An Unsuitable Lady for a Lord (Scottish Lords and Ladies)
Page 1
Table of Contents
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
About the Author
Get Scandalous with these historical reads… The Duke’s Wicked Wife
The Madness of Miss Grey
Diamond in the Rogue
A Rogue For Emily
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by Cathleen Ross. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Entangled Publishing, LLC
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Scandalous is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
Edited by Nina Bruhns
Cover design by Bree Archer
Cover photography by NeoStock
Fursov Dmytro and Gyzele/Gettyimages
ISBN 978-1-68281-561-8
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition April 2020
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Prologue
The Duchy of Lomond, 1811
Thursday
Lord Aaron Lyle, the Marquis of Lyle and heir to the powerful Duke of Lomond, said good-bye and bowed to the latest lady his father, the duke, had invited to Lomond House.
She smiled as she curtsied, revealing teeth the size of a horse’s, and laughed as if he’d said something witty, which he hadn’t, because all wit had died after spending an excruciating hour with the lady.
Aaron turned to his father as the carriage made its way down the long driveway of the estate. “You can’t seriously think I would consider her?”
“Your problem, Lyle, is you can’t see past looks,” his father said.
Nor past that dreadful laugh. Haw, haw, haw. Aaron shuddered. How could he grow to love a woman whose proximity made his stomach turn? It rankled deep inside him that he couldn’t choose his own wife.
“The lass is an only child and heir to a fortune,” his father continued. “Admittedly, she’s only the daughter of an earl, but her father is a colleague of mine in the House of Lords.”
“Enough! I refuse to marry her,” Aaron said through gritted teeth. “I must have some feeling for the woman I spend my life with.”
The duke’s face turned puce with apoplexy. “You will marry one of the women I have chosen for you.”
Aaron stood head to head with his father, enraged. “The ladies you introduce me to have no interest in me. They’re only interested in my title.”
“Of course they are. And you are going to marry one of them. I command it.”
Chapter One
Edinburgh, 1811
Friday evening
When the wild Scottish wind swept Lady Crystal Wilding’s straw bonnet from her head, she didn’t expect it to fly, complete with ostrich feathers, right into the hands of the most compelling gentleman she’d ever seen.
He leaped with masculine grace, snatched the offending black hat from the air, and, on seeing its owner, bowed deeply. His thick, dark hair and perfectly trimmed sideburns had not been mussed by the leap, and the first thing she noticed was the amusement in his midnight blue eyes. He was exquisitely attired in a double-breasted black tailcoat, tan breeches, and black leather shoes. His cream silk cravat was tied superbly in a complicated pattern only a highly paid servant could manage. A hint of his brocade waistcoat showed under his well-tailored tailcoat.
“Lord Lyle at your service, Miss…”
“Lady Crystal Wilding.”
She strode a few feet over to him, bobbed a curtsy, and caught his compelling blue-eyed gaze for a second too long. She usually regarded powerful lords with some contempt…but something about this man grabbed her attention and wouldn’t let go.
She deliberately shook it off. She really needed to refocus and not allow herself to be distracted. “Thank you for saving this miscreant of a hat, my lord. I dinnae ken how it came loose.”
He fluffed the elaborate plumed creation before placing it in her hands and giving her a wicked smile. “Perhaps it was trying to return to its former avian owner.”
A ripple of laughter left her lips, and he joined her, his stern, noble face softening with enjoyment. Up close, he smelled of fine wool and the delicious scent of lime.
Just then, Hilda, Crystal’s maid, approached her. “I’m sorry, my lady. I should have tied the hat better.”
“No matter. You may go, Hilda. Take the hackney cab back to Old Town. I can see Sir Walter Scott is waiting for me at his front door,” she said. She was looking forward to meeting the famous poet and author.
“Aye, my lady.” Hilda curtsied and left her.
“So, you’re attending Sir Walter’s soiree? I heard there is a right harridan of a speaker tonight,” Lord Lyle confided, leaning close to her. “Let me escort you to the door.” He held out his arm for her.
She took it and walked with him down North Castle Street, conscious of how well built he was, with broad shoulders, narrow hips, and long legs.
“A harridan, you say?” she mused, biding her time. “She sounds right frightening. Does she come with horns?”
He laughed again, and she noticed how his intense blue eyes warmed to her humor. He had a dimple in one cheek when he smiled, which was rather appealing, despite his cutting words.
“She’s a bluestocking, I’m told. One of those dreadful mannish creatures, no doubt with a mustache, who’ll probably bore us. Certainly, she’ll not be a bonny lass like you.”
He found her beautiful? Well, her heart certainly beat faster when he was close, but it irritated her that he thought a woman should be comely if he was expected to listen to her. She turned to him, raised her eyebrows, and looked him up and down as they approached Sir Walter’s gate. “Why are you attending the salon if you’re not interested in this boring, frightening orator?”
Sir Walter Scott held on to the rail and limped down his front stairs to greet them. “Lord Lyle, I see you’ve already met our charming presenter, Lady Crystal Wilding.”
