by Diane Gaston
Hargreave had been increasingly unpleasant these past couple of weeks. He was angry at how much time it was taking to arrange his purchase of the title and land, which he wanted much more than to marry her. There was some delay with her father’s debts being paid and the Prince Regent had yet to approve confirmation of the title. Mairi wished she could delay the wedding as well.
She’d insisted the wedding be conducted with the least amount of fuss possible. It was no cause of celebration in her eyes. Everyone thought she was being frugal, when she really felt the day should be one of mourning, at least for her.
Davina, on the other hand, was all starry-eyed at the idea of her marrying Hargreave. Hargreave hid his foul mood around Davina and made a point of charming her. That in itself made Mairi uneasy. Niven was rightfully upset at the loss of the title and lands that he’d always expected to be his some day. What would become of him now there was nothing to inherit? Her mother’s eyes had opened wide enough to recognise Hargreave’s treachery and to appreciate the sacrifice her daughter was forced to make for the family. Her father was a ghost of his former self. Mairi prayed they would get used to the changes Hargreave had forced upon them. At least they would not be impoverished.
Her mother opened the bedroom door. ‘It is time to go to the church.’
Before they wrapped up in their warmest cloaks and climbed into the carriage for the short ride to the church, her mother embraced her. ‘My poor daughter.’
Mairi’s eyes pricked with tears. ‘We will manage, Mama.’
Perhaps the carriage would become stuck in the snow or one of the wheels would fall off, anything to delay this hated event. At least Hargreave travelled to the church separately, in his own carriage, and they did not have to suffer his presence. Because of the bad weather, his family declined making the trip over from their estate.
Their carriage pulled up to the church where her family had always sat in the pews reserved for the Baron of Dunburn. They would still, but Hargreave would be there. They entered the church, which was chilly and empty except for Hargreave, Reverend Hill and his wife.
Mairi kept her cloak on as she walked up the aisle on her father’s arm. Her mother, Niven and Davina walked behind.
Mrs Hill played a hymn on the organ. Hargreave eyed Mairi with a smug expression.
Reverend Hill intoned, ‘Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here...’
* * *
Lucas galloped through the gate at Dunburn House and, upon reaching the house, jumped from his horse and pounded on the door with his fist.
Robert opened it. ‘Mr Lucas!’
‘Where is Mairi?’ Lucas demanded. ‘Am I too late?’ He didn’t need to explain late for what.
‘They will already be at the church!’ Robert cried. ‘Hurry!’
Lucas remounted the horse and sped off to the church. As he neared it he dismounted.
Through the door he heard the Reverend’s voice. ‘Therefore if any man can show any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace—’
Lucas flung open the door and charged in. He must have looked like a creature from beyond the grave, an apparition, his topcoat and hat all caked with snow.
‘Stop!’ he cried.
A collective gasp came from those present.
Mairi took several steps forward. ‘Lucas?’
He removed his hat. ‘Do not do this, Mairi! You do not need to—’
‘See here,’ Hargreave cried, shoving his way past Mairi to face Lucas. His face was menacing, but a threat from Hargreave was a mere trifle to Lucas.
Lucas glared at him. ‘It is over, Hargreave. Over.’ He turned to Dunburn. ‘Your debts are paid, sir. In full. All of them.’
‘You cannot do this—’ Hargreave sputtered.
Lucas swung back to him. ‘Your money is returned to you, Hargreave. See your man of business if you do not believe me. The Prince Regent will not approve you as the holder of the caput. It is over.’
Mairi walked up to him. ‘Lucas, is it true? Was it you? You paid Papa’s debts?’
He held her arms. ‘You are under no obligation to me for it,’ he told her. ‘Nor your father. But you are free of Hargreave, if you wish to be. You may choose what is best for you. I paid the money to free you, Mairi.’
Dunburn collapsed in the pew. His wife held him and they both wept. The Reverend and the Reverend’s wife came to their side.
Davina and Niven ran up to Lucas. ‘What does this mean?’ Davina asked.
Lucas answered, ‘Hargreave was forcing Mairi to marry him. I have made it her choice.’
‘Forcing you?’ Davina looked confused. ‘I thought he was saving us.’
‘I thought so, too,’ Niven said.
Lucas responded, ‘He tricked your father into playing cards with him, first letting him win, then cheating him out of all the money. He wanted the title and land. And Mairi.’
Hargreave grabbed Mairi’s arm and started to pull her away. ‘Come on, Mairi. You made your promise to marry me. That is the same as marrying me.’
‘I never promised,’ she told him. ‘All I said was that when I married I wanted the banns read.’
Lucas seized Hargreave by the lapels of his coat and lifted him off the ground as he had done the last time he’d seen him. ‘Do not touch her!’
