The Highland Earl

by Amy Jarecki

  The Cameron heir looked to the skies and hesitated before the men pulled the boom with Mar and Oliver over the side. John immediately stepped forward. “Exactly what dealings have you with my wife?”

  “Beg your pardon, m’lord, but presently I’ve a ship to sail.” Sir Kennan gave a curt bow before he bounded up to the quarterdeck. “Weigh anchor!”

  “Captain,” Mar prefaced, following. “To where are we sailing?”

  Evelyn took the boys by the hands and climbed the steps as well. “Please, Sir Kennan, might we have a word? There is a great deal to tell you.”

  “A bloody great deal,” said John, his tone sharp, clearly expressing his annoyance.

  Ignoring them both, the captain extended his spyglass. “Mr. Tailor, set a course for Edinburgh.”

  “Aye, aye, Edinburgh, sir.”

  Sir Kennan gestured to a sailor standing beside the helmsman. “Mr. MacNeil is our boatswain. He’ll show you to your quarters. I’ll send for you once the Highland Reel is under way.”

  John was ready to spit darts. He’d just been usurped by a sea captain—a knighted sea captain and heir to a lairdship, but the man wasn’t a peer. Cameron could have taken a few moments to explain why he happened to be setting sail at the same time the whole mess with Dubois’s treachery had been revealed. Why did Sir Kennan possess information about the missing Spanish gold? On top of it all, the bastard seemed to have an affinity for Evelyn—something John intended to address forthwith.

  Fortunately, once the crew discovered Oliver and Thomas were lads, they discarded Lady Phoebe’s dresses and a cabin boy took them under his wing to explore the ship. John allowed it, praying to God the pair would survive their escapades without adding too many new curse words to their vocabulary.

  But John needed answers from Evelyn—and in private where they wouldn’t be overheard by a crew of probable miscreants. Once they were alone in a crude cabin with a narrow bed and a meager writing table, he gestured to a wooden chair. “Please sit.” Surprisingly, she did as he requested without posing a quarrel. “I need the truth from you before meeting with Sir Kennan.”

  She gave a nod.

  “How long have you been meeting with Dubois?”

  “Are you not going to ask me why first?”

  “I ken why. The bloody letter on my writing table from Argyll was the duke’s damned idea—and you fell right into his trap. He suspected you and I told him he was full of rubbish, even though I’ve known you’ve been reading my correspondence since the day we took our vows.”

  “You knew?”

  “Aye, and I should have put an end to it posthaste.”

  “Oh dear,” she mumbled, her brow furrowed as she clutched her arms across her midriff. “But after what happened, I’m certain Argyll suspected you to be casting lots with Dubois as well.”

  “Obviously. I should have refused his request and torn the missive in front of His Grace’s face.” John raked his fingers through his hair. “Now answer me. How long have you been passing information to Dubois?”

  “A bit over a year.”

  “A year?” John threw out his hands. “My word, woman, you haven’t been in London that long.”

  “I met Mr. Dubois when I was reading to the soldiers at the hospital in Nottingham.”

  “A soldiers’ hospital? That’s an odd place for him to be.”

  “Yes, now that I think on it, you’re right. But after a dear servant died because of my father’s callousness, the things Mr. Dubois said about supporting Prince James and fighting for better lives for all Britons struck a chord with me.”

  “Wait.” John slashed both hands through the air. “That’s right, at the Copper Cauldron, you were adamant that Dubois was sympathetic with the Jacobites.”

  “Everyone thought so—Seaforth, Tullibardine, and Sir Kennan, just to name a few. When Mr. Dubois first approached me, he asked me to provide information about my father’s business dealings to further the cause for James.”

  “And you spied on your father?”

  Evelyn drew a hand across her furrowed brow. “I thought I was helping improve conditions for common laborers and the like. My father is not the man you are. He pays a pittance to his servants and he has them whipped for the slightest insubordination. Moreover, he goes to shocking lengths to avoid paying taxes.”

  “Hardly things for which a daughter should be disloyal to her kin.”

