“What don’t you understand? It’s all there in the letter, Hammilton. He took my daughter from me and wants to marry her! He’s the reason for her absence, the reason that Guinevere and I have been sick with worry these last few weeks –”
“Jacob,” Hammilton said, interrupting him. “I understand that. What I do not understand is what has come over Donnan. He was always such a good man, a good friend. He is the last person I would expect to engage in such scandalous and morally reprehensible behaviour,” he said, his voice showing his surprise.
“I have no idea why on earth he would do this. Something must be terribly wrong with him. He is not normally like this, I can assure you. Outside the battlefield he would not hurt anyone. He is a kind man, a good one. It is the reason I am friends with him. To think he could do this to Bernadine…” Lord Hammilton shook his head, looking severely concerned.
“So what is to be done, then?” Lord Nibley asked. He didn’t care how good a man Donnan supposedly was. All he cared about was getting Bernadine back.
“I will go to him,” Lord Hammilton said, rising from his chair. “I will go to him and convince him to release Bernadine. It is obvious to me he is suffering some sort of mental breakdown and has convinced himself that Bernadine is the object of his affections, when really she is his captive. After all, victims do not fall in love with their captors. It is impossible,” he said, looking startled at the very idea of such a notion.
“I will use our friendship, the trust we have between us, to persuade him to release her into my care. I will bring her home to you, Jacob,” he said, his voice firm on the last point, his eyes cold and clear as he looked across the desk at his friend.
“It is my fault she is in this situation in the first place. I should have never let him into that ballroom. It is obvious the grief and hardship he has suffered in his life has overcome him. Have mercy on him, Lord Nibley. He obviously knows not what he does,” he added, rounding the desk to stand in front of Lord Nibley.
Lord Nibley scoffed as he stood, shaking his head as he said, “That man deserves none of my mercy, Hammilton. And I will not let you go alone. I am coming with you.”
“You will be doing no such thing,” Lord Hammilton said, shaking his head as he walked to the door of his study. “I can see in your eyes that you want to harm the man, and that behoves neither you nor Bernadine. Let me speak to him, reason with him. He trusts me, Lord Nibley. I am positive I can handle him and get Bernadine back to safety. You would only complicate things.”
Lord Nibley blanched at the veiled insult but conceded. Hammilton was right. The rage he could feel boiling in his veins would do nothing to help his daughter, and no matter how much he might think Donnan Young deserved a sound beating for what he had done, it would not help get Bernadine back, and that was his true priority.
“Fine. But keep her safe, Hammilton. This man is obviously dangerous. Keep her safe and get her back to me as soon as you can.”
“I will not rest until I have done so,” Hammilton said, and left the room. Lord Nibley heard him calling to his footmen, asking them to ready a bag and carriage for him, requesting the hardiest of horses, ones capable of riding through the night.
Lord Nibley knew Hammilton to be a man of his word, and as he left the man’s house and climbed back into his curricle, he relaxed a little in his seat, knowing that Bernadine would be home soon and out of the hands of that terrible brute.
Ahead of him were hours and days of blaming himself, for taking Bernadine to that ball in the first place, but as he flicked the reins and brought his horses to a swift clop, he consoled himself with one thought.
I was right in hating him.
* * *
As Donnan watched the carriage make its way down the drive, he was ashamed of himself.
When Bernadine had told him her father would come for her, he had not believed her. He had thought she was exaggerating, as members of her sex were prone to do. Surely her father knew he had lost, that he could do nothing but concede to Donnan’s demands?
Donnan had waited for the man’s scripted reply with bated breath, naively assuming that Lord Nibley would capitulate to his demands. Donnan had assumed the man could see when he had been beaten, could see the futility of going up against Scotland’s most powerful laird. After all, Donnan had kidnapped his daughter. He might be ashamed of his actions now, but he knew that they must have intimidated the old man, that they proved that he was more than capable of besting Lord Nibley.
Now, Donnan realized how foolish he had been. He should have listened to the lass when she had first warned him. It would have given him time to prepare for the man’s arrival. Instead, as he watched the carriage draw nearer and nearer, Donnan wondered what exactly he was going to say to the father of his future wife, a man he hated, but who Bernadine loved.
Yet, before he could worry much more, Donnan’s eyes alighted on something rather unusual: the crest on the approaching carriage. It was a seal he was familiar with, a seal he had in fact seen recently, a month ago when he was last in England. It was Lord Hammilton’s family crest. Lord Hammilton’s carriage.
So it was not Bernadine’s father approaching after all. But while that was somewhat of a relief, allowing Donnan to breathe a bit easier, it made him wonder.
What in God’s name was Hammilton doing in Scotland?
Turning away from the window, Donnan rushed out of his room and down the corridor towards the staircase, taking the stairs two at a time. He was breathing hard by the time he reached the castle’s back gate and saw Lord Hammilton stepping down from the carriage, his face a stern mask of impenetrable emotion.
