The Lord's Highland Temptation

by Diane Gaston

  * * *

  Mairi found an inconspicuous corner of the ballroom in which to sit while she waited for the ball to end. Two or three gentlemen of her acquaintance asked her to dance, but she declined them all. She had no wish to be touched by any man. Except Lucas.

  Their dance, that breathtaking kiss, had lifted her to heights she had never dreamed possible, until her memory stole it all from her, bringing her back to the terror of the Englishman’s assault. She could not believe Lucas had convinced her to tell him what had happened to her, but she knew without a doubt that she could trust him with it. He had even tried to comfort her over it, saying it was not her fault and that no man would know she’d been ruined.

  She was not sure she could believe that, but it endeared him to her even more. Her heart bled for him when he spoke of feeling guilty for his brother’s death. Could he not see how nonsensical it would be to promise to keep someone alive in a war?

  The dancing continued and she watched the guests perform the figures, their patterns and symmetry pleasing to the eye as well as bringing pleasure to the dancers. The pleasant music filled Mairi’s ears as her thoughts drifted to Lucas.

  How could she make him stay? Was there any path to a future together? It all seemed so far-fetched, but he must have come from a family with wealth enough to purchase commissions for two sons. Surely his birth was respectable enough to make something possible between them, no matter what circumstances he had been reduced to since returning from Waterloo. But if he came from some wealth, why had he agreed to act as a servant? What could have happened to his family so that he’d had nothing to return home to? What had he been doing in Scotland?

  She watched her father emerge from the card room and stride across the ballroom to the door to the corridor. He looked upset. Had he lost? Mairi would be furious at him if he had lost. He should not have been playing cards in the first place.

  She also spied Hargreave across the room, talking to a gentleman she did not know. The man wore the red coat with gold braid of the Scots Greys. She wondered if her father had met him. If so, poor man, he’d be forced to recount the battle.

  The same battle in which Lucas’s brother had died. How painful it must have been for Lucas to be asked by Niven and their father to tell stories of that day, over and over.

  Hargreave and this Scots Grey circled around the dancers just as the music stopped. The lovely patterns broke into gentlemen and ladies eager for something to drink.

  One of the footmen circulating the room with trays of wine glasses approached her. ‘Wine, miss?’

  She smiled and shook her head. At that moment, Hargreave and his companion appeared before her.

  How could she rid herself of this man for good?

  ‘Miss Wallace, may I present Lieutenant Urquhart?’ Hargreave asked, looming above her.

  ‘How do you do, sir?’ She inclined her head to the gentleman who exchanged a quick glance with Hargreave. She looked from one to the other. There was more to this.

  ‘The lieutenant is a Scots Grey,’ Hargreave added.

  She turned politely to the gentleman. ‘My father will be pleased to meet you. He is very proud of the Scots Greys.’

  Hargreave had managed to trap her in her chair. She could not leave without causing a scene.

  ‘Urquhart is acquainted with someone you know,’ Hargreave said.

  She looked away from Hargreave and addressed Urquhart. ‘Are you, sir?’

  ‘You might wonder who,’ Hargreave persisted.

  She stared at Urquhart as if willing him to answer.

  Hargreave nudged the man to make him speak. ‘I knew him as Captain Johns-Ives, but I understand he goes by another name here.’

  Hargreave grinned. ‘He is your butler, Lucas!’

  Mairi felt the room spin. Lucas? She fought for composure. So Lucas was using a different name. That was not so bad, was it?

  ‘And there is more,’ Hargreave said gleefully. ‘Johns-Ives is the son of an English earl. Is that not a good joke? An earl’s son reduced to service.’

  ‘He was wealthy, too, I believe,’ Urquhart added. ‘He and his brother were well equipped.’

  She faced the man. ‘Did you speak with him here?’

  ‘I did,’ Urquhart admitted. ‘But he did not explain. All he asked was that I not tell anyone of it.’