  “In my mind, I was acting with honor and loyalty to my country. Papa is a smuggler—the goods he brings in illegally subvert English and especially Scottish producers, making poverty rife within our country. He imposes duties on those beneath him, though he goes to great lengths to not pay them himself, profiting every way he can. I do love him, but I do not approve of or condone his politics.”

  John folded his arms while a lead ball dropped in his gut. “Nor mine, I presume.”

  “You are different altogether.”

  “Yet you brought your deceit into my house.”

  “I knew you would never understand.” Hiding her face in her hands, she shook her head. “I thought you were just like my father. But now I realize I was wrong to do so.”

  “What’s this? You do not believe you should spy on your husband, but have no issues with spying on your father?”

  “I don’t know.” Evelyn’s shoulders curled over as if she were on the verge of tears. “You make it sound as if my every action was wrong. And I’ll admit it didn’t feel right when Dubois asked me to keep snooping once we were wed. Even though at first I thought you were…”

  “What?”

  “I initially judged you by your reputation. I was mortified when my father agreed to our union. I believed I was marrying a hideous beast.”

  John dropped his hands to his sides. “And then look who turned out to be the beast.”

  “I’m no beast! Please, John.” Evelyn straightened, looking like a Viking princess. “Dubois has betrayed me—he has betrayed us all. Please believe me when I say I thought I was working for right—for good.”

  “But you were working for a traitor.”

  John hovered over her, his hands gripping the chair’s armrests. “What is your relationship with Cameron? Is he your lover?”

  She gaped, clearly taken aback by the notion. “Good heavens no!”

  “Och aye?” But John wasn’t about to let his suspicions lie. Not yet. “Well, he seems unduly fond of you.”

  “I assure you Sir Kennan has never even hinted at such a thing.”

  “How did you come to know him?”

  “Through Mr. Dubois, of course. Just like all the others.”

  “All the others?”

  “I mentioned them. Most Jacobite loyalists have visited the Copper Cauldron at one time or another.”

  “Jesu, this is a cocked-up mess.”

  “It is a calamitous disaster.”

  “I may never be able to trust you again. What in God’s name were you thinking, Evelyn? You have not only deceived me, you have smeared my good name.” He thrust his finger westward. “Back there you risked Oliver and Thomas’s lives, spiriting them through London in girls’ clothing as if we all were common criminals.”

  She hid her face again. “I’m ever so sorry.”

  “Being sorry will solve nothing!” Unable to abide remaining in the same berth, John stormed out, slamming the door behind.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Her insides shredding into a thousand bits, Evelyn had no idea how long she’d been doubled over, sobbing into her palms. Until today, she had been unequivocally convinced she was supporting the right cause. How had she become an evil person?

  She never intended to hurt anyone. And all along, her efforts were supposed to be helping the cause, not helping King Louis annex England to France. How could she have been so naïve?

  And now John would never trust her again. What would he do with her? Lock her in the hold? When the ship moored in Edinburgh, would he send her to a convent on the Continent? Dear God, h
e might go so far as to put her on trial. She could be shipped to the Americas on a convict ship—or, worse, shipped back to London and hanged for treason.

  When a knock came at the door, she chose to ignore it. Mar wouldn’t have knocked—he would have barged in with an army of musketeers to take her to the bilges and tie her to a barrel for the duration of the voyage.

  All this time she’d thought John was the deceitful one, and in the blink of an eye the tables turned and now she felt like the most despicable person in all of Christendom.

  The door cracked open. “May I enter, m’lady?” asked Sir Kennan.

  Evelyn’s shoulders curled over farther. “Please do not. It wouldn’t be proper.”

  “I only need a moment.” The captain slipped inside. “Good Lord, your eyes are swollen and red.”

  “That’s because I’ve been deceived.” Evelyn sat straight. “And now I’m the one who is a traitor to the country I love. Worse, I doubt my husband will ever see fit to speak to me again.”

  “If he doesn’t, he’s a fool.” Sir Kennan leaned against the wall. “Dubois deceived us all, and it sounds as if you were embroiled in the thick of it. Tell me what happened with Argyll.”