Was this a surprise visit? His friend did not usually come up north during the season, preferring to stay in town to attend the various balls and parties. As he gazed at Hammilton’s face, the man’s normally easy smile absent, Donnan began to suspect this was not a friendly visit. In fact, as Hammilton stalked toward him, the man looked distinctly unfriendly.
“Donnan Young! Let me inside!” he called, glaring at the guards who were blocking his way.
“Lads, let the man in,” Donnan called. The gates swung open, and Lord Hammilton stalked toward him, his swift steps belying his sixty years of age.
“What in God’s name has gotten into you?” Hammilton hissed as he stopped a foot away from Donnan.
“A fine greeting to a friend that is! Hammilton, what is the meanin’ of all this? What ‘re ye doin’ here, with nae notice of yer arrival? And why is there such a frown on yer face? Ye ken I’m always happy to see ye, my friend, but I cannae help bein’ a little nervous with the way yer lookin’ at me,” Donnan said, an uncomfortable laugh escaping him.
“This is no laughing matter, Donnan. Where is the girl?” Hammilton hissed.
“The girl?” Donnan asked, confused. What lass was the man speaking of?
“Bernadine Nibley. Where is she? If she’s in that dungeon, so help me God, Donnan, I will tear you limb from limb,” Hammilton said, peering around Donnan’s back.
“Dungeon? Wheesht, Hammilton, why would I put me future wife in a dungeon?” he asked. He realized his slip a moment after he said it, clenching his teeth and tightening his jaw involuntarily, but it was already too late. Hammilton was glaring at him with murder in his eyes now, looking more violent than he had ever seen his friend.
“So it’s true that you plan to marry her, then?” Hammilton asked, incredulous.
“Aye. We’re in love. She’s wonderful, Hammilton. I assume ye’ve met her, since she was at yer ball. I’ve sent her father a letter askin’ for her hand. Expectin’ to hear back any day now,” he said, trying to keep his voice even as his anxiety grew. The heightened senses he had had since childhood were telling him this was a situation that was perilously close to getting out of hand.
He saw Hammilton’s face transform into a furious mien and he took an involuntary step back as the man sputtered, looking shocked at his pronouncement.
“You cannot marr
y her against her will! It’s untoward, unjust, unethical! You’re her captor, Donnan, not her lover! And you shouldn’t even be the former, for God’s sake!” Lord Hammilton fired at him, stepping forward, closing the space between them until they were practically nose-to-nose.
“If you know what is good for you, Donnan Young, you will take me to the girl and release her into my care. She does not deserve this. Not at all,” Hammilton said, glaring at Donnan.
Donnan’s face hardened as he stared back at his friend, all the warm affection he and the man had always shared gone in an instant.
“Nay, Hammilton. I’m sorry, but that’s not goin’ to happen.”
Chapter 21
“Bernadine! Bernadine, where are you?”
Bernadine was in the library, peering at the castle’s collection of poetry when she heard the unmistakable sound of Lord Hammilton’s voice echoing in the hall nearby.
But that was impossible. Lord Hammilton, her father’s oldest friend, was in England. It was well known that he stayed in town for the whole of the season, leaving only to check on his businesses. Therefore, there was no possible way that he could be in Scotland, much less in the halls of Castle Venruit.
And yet, when Bernadine turned from the bookshelf in front of her, it was to find Lord Hammilton himself striding into the library, his face fuming as he pushed tables and chairs out of his way in his efforts to get to her.
“Thank God you are safe,” he said, breathing heavily as he took her face in his hands and kissed both her cheeks. His eyes looking slightly crazed as he stepped back and assessed her.
“Are you unharmed?” he asked, his eyes looking over her person.
“Lord Hammilton! What are you doing here in Scotland?” she asked, ignoring his question as she put down the book she was holding and grabbed his arms. She didn’t understand why he had asked that anyway. Why would she be harmed?
Hammilton opened his mouth, but before he could reply, Donnan stormed into the room, his face a similar shade of red to Hammilton’s. He was breathing hard as he approached the man, fury clear on his face. Bernadine balked, having never seen him looking so angry. What was going on?
“Hands off, Hammilton!” he shouted, grabbing the man by the shoulder and ripping him away from her. Hammilton stumbled back, looking shocked at his friend’s harsh tone.
“Donnan! What is the meaning of this?” she asked, gaping at her lover.
“He’s tryin’ to take ye from me, lass,” Donnan said, pointing back to Lord Hammilton, who had recovered from his fall and was now moving toward them. Donnan must have heard the man’s footsteps, for he turned and barked “Get back!” before Hammilton could take another step. The man paused, glaring at Donnan.
Donnan turned back to Bernadine and continued. “Yer faither sent him, no doubt, and now he’s come to take ye back to England. Ye were right. Or, at least, ye partly were. He sent for ye. But I’ll not let ye go. Ye’ll leave Scotland over me dead body,” he said, his voice catching on those last words. He took her face in his hands and rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed against some unseen pain.
