are men allowed to do as they will?"

  "I did not know you had such advanced ideas," he said lightly.

  "I am an advocate for the just treatment of women," she said, stung by his mocking tone.

  "Indeed! Well, I am all for women receiving just treatment."

  Margaret decided that now was the time, if ever, to establish her independence. He had his arm firmly around her waist, a sensation which was not in itself at all unpleasant, and she had been passively complying with the restraint. Now, she took decisive hold of the gloved hand that was pressed to her stomach and prised it away. Then she slipped out from under his arm and ran back along the pavement to where Emmeline was still standing.

  She threw her arms around Emmeline's neck. "Dear Emmeline! I am so sorry."

  "Sorry? Oh, Margaret, there is no need to apologise. My dearest girl! I'm so happy to see you free at last!"

  "I cannot invite you to come with us now," Margaret said earnestly, rapidly. She was aware that the three others had stopped in their progress along the pavement and were watching her. Lord John had made no attempt to chase after her or drag her away from the polluting presence of Mrs. Douglas, but she could see out of the corner of her eye that he was frowning.

  "Oh, I know. Lady Buccleuch is so very respectable. My dear, I could tell you some things about her husband, but another time! Listen, soon you will be established in your own home, and I will visit you there."

  Margaret was unsure about that, but she smiled and pressed Emmeline's hands before turning back to join her new husband.

  Mrs. Douglas waved after her with a gay smile. Lord John frowned, tucked her hand under his arm, and said nothing all the way to his friend's house.

  Queen Street was at the north most extremity of the New Town, a long street of houses overlooking what had been farmlands stretching toward the Firth of Forth. From the top of the Castle in Old Town, one could see all the way across the grid-like construction of parallel streets to the water shimmering in the distance. At street level, there was a lot of activity, noise, and mess going on as formal gardens were being constructed for the residents of Queen Street.

  Sir Duncan's house was about halfway along the long, stucco-fronted terrace, identical to its neighbours and very much like Mrs. Hamilton's in George Street.

  "Here we are," said Sir Duncan, welcoming her across the threshold. "It's not quite Lochlannan Castle, but while in town, my home is your home, Lady John."

  She was going to have to get used to that, she thought with a sense of unreality. She was never, after all, to be Mrs. anybody, as she had expected all her life that she would be one day.

  "Only for the time being, Buccleuch," said Lord John, speaking at last. He removed his hat and handed it to the manservant. "We'll speak to the agent as soon as possible about taking an apartment of our own."

  "There's no hurry," said Lady Buccleuch graciously. "Let me echo my husband's good wishes, Lady John. You are very welcome to make your home here as
long as need be."

  "They'll want their privacy, my dear." Sir Duncan threw his hat and walking stick at the servant, who caught them both deftly. "Now, let's see about this breakfast. Weddings give me an appetite, especially so early in the day."

  Sir Duncan's house was furnished smartly and tastefully, in a more modern style than her uncle's house. It was filled with curiosities which, her hosts explained, had been brought back from a year-long tour of Europe which they had undertaken shortly after their own wedding. In the dining room, where a sumptuous wedding breakfast was spread out on the table, there was a set of prints from Spain and some vases from Greece.

  "I thought my wife would find it dull, stuck in an old castle in the Highlands all year round," said Sir Duncan, "so I took her off on the Grand Tour, and we came back with a whole carriage-full of junk."

  "Treasures," said Lady Buccleuch with a smile. "We came back with many lovely treasures to help furnish this house, which was sadly bare, and to add tasteful touches to Lochlannan Castle—"

  "Which was full of junk to begin with and needed no more."

  "And also with irreplaceable memories, of many wonderful places and people."

  "And an added person. We returned with that, too, don't forget."

  "I am scarcely likely to forget! Our son, Lady John, was born on a stormy night in an inn in the French alps. In fact, Sir Duncan, we acquired two additional people, for we had to bring home Emile with us. She was the nursemaid we found in the village," she added aside to Margaret, "and she is still with us."

  "And still speaks not a word of English," Sir Duncan said. "Although I believe young Wallace is growing fluent in French."

  Margaret looked between Sir Duncan and his wife and recalled what Emmeline had told her, that he was a libertine who had been redeemed by the love of an honest and virtuous wife. For all that Emmeline's tone had been somewhat mocking, she saw that it was true; there seemed to be a real understanding between husband and wife, true affection in their looks and their way of speaking together, and evidently, there was the sympathy that arose from shared experiences.

  "You should go travelling with your new wife, Dunwoodie," Sir Duncan said. "I recommend it for combating the difficulties of the married state and for the acquisition of ornaments and heirs."

  "My travelling days are over," Lord John said after a pause.

  Margaret had felt him looking at her, but she dared not raise her eyes from her plate. She had put a selection of buttery rolls, cold tongue, and bacon on her plate, but she had eaten none of it. Her stomach was filled with cold, rolling dread, and she was not even sure of what.

  "Have you travelled yourself, Lady John?" asked Lady Buccleuch politely.

  "No... my uncle never liked it, and I have never—I have always been with him." Suddenly, she found her eyes filling with tears, and there was nothing she could do to prevent them spilling first from one eye, then another. She felt horribly, terribly alone and exposed.

  "Perhaps you are not hungry," said Lady Buccleuch, getting up. "Let me show you to your room, and you can settle in and have something to eat later."

  Margaret would far rather have stayed at the table and remained inconspicuous, but she was very afraid that she could not contain her inexplicable burst of melancholy. Without looking at her new husband, she allowed her hostess to pull back her chair and lead her from the dining room.