  She gaped at him with disdain. ‘So you gave your word not to speak of this?’

  The man had the grace to look shamefaced.

  She averted her gaze from both of them, her emotions swirling inside her. Why had Lucas—Johns-Ives—or whoever he was not confided in her? Why hide this? Surely being the son of an earl was not something to hide.

  Hargreave snorted. ‘Can you imagine what scandal must be attached to his name if he is reduced to working as a mere servant? How low a man can fall? A veritable plummet.’

  Near her, the footman who’d offered her refreshment rattled the glasses on his tray.

  Was there something worse Lucas had done? All that kindness, that helpfulness, that comfort. Was that all hiding something truly dark in his past? Why else come to Scotland and keep his identity a secret?

  She did not want to believe it.

  Her throat tightened. ‘Have you told Papa this?’

  Hargreave’s expression turned serious. ‘Not yet. Your father and I had other business together.’

  Was that why her father had looked upset?

  Urquhart cleared his throat. ‘I—I must take my leave. Urgent matter to attend to...’ He bowed curtly and strode off.

  Hargreave put on one of his charming smiles. ‘What a surprise, is it not, Miss Wallace?’

  She felt sick. She wanted to run from the room and search for Lucas and confront him with his deception. Make him explain.

  The footman cleared away some empty glasses. Mairi supposed he’d heard the whole tale. Soon everyone would know and her father—their whole family—would be a laughing stock.

  * * *

  Hargreave grinned down at Miss Wallace. What a triumph, being able to tell her that her fancy English butler, the Waterloo hero, was the ruined son of an earl. Here the man fancied himself her younger sister’s protector and all the while he was engaging in deception.

  Hargreave would give anything to know what had sunk Johns-Ives so low he’d had no recourse but to flee to Scotland and become a butler.

  Let’s see if he acts all hoity-toity now.

  ‘What say you to this, Miss Wallace?’ he asked. ‘This must take you aback.’

  The chit merely glared up at him. ‘That was your intention, was it not, sir? I wonder you would propose marriage to me one day and the next strive to so purposefully unsettle me.’

  He felt his anger rouse. ‘I wonder you would speak so to me. I dare say you will regret it.’

  Wait until she learns what else I have planned for her.

  This was one triumphant night for him! His plans were unfolding even better than he’d expected.

  Her gaze did not falter. ‘Please step back. I wish to walk away from you.’

  Perhaps she had a bit of her younger sister’s spunk after all. That only made winning her into better sport.

  ‘I will meet with your father in the morning. Perhaps you will care to join us?’ He bowed, but stepped back and extended his hand with a flourish.

  She rose, tossing him one more glare, and swept past him. His laughter followed her.

  * * *

  Lucas watched for Mairi to appear in the hallway after the ball, but, to his dismay, Dunburn returned to his bedchamber first.

  The man looked ill. Each night he returned to the room full in his cups, but mostly jovial. This night his demeanour was quite different.

  ‘Are you unwell, Baron?’ Lucas asked him.

  ‘Never better,’ barked Dunburn, his tone angry. ‘I’d be
a deal better still if you would get me a bottle of whisky.’ He waved his hand dismissively. ‘And be quick about it.’

  Something was amiss. ‘What is wrong, Baron?’

  ‘Nothing!’ Dunburn snapped. ‘None of your business anyway. Damned sick of everyone wanting to know my business.’

  Obviously something had happened to turn his perennially cheerful mood so sour. Could Hargreave have disclosed Lucas’s true identity? Wouldn’t Dunburn simply say so, though? The man was downright defensive.

  ‘I’ll get your whisky.’ Lucas left the room.

  He went below stairs and found the butler, who gave him a bottle of whisky for Dunburn.

  * * *

  Mairi walked as quickly as she could to escape Hargreave’s presence. She needed to speak to Lucas. To ask him why he had not told her the truth.