  Wiping her eyes and nose with a kerchief, she straightened and drew in a deep breath. “I may as well start from the night I saw you at the theater. Mr. Dubois indicated he’d received a communication from James and said it was imperative for me to leave a window unlocked.”

  “Bloody bastard,” the captain swore under his breath. “Did you ask why he wanted access to Mar’s town house?”

  “I should have. But after all this time, I saw no reason to doubt him, although…” Evelyn clenched her fists beneath her chin and gasped.

  “What is it?”

  “That was the first time I sensed Mr. Dubois’s motives might be sinister. In fact, I awoke in the dead of night and resecured the latch.”

  “Good Lord, you could have been in grave danger had you encountered his spy.”

  “Thank heavens I didn’t.” Evelyn went on to explain the missive Argyll had given to Mar, which was meant to trick her but ended up implicating them both for treason. By the time she finished, she was a weeping mess.

  Sir Kennan pulled her up into a gentle hug. “There, there, m’lady. If anyone can sort through this mire, ’tis the Earl of Mar.”

  “B-but I thought you haaaaaaated him.”

  The captain patted a kind hand on her back. “I’m none too fond—though I’ll admit I ken him from a distance only. But I’ll tell ye true, if anyone in Scotland can bend the ear of the queen, it is your husband.”

  She drew in a stuttered breath. “He is a good man. If you would only give him a chance.”

  The door burst open. Mar stood in the doorway, disbelief etching the hard lines of his face. Clutching a dirk and a sword, he strode inside. “I kent the pair of you were too familiar to be mere acquaintances. Unhand my wife this instant!”

  Kennan stepped away and held up his palms. “’Tisn’t what you think, m’lord. I was just consoling a weeping woman.”

  Evelyn pushed between them. “Please, John. He speaks true. I—”

  “And how am I to believe anything you say?” He glared at Sir Kennan over her head. “I’m calling you out, Cameron. A duel is the only way to settle this.”

  “No!” Evelyn shrieked. “He has done nothing ungentlemanly.”

  John pointed his dirk over her shoulder. “He is in this chamber, is he not?”

  Grasping Evelyn’s wrist, Sir Kennan ushered her aside. “I have no qualms dueling with you, Mar. But first I ask you to hear me out.”

  She pressed her fingers to her lips. “Please, John, listen to him.”

  Mar narrowed his eyes and glanced between them. “You’d best speak quickly.”

  The captain’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Revealing my hand might send me to hell’s fire, but I cannot sit idle whilst you drag this wee woman through the mire. Aye, ye ken Dubois fooled us all.”

  Mar lowered his dirk. “Who is all?”

  “Every Jacobite from London to the Outer Hebrides.” Kennan moved to the door and clamped his fingers around the latch as if he might be planning to make a hasty escape. “At first, the Frenchman came to us with letters from James—though only recently I’ve discovered they were forged.”

  “So you were planning a rising. I kent it all along.”

  “You’re wrong. Thank God the forgeries didn’t ask us to stage a revolt.”

  “What did they say?” asked Evelyn.

  “One asked us to organize our forces and be patient. Another said with Her Majesty’s failing health, the prince would see us soon and reward all those who remained loyal.”

  “Nothing new, then?” asked Mar. “No imminent call to arms?”

  Sir Kennan’s grip on the latch eased. “We all ken that is not his plan. Since James failed to step ashore at Edinburgh in ’07, he asked us to remain idle but vigilant throughout the remainder of his sister’s reign.”

  John sheathed his sword but not his dirk. “I’ve heard that as well, but what about after? You ken James cannot take the throne unless he converts to Protestantism.”

  “Because of the Act of Union that you signed, mind you.”

  “Signed because if I did not, a civil war would have ensued.”

  Sir Kennan pulled out a small compass and slid it from its leather sheath. “As we’ve established, ’tis not news to you that James intends on taking the throne after Anne’s reign.”

  “He wants to do so peaceably,” Evelyn added.

  “Agreed.” Kennan tapped the compass and frowned, looking to what seemed to be northward. “The cause has been working to earn coin should it become necessary to use force.”

  John’s face remained impassive.