‘Let me go! Let me go!’ Hargreave cried, his eyes panicked.
This time he had nothing over any of them.
Lucas dropped him and he fell to the floor. ‘You may consider yourself lucky you are in church.’
The Reverend spoke up. ‘I think you should all go back to Dunburn House. The Baron and Lady Dunburn are quite undone.’
‘Mama! Papa!’ Davina cried and ran to them.
‘She does not have to marry him,’ their mother cried. ‘She does not have to marry him.’
‘Hargreave,’ the vicar said. ‘Get in your carriage and be on your way. I suggest you do not bother these good people ever again.’
Lucas picked up his hat. ‘Come with me, Mairi.’
Together they ran down the aisle and out of the door to where his horse waited. He mounted the horse and reached down to lift her into the saddle in front of him. He headed in the opposite direction from the house.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked.
‘You will see.’
They rode up into the hills until they reached the stone circle. The snow had stopped and the horse pawed at the ground until he found a patch of grass to nibble on.
Lucas and Mairi stood among the standing stones. ‘This is where you found me.’
‘Where Davina and Niven found you,’ she corrected.
‘Where you all saved my life,’ he added.
She held on to the front of his topcoat. ‘We are even, then, because you have saved my life.’
He put his arms around her. ‘Mairi,’ he murmured. ‘I stand before you now as an equal. No more secrets. I could not find the words to tell you that I am my father’s heir. I will some day have everything that was due my brother. That was what I could not bear. He died because of me and I profited. I wished to die as well. Without you, I would have achieved that.’
‘You could not tell me this?’ She still sounded hurt by it.
He shook his head. ‘I know I should have told you right away. So I will not hesitate to say what I wish to say to you now—to ask you—if—if you would be willing to become an English viscountess?’
She looked puzzled for a moment. Then her brow cleared.
He released her. ‘I know I have made a shambles of things. I know I hurt you by not telling you my real name, my real situation. But I have loved you almost from the first. I just could not admit it to myself, much less to you.’
‘You love me?’ she asked.
‘I
love you,’ he repeated. ‘But, because I love you, I desire your happiness above all things. If I cannot make you happy, then I will let you go.’
The wind gusted, making her shiver. ‘Let us leave here.’
They got on the horse again and slowly made their way to the house. Lucas was losing hope, but he meant what he’d said to her. He wanted her to be happy. She was free to make her choice.
Robert opened the door to them with a grin on his face. ‘I’ll see to the horse.’ He walked outside when they entered the hall.
‘Would you like my answer?’ Mairi asked while Lucas helped her off with her cloak.
He nodded and braced for it, removing his topcoat and hat and laying them over a chair.
She threw her arms around him. ‘Yes, Lucas. Yes. I will be your English viscountess.’
He laughed aloud with relief and swung her around with joy. When they stopped she was in his arms. Like the night of the Scottish reel, Lucas once again placed his lips against hers.
And felt content.
Epilogue
Scotland—May 1818
It had been a year and a half since Lucas had last been in Scotland to stop Mairi’s wedding to Hargreave. He’d forgotten the beauty of the country. In fact, he’d never seen it in the glory of spring. The mountains were an even more intense green and teeming with not only deer, but grazing sheep, whimsical rabbits and other wildlife. Under impossibly blue skies could be found carpets of bluebells, their blooms so fanciful they were often called fairy flowers.
Lucas’s pleasure in the countryside, though, was multiplied tenfold by the woman riding at his side. His wife, joyous at being back in the land of her birth.
He and Mairi had endured so much since last she’d been home. They’d married as soon as the banns had been read. What the people of Dunburn thought of these new banns being read right after the ones with Hargreave, Lucas did not know. He suspected not everyone was happy that the Baron of Dunburn’s daughter had married the son of an English earl. Luckily, his English counterparts had been easily charmed by Mairi, who, as she had in Scotland, treated everyone she encountered with kindness and respect. His parents rightfully credited her with lifting him out of his debauchery and despair, so she could do no wrong in their eyes. But she’d often pined for her mother and father, sister and brother, the people she loved fiercely.
The past year had not been without challenges. As Lucas’s father had shown him what duties would be expected of him, Lucas continued to battle the feeling that he was stealing what should have been his brother’s. He was not certain he could ever accept it.
The biggest challenge, though, for both him and Mairi had been the physical side of marriage. The assault she’d endured reared its ugly head all too often when they attempted lovemaking. Together they learned how to overcome this, and when they did, he could not describe the elation he experienced. To be so united in love with Mairi made Lucas into a better man. Certainly a happier man.
Their lovemaking blessed them with a robust baby boy, a fine prize for finding their way through the maze of past trauma.