  The story of his deception would undoubtedly spread throughout the house party. That Baron and Lady Dunburn couldn’t even tell the difference between an English earl’s son and a butler, they’d say. Mairi could imagine all the stories that would be spun to make them appear foolish.

  She wanted the real story.

  As she reached the hallway leading to her bedchamber, she glimpsed him at the other end, just entering the servants’ stairway. Good. She would await his return. She stood by the door to the stairway. It was all she could do to keep from pacing in front of it. Two servants came up the stairs and eyed her curiously. When the gossip started, she supposed they’d add how odd Miss Wallace was, loitering in the hallway for no good reason.

  She had a good reason. A man she’d trusted, a man she loved, had been deceiving her.

  * * *

  After about a quarter of an hour had passed, she heard more footsteps on the stairs. The door opened. It was Lucas carrying a whisky bottle.

  ‘Mairi!’ He looked surprised but pleased. ‘There is something I must—’

  She did not let him finish. ‘There is a man here who knows you by a different name.’

  He blanched. ‘That is what I—’

  She glared at him. ‘Your name is Johns-Ives and you are the son of an English earl. Not a servant.’

  ‘I never said I was a servant—’

  ‘You never wanted us to know!’ she accused. ‘Son of an earl! Why deceive us so? What did you do that you had to hide who you were?’

  He looked away.

  She waited for his answer.

  * * *

  Lucas turned away from her wounded, accusing eyes. This was precisely what he had not wanted to happen. How could he explain that he’d wished his life to be at an end, that he’d wished to be someone else—anyone but the man who let his brother die and then had taken everything that should have been his?

  He faced her again. ‘I never meant to deceive you. I never even meant to stay—’

  She interrupted him again. ‘Hargreave will waste no time spreading the story. About how the Wallaces were duped by the fallen son of an earl. My poor parents will be humiliated. I know these people. I know they will relish this piece of gossip.’

  ‘Hargreave.’ Lucas spat out the name. Just as he’d feared. ‘Did he tell your father, as well?’

  ‘He said not, but I suspect he will do so in the morning. Hargreave says they are to meet.’

  There was no use telling her father tonight, not foxed as he was. ‘I will tell him in the morning.’

  She looked hurt. ‘What happened to you? Why did you not tell me?’

  She thought him ruined in some way. The truth suddenly seemed more unbelievable.

  ‘Nothing happened. I am not fallen. I simply did not wish to be my father’s heir and I had no reason to think I would encounter anyone in Scotland who would know otherwise.’ Instead he had met two people who knew him. Findlay, whom he’d known he could trust, and Urquhart, who had proved he could not.

  ‘That is not an explanation, Lucas—my lord, I mean. Did your parents disown you?’

  ‘No.’ She still did not comprehend. They could not disown him, although he had no doubt they’d wished they could. He was the heir whether they wanted him to be or not. He would inherit everything that had been due his brother. Wishing him dead had not changed that fact.

  Although he might have granted them that wish, had it not been for her.

  She expelled a frustrated breath. ‘Then why give a false name?’

  ‘I did not want to be Lucas Johns-Ives,’ he responded. ‘I thought no harm could come of it. I wanted to be thought of as a person of no consequence.’

  ‘Why?’ she pressed. ‘The name Johns-Ives would have meant nothing to us.’

  But it meant something to him. He’d wanted to erase himself completely and rescuing her family had given him the opportunity. He’d been happy being John Lucas.

  She threw up her arms. ‘You are not going to explain, are you? You still hide yourself from me.’ Tears glistened in her eyes. ‘After all I have told you.’

  Before he could say another word, she spun around and almost ran down the hallway to her room. Lucas heard the voices of some other guests coming up the stairs, so he did not dare go after her.

  He walked to her father’s room instead and went back inside.

  Dunburn sat sullenly in a chair. He’d removed his coat and waistcoat and thrown them on the floor.

  ‘It’s about time.’ Dunburn waved his hand. ‘Pour me some whisky and be off with you! I’ll summon you when I need you.’

  Something else must have happened.