  “You are aware of this, are you not?” Evelyn asked.

  “I am, though I still do not ken where Dubois plays into the Jacobite cause. The queen and her ministers initially believed him to be an emissary of King Louis to assist with peace negotiations.”

  “Yes, I understand that was his ploy,” Evelyn agreed. “And it seemed plausible to me—after all, Louis has harbored James since his exile.”

  John finally sheathed his dirk. “Dubois was sent by Louis under the guise of advising the queen on peace talks in the Netherlands. Meanwhile, he began recruiting those loyal to James to raise funds for the eventual succession. Yet in truth, he was deceiving everyone by spying for the king of France, who has plans to invade Britain and annex her as a province of France.”

  “Aye.” Replacing his compass, Sir Kennan smirked. “And that’s not the worst of it.”

  When the ship rolled with a wave, John braced himself against the wall. “Let me guess—the bastard’s taken the Spanish gold and James hasn’t seen a farthing.”

  As she gasped, Evelyn’s stomach turned sour. “The gold?” she squeaked.

  Kennan grimaced. “Gone.”

  “Fie,” John growled. “God’s bones, can the two of you dig your graves any deeper?”

  Neither of them had a word to say. Evelyn staggered for the chair. The Spanish gold would have been better in her father’s hands than in those of that deceitful scoundrel.

  “Now, Cameron, this story has been most entertaining, but my challenge still stands. Why the devil did I find you behind closed doors with my wife?”

  The captain’s fingers slipped to the pommel of his dirk. “I wished to speak to Lady Mar privately.”

  “Why?”

  “To ask about what had happened this day.”

  “And why not ask me? I was present as well as Her Ladyship.”

  The captain’s chin inched up. “I found it difficult to trust you.” At least Sir Kennan didn’t attempt to lie.

  A tic twitched aside John’s eye—the bloody spasm was becoming a permanent annoyance. “But you trust Lady Mar, a woman who has been spying on her husband and her father for over a year? Tell me, how did you come to be acquainted with my wife?”


  “At the Copper Cauldron,” Evelyn said. “Sir Kennan was with Mr. Dubois when I brought news of the East India’s cargo.”

  John knit his brows. “East India?”

  Evelyn fanned her face with her kerchief. “That was the name of the Dutch fluyt reported wrecked off the coast of Shetland. But you know the ship as the Flying Robin—not sunk but hidden in a cove near Bettyhill for an overhaul. The Flying Robin was the name Papa used when he reported the gold missing.”

  Sir Kennan nodded. “Aye, after His Grace had the boat refitted so as not to draw suspicion when he smuggled its booty into England.”

  “Damnation.” John shook his head. “The depths of these misdeeds boggle the mind. And you pair, your association is only on account of Dubois?”

  “Aye, m’lord.” Kennan’s brow arched as his gaze shifted to Mar’s sword. “I would swear the same on my life.”

  John gave the captain a dead-eyed glare. “I’ll remember you said that—after this is over your life still may be forfeit.”

  Sir Kennan opened the door, eyes growing dark like a man ready to draw his weapons. “Shall I plan on our duel, m’lord?”

  John gave a clipped bow. “At the moment you may leave us.”

  As soon as Sir Kennan slipped away, Evelyn dropped to her knees. “Please believe me, I came to our marriage bed a virgin.”

  “Those may be the first truthful words you’ve ever uttered in my presence.” He pulled her up by the arm. “Do not grovel. It doesn’t become you.”

  “Please John, I promise I did not act out of malice. What can I do to earn your forgiveness?”

  He released his grasp, his face looking older and tired, but no less handsome. “I wish I knew.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Using the writing table in the captain’s cabin, John reread the letter he’d written to the queen. Though it was likely that Argyll had inflicted enough damage to ruin him, John had acted as Her Majesty’s faithful servant for more than a decade, and that must account for something. He knew her well enough not to try to deny Argyll’s allegations. Instead, he’d explained the situation truthfully, though stretching the facts a bit by saying that Lady Mar had been blackmailed by Mr. Dubois, who had led Her Ladyship to believe that Mar’s life was in danger if she didn’t comply.