“Donnan, I understand you are distressed, but we must be rational. Let’s sit down and talk about this. I’m sure Lord Hammilton is not trying to abscond with me. I do not doubt that my father sent him, but he is a rational man. Let us see what he has to say,” Bernadine said in a coaxing voice as she laid her hands over Donnan’s , squeezing them as she drew them away from her face and down to his sides.
Donnan shook his head, but he spoke no argument as Bernadine laced one of his arms through hers and turned back toward Lord Hammilton.
“My Lord, shall we adjourn to the study and discuss what exactly is your reason for coming?” she asked, lacing her tone with sweetness to slice through the tension heavy in the room.
Lord Hammilton bowed his head in acceptance, and Bernadine led the men out of the room and down the corridor toward the opposite end of the castle where Donnan’s study lay.
Ten minutes later the men were seated across from each other with tumblers of whiskey in their hands. It was three in the afternoon, far too early for alcohol consumption, really, but Bernadine had sensed that the men needed something to quell their tempers, and alcohol seemed as good a substance as any to do the job.
She herself was nursing a cup of tea, the sweet milky liquid calming her as she glanced between the two men in front of her.
They were glaring at each other, their postures betraying aggravation as they sipped the amber liquid in their glasses. Looking at them, Bernadine could hardly believe they knew each other, let alone that they had been friends for a good few years.
Donnan had told her of what his friendship with Lord Hammilton meant to him, but it was clear that those amiable sentiments were not present in the room. All she could see was hatred and a keen desire from each of them to be rid of the other.
Clearing her throat and setting down her tea cup, Bernadine spoke. “Lord Hammilton, why don’t you start? Why exactly have you come, and what is agitating you so?”
Hammilton huffed a bitter laugh as he took a gulp of his whiskey. He turned to her. “A few days ago, your father came running into my office spewing what I initially thought was nonsense about you being kidnapped by Donnan. He said he had received a letter from Donnan himself confessing to kidnapping you and subsequently falling in love with you. He then asked for your father’s permission to wed you, as well for an apology for the insults your father threw at him the night of the ball.
“Naturally, I thought the stress of your disappearance had finally driven your father to madness, so imagine my surprise when your father produced the letter and I recognized the handwriting as that of my long-time friend and business acquaintance,” he said.
“It was then that I realized that your father was not the mad one.”
Lord Hammilton turned to Donnan and addressed him. “Honestly, Donnan, what has gotten into you? To kidnap a woman, then force her to marry you? Have you gone completely barmy? Have you no sense of decorum, of propriety, of right from wrong?” Hammilton’s voice rose with every word, until he was shouting, his face contorted in anger as he berated his friend.
Bernadine watched in mute horror as the man railed insults at her lover, calling him every horrid name in the book, along with a few she had never heard of. The tirade went on for some minutes, until finally Hammilton seemed to run out of steam, collapsing back into his chair and gulping down the rest of his drink.
The room was silent a moment before Donnan spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Nay, my friend. I am not barmy, unless it is the barminess of love of which ye are speakin’. For I am in love with Bernadine, it is true. And I did kidnap her and made her my captive. It was wrong, and I wish I could say I regret it. But I cannae, because if I had nae taken her, I wouldnae have fallen in love with the lass. Her love makes me a better man, Nicholas. That alone is well worth the risk and heartache her kidnappin’ caused.”
“How dare you!” Lord Hammilton shouted, standing up from his chair, the whiskey sloshing from the glass in his hand. “You have no idea how worried her father has been this last month in her absence. He’s hired countless Bow Street Runners, detectives, the whole lot, and not one of them has been able to find her.
“And here I come to find that the entire time, she’s been holed up in this castle with you. Could you not have sent word that she was safe? That she was unharmed? We had no idea where she was, Donnan. Her father and former governess have been in agony.”
Hearing this, Bernadine could not help but tear up. She had suspected her absence had been hard on her father, but she knew now that she had no idea of the extent of it, no idea just how trying a time it had been for him and poor Guinevere. She had been gallivanting about the castle and its grounds, spending her days on horseback and her nights with Donnan, while her father spent hours waiting with bated breath for word of her that would not come.
I have been horribl
y selfish, she realized. That writing desk had sat unused for days, and in that time a letter could have been sent that would have calmed her father. Instead, she had let the first words her father heard of her come from Donnan, a man her father hated.
Oh, she had truly made a mess of things.
“It is my fault,” she said, her voice full of emotion as she looked at Lord Hammilton. “I was not allowed to write home at first, but when Donnan and I began our relationship, he freed me from all former limitations. I was free to contact my family, and do as I choose, and I chose not to write to Papa. Do not be angry with Donnan, My Lord. Be angry with me, for I am the true cause of Papa’s strife.”
Lord Hammilton scoffed. “You are kind, Bernadine, in taking the blame from Donnan, but he is the one who ought to shoulder the guilt. He took you from your family. He is the cause of your absence, and thus the cause of your father and Guinevere’s distress. He deserves all my ire and more. You, my dear, deserve nothing but my compassion for being forced to live with such a fool.”
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