  Lucas thought he knew what. ‘Sir, you had better tell me what is the matter. Did you lose at cards tonight?’

  Dunburn rose from the chair and started shouting. ‘I do not have to tell you what I did or did not do! Leave me be! Leave me be!’ He was loud enough to be heard outside the room.

  In the man’s state he could rouse the whole hallway. Lucas could not pursue this now. How much had he lost?

  ‘Get out!’ Dunburn shouted again. ‘Out of my sight!’

  Lucas withdrew to the dressing room. He stripped down to his shirtsleeves and trousers and sat on his cot.

  When he closed his eyes, all he could see was Mairi’s wounded, accusing face. He’d done a poor job of explaining himself to her, he had to admit. Although, perhaps nothing he said could have changed anything. The damage had already been done by Hargreave, who must have been delighted in the task. And the Scots Grey. Urquhart. Urquhart had broken his word.

  Lucas felt the familiar darkness of despair enveloping him. None of it could be undone. Like the quarrel with his brother, like the battle and his failure to be at his brother’s side, it could not be undone.

  The clock struck the next hour. He took a deep breath and stood. There were still his duties of a valet to perform. Lucas would not miss having to take such personal care of another man, but feeling like he’d been of use to someone had restored his spirits for a while. Now he was sinking back into the depths. Too bad Mairi had pulled him away from death. They’d all have been better off if he’d simply died. No! He shook himself. He was past that now. Mairi had brought him through the worst. Now he must do what he could to repay the family who had inadvertently saved his miserable life.

  Surely Dunburn had not gambled away the money from the sale of the jewels and furniture? Even he could not be such a fool.

  Lucas left the dressing room. Dunburn was slumped in the chair, asleep and snoring and stinking of drink. Lucas held up the whisky bottle. Empty. No drinking this despair away.

  ‘Dunburn?’ Lucas shook him.

  Dunburn mumbled, but did not wake. Lucas removed Dunburn’s shoes and lifted him out of the chair. Dunburn made a feeble attempt to walk with Lucas dragging him to the bed. He managed to lift the man on to the mattress. No use trying to remove the rest of his clothes.

  Like a valet ought to do, he laid out a fresh set of clothes and picked up t
he ones on the floor.

  Dunburn would be more rational in the morning. Lucas could deal with him then. Find out how much he had lost at cards. Tell him of his deception and that everyone else at the house party would likely know before the end of the day.

  And try to contrive something to say to Mairi.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The next morning, Mairi rose early. In truth, she had not slept much. She’d had too much to think about, but she could not afford to think about Lucas now. Her father was meeting with Hargreave and she wanted to be certain she was present. Her father was no match for Hargreave, Mairi feared, and would sign her life away given the chance. Whatever the man had to say to her father, it could not be good.

  She glanced out of the window at the grey dawn. The day seemed to reflect her mood and it had started to rain. No outdoor activities for the men this day, unless they wished to risk being caught in a downpour.

  She rose from bed, washed and dressed herself as much as she could, then sat in her corset and shift and combed out her hair, strand by strand.

  Davina rustled the bedcovers. ‘You are awake?’ Her sister rubbed her eyes and stretched. ‘What time is it?’

  She turned around and faced the bed. ‘A little past six o’clock.’

  Davina groaned. ‘Why are you up so early?’

  For so many reasons, Mairi thought, but mostly so she would not miss her father and Hargreave. ‘I just woke up and I could not get back to sleep.’

  Davina sat up and looked out of the window. ‘Ugh. It is raining.’

  ‘Yes. No walks today.’ Mairi rose from the chair and walked over to the bed. ‘Will you help me tie my stays?’

  Davina pulled the strings and tied them. Mairi donned her dress and returned to the bedside so Davina could do up the buttons. She sat at the dressing table again and hurriedly pinned up her hair, taming the curls from the night before.

  ‘I don’t want to wake up,’ groaned Davina, who burrowed under the covers.