This day, their son was happily being spoiled by Lady Dunburn, his doting grandmother, and his aunt Davina, who was eager to show the baby all sorts of adventures. Dunburn House was filled with happy, well-paid servants, equally as willing to spoil the child. Hargreave’s former valet had come to work for Dunburn. Both the Baron and Lady Dunburn were gratefully accepting the efforts of a very efficient estate manager and man of business, who controlled their spending and ran the property at a nice profit. Lucas was perhaps most pleased with the devotion the Baron and Lady Dunburn showed to Mairi now, eager to make up for their neglect in the past. All in all, Dunburn House had become a happy place.
And a beautiful one. As Lucas and Mairi rode over the lush land of the Dunburn estate, he could not help but marvel at the sight. He understood completely the Scotsman’s attachment to his country.
He and Mairi wound up at the standing stones, a place that had figured so prominently in their lives. He’d been saved here in more ways than one. By his rescue from death. By Mairi accepting his proposal of marriage.
They dismounted.
‘There are tales that the Druids worshipped here and that they still come and defend their sacred ground against anyone who trespasses at night,’ Mairi told him.
‘I spent the night here, did I not?’ Lucas walked around the stones, remembering nothing real of that day.
‘Perhaps you were attacked,’ she said, leaning against the tallest stone. ‘Perhaps they gave you the fever.’
‘Nay,’ he said, speaking like a Scot. ‘I think the Druids rather liked me.’
She laughed. ‘Why? You were near death when Niven and Davina found you.’
He came close to her, but was careful not to make her feel caged in his arms. He did lean close and as though to touch his lips to hers. With his lips only inches away, he murmured, ‘The Druids brought me you.’
He kissed her again.
* * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from A Family for the Widowed Governess by Ann Lethbridge.
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A Family for the Widowed Governess
by Ann Lethbridge
Chapter One
Lady Marguerite hated the way the ground sank and the water oozed up. A smell of wet mud filled her nostrils. It had taken her all morning to find the right ground conditions for the specimen she needed and she wasn’t going to give up now, even if it did mean getting wet feet.
She slogged on across the meadow, stepping on the highest tussocks. At least, for the first time in a week, it wasn’t raining. Indeed, it was a lovely spring day. Or it would be if she hadn’t had to go specimen hunting in the boggy ground of a water meadow.
There! Finally. The yellow flower she was seeking. Caltha palustris. Or marsh marigold, as she had known it as a child. She picked her way over to the tall plant, aware that the water level here was higher than ever. Now each step created deep puddles that threatened her jean half-boots.
Ugh. She hated this part of her work. Gathering plants in the wild. Petra would have adored it, but Petra was married and gone. The gentleman paying Marguerite to draw plants for his book was supposed to provide her with the specimens, but he’d said they were more prolific in Kent than where he lived and asked her to find one for herself.
She had thought it would be easy. She had seen them everywhere last spring. Unfortunately, she needed one in flow
er and very few were in bloom yet.
She tugged on the stalk. After a slight resistance, it pulled free of the muddy earth. She inspected it from root to tip. There were more plants, closer to the stream. Should she try for one with more flowers? This one had only two blossoms and one bud.
‘Ouch!’ A high-pitched scream rang out across the field.
Marguerite glanced wildly around. More screams. A child, she thought. At the edge of the field. She picked up her skirts and headed in the direction of the sound.
‘Ooh! Ooh! It hurts. Ouch. Ouch.’
Was someone striking a little girl?
She flung her sample aside and ran, ignoring the water soaking through her boots. Then she saw two little girls, the bigger of them dancing around flapping her hands and making the sounds Marguerite had heard. There was no sign of any menacing presence. Marguerite rushed up to the one who was clearly in pain.
‘What is it?’
‘Ouch. Ouch.’ Tears were running down the child’s face. ‘I was picking flowers and something bit me.’
The younger child came over to stand beside her...sister? They looked alike. Brown hair. Big brown eyes and dressed exactly the same. Where on earth had they come from?
Marguerite grabbed one of the flapping hands and inspected it. Raised bumps with scarlet edges. She knew exactly what had happened. She cast her gaze around until she found what she wanted. Dock leaves. She scrunched up a couple to free their juices, then began rubbing them all over the little girl’s hands.
After a few moments, the little girl’s cries subsided to a whimper and she gazed up at Marguerite, her face sad. ‘Why did the flower bite me?’ She pointed to a little blue cornflower.
Marguerite winced. ‘It didn’t. It is hiding in a bed of stinging nettles. Those tall green plants. That is what hurt you.’
‘Stinging nettles?’ She kicked out at the plant.
Marguerite pulled her back. ‘Careful. They can easily sting through your stockings.’ Hadn’t every child in England learned that the hard way?