  Lady Buccleuch took Margaret up to the second floor, and showed her into a bedroom at the front of the house. It was a fine, handsome room, with two windows overlooking the street and the nascent park across the road, and it had the dampish wood polish smell of a room where the furniture was well-dusted but the fire was not often lit.

  "I hope you will be comfortable here," said Lady Buccleuch. She looked nervous, Margaret thought. For all her affectation of graciousness, she was a girl of an age with or younger than herself.

  "Thank you, your ladyship," she said. She had managed to overcome the threatened tears. "You have been very kind."

  "It is no trouble at all. I am just so delighted that Lord John has married—I am glad that he took my advice."

  "It was by your advice that Lord John married me?"

  "Well," Lady Buccleuch looked distressed, as if she thought she ought not to have spoken. "not you in particular, I confess, but in general, I counselled him in favour of matrimony, as I thought it would make him happier. As I'm sure it will. Well, I shall leave you to settle in. If you need anything, please do just ring."

  Once she was gone, Margaret lay down on top of the counterpane of the bed, which smelled of pressed flowers, and tried to understand her own low mood. She had done it. She was free, an independent woman.

  That she did not feel in the least in command of her own life was probably to do with not being yet in her own home. She would feel differently, once she was no longer a guest in someone else's house, but in command of a household between her own four walls. Then, she could invite whomever she pleased to visit, including Emmeline if she so chose.

  In the meantime, she was mistress of this space at least. She was at peace and treated courteously, after all the long months of frustration and restraint and the last two dreadful weeks of coldness and resentment.

  So why did she feel so miserable and lonely?

  She had not slept much the night before. Apprehension and doubts about the morning's looming nuptials had kept her awake until the grandfather clock in the hall struck two and awakened her several times in the night after that. Her head felt fuzzy and ached, and almost as soon as she was left alone in the bedroom, a heaviness overcame her and she drifted into a sound sleep.

  She awoke in confusion, only when she felt herself rocking back and forth, and in bemusement—for several long seconds, not remembering where she was—she opened her eyes to see the face of Lord John leaning over her.

  He had been shaking her arm. Margaret struggled to come to her senses, aware even in her fogged state that she was alone, in a bedroom, with this strange man. He was in his shirt sleeves and waistcoat, and of course, he wore no hat. A heavy wave of his blond hair fell across his forehead, and she thought in a moment of distraction that it was just a little too long, as if he had not had it cut lately, but that this was not at all unbecoming.

  "Margaret," he said. "I shall call you Margaret, I think. Since I can no longer call you Miss Bell, and I can hardly go around calling you Lady John. It was my mother's name. You are not known by some other name—Meg or Maggie or suchlike?"

  "Certainly not," said Margaret, a little indignantly. Meg or Maggie sounded like a scullery maid.

  "You know, I have four sisters, and not one of them uses a diminutive. Not even the one inflicted with the name of Henrietta. I used to try calling her Hettie, but she spurned my efforts."

  "Four sisters," said Margaret with a stirring of interest. "I have neither brothers, nor sisters."

  "Four sisters, five brothers, including a twin."

  "A twin! Are you alike, sir?"

  "Not anymore. But in the strictest sense, yes. When we were boys, nobody could tell us apart. Nowadays, well—you would have to be a Venetian nobleman bent on vengeance to mistake my brother Gordon for me."

  "A Venetian? I do not understand."

  "To grow up with no brothers or sisters—I'm not sure whether it sounds like my idea of heaven or hell. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have one's parents' entire attention."

  "I could not tell you, sir. My parents died when I was very young."

  He rubbed the back of his neck. "That, indeed, was a misfortune. Look, I came to tell you that there is a land agent here. He's keen to show off his portfolio of properties. I thought you would appreciate being consulted about where you want to live."

  "Here! In the house, right now?" Margaret exclaimed.

  "I summoned him. I don't want to presume upon Buccleuch's hospitality any longer than absolutely necessary. Besides, you want your own home, I take it?"

  Since that had been the en
tire object of her marriage, Margaret nodded and smoothed down the gown that had become crumpled as she slept.

  "If we settle with the fellow today, we could move within days." He stepped back and courteously extended a hand to help her rise from the bed.

  His grasp was warm and firm. Margaret felt herself smiling, for what was surely the first time that day, as a sudden tingle of excitement flashed through her. When night came, she would truly be initiated into the married state. No wonder she felt disconnected and odd about it now. Once she passed that great threshold, she would be a woman and not a girl.

  The land agent was called Mr. Fraser, and he was a precise-looking middle-aged gentleman of a type well known to Margaret. Her uncle had many friends amongst the numerous legal profession of the city. Mr. Fraser had brought with him a portfolio of properties, which he unrolled on the dining table for their perusal.

  The wedding breakfast had been thoroughly cleared away, as if it had never been, Margaret noted. It was indicative of how long she had been asleep, but it also made her feel as if the whole wedding had been a dream and that she was now in this stranger's house, a guest of a guest, under bizarre false pretences. She had to keep glancing at the band of gold on her left hand to fix it in her mind that she was indeed a married woman.

  "We have a number of fine, very fine sets of apartments for rent—here is one in Princes Street which has not yet been inhabited—and here is one in Charlotte Square, the owners are abroad for the foreseeable future—"

  "Not Charlotte Square," said Margaret firmly.

  "As you wish, my lady." The solicitor swept the documents pertaining to the apartments in Charlotte Square away deftly.

  "It is the same three or four streets over and over," said Lord John.

  "Indeed, my lord, I was going to suggest something quite different. I have a selection, as I say, of very desirable and commodious apartments within the existing boundaries of the New Town, but I thought you might be interested in this scheme." With a new air of animation, he removed another sheaf of papers from his case, and spread them across the table.