Lord Lyle blanched, his handsome face becoming all angles and planes, making his blade of a nose appear sharper under his high cheekbones. “Our speaker, you say?”
Crystal calmly rubbed above her upper lip, where her mustache would be if she were the harridan he had expected. “Aye, the lord has made my acquaintance and entertained me with his views. I look forward to sharing some of mine, for I’m sure he’ll eat up my words.”
Or learn to eat his own.
…
Aaron sat on the edge of his seat, next to his brother at the back of the room. His blood shushed through his body and heat stirred his soul at the sight of Lady Crystal. “I told Lady Crystal the presenter would be a bore,” he lamented. “How was I to know it was her, Will? This is the lassie whose ideas have the intellectuals up in arms and government spies keeping a watch on her.”
“That chit cannae be dangerous. Look at her. She’s bonny enough, if you fancy your lass blond, doe-eyed, and sweet.” His younger brother, William, sipped his whisky.
“Bonny? The lassie has a mind as sharp as a razor and the wit to use it. Wait until she speaks.”
Will’s brow lifted. “She’s certainly ensnared you.”
“Aye, I walked right into her trap, but she was right entertaining.” Aaron was surprised none of his spies had reported the lass’s golden hair, sweet, heart-shaped face, and the litheness of form that stirred him. “She’s clever, beautiful, and from the right background. She may be just the lassie I need.”
Six months of courting a suitable woman to get his father, the duke, off his back—that was all he needed. Six months of peace from his father, and then he would be in a financial position to take over the Lomond estate should the duke fall in to debt due to the overextravagant building plan.
Sir Walter Scott bowed to the aristocracy and gentry filling his spacious and fashionable salon. Dramatic paintings of Roman hunting scenes lined the walls, and as Aaron focused on a scene of a gladiator with a spear over the roaring fireplace, he wondered if Lady Crystal would become prey tonight, with so many men in the room.
Sir Walter waved his arm in a grand manner toward her. “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight I want to introduce you to Lady Crystal Wilding, who is here to talk about reform for women.” A collective groan filled the air from the gentlemen in the front rows, who had perhaps been expecting a more diverting subject.
Aaron plunged his hand in his pocket, finding the rare gold noble coin he kept for luck, and clenched it with anticipation. A woman had never bested him before, and it stirred something deep inside him. He liked her spirit.
Sir Walter frowned as he looked around the room. “Patience, gentlemen. Keep your minds awake and your desires asleep, for this is a salon for ideas and for literature. I assure you, Lady Crystal will not disappoint, which is why I invited her to speak. Her views are most enlightening.” He nodded at the lady.
She raised her chin and observed the audience for a moment. “I’m here to talk to you about freedom for women. It is time women were able to choose their own fates. Instead of having husbands foisted upon them, women should themselves choose whom they wish to marry.”
There was a collective, sharp hiss of breath, and he grinned at the provocative statement.
“But women cannae make their own decisions. They need a man for that,” called out one gentleman.
“Women most certainly can make up their own minds. Our intellect is quite equal to a man’s.”
There was a rumble of anger around the room as the audience muttered about her views.
“Thank you, God in heaven,” Aaron whispered under his breath, rubbing the gold noble between his forefinger and thumb as he formulated a plan.
She was perfect.
William leaned over. “Is the lassie soft in the head? Since when is a woman equal to a man? And as for choosing her own partner, even we men cannae do that.”
“Perhaps it is time society thought differently,” Aaron ventured. “I, for one, would certainly like to choose my own wife without the duke interfering.”
“Seeing as you’ve no wish to be under the cat’s paw, despite our father’s demand you marry, I doubt that will ever happen.”
“I will have to marry one of his choice eventually,” he said with reluctance, “because I cannae take over the running of the estate unless I do. But dammit, Will, have you seen the ladies Lomond insists I meet?” Best let Will think Aaron was obedient to his father for the moment, even though he was squirming like the proverbial worm on a hook, determined to find a way out. Poor Will couldn’t bear the tension at home.
His brother chuckled. “I’m always glad the pressure isn’t on me.”
Aaron nudged him. “Behold the vision before us. You know I admire beauty and brains. Now, a feisty lassie like that would keep me entertained.”
Will looked aghast. “Entertained? Dinnae go there. Nothing but marriage would be agreeable for such a lady. She is the daughter of a great lord,” he warned.
His brother was right. It would cause an outrage if Aaron despoiled a lady. And she was too outspoken to be a suitable wife. Lomond would never allow it.
Aaron swished his whisky around in his glass. Pity. He was experiencing the most intense physical reaction he’d had to a woman in ages. She was quite the bonniest lass he’d ever seen. Her pelisse molded her bust, revealing shapely breasts over a slim but firm torso. The sleeves and hem of her gown were elaborately embellished, softening the strict Empire line.
She was magnificent.
The lady frowned at the buzz of conversation until it quieted, then began to speak again. “Women should take the time to choose their husbands carefully, because once a woman marries, she is bound to live by the law of her husband to do as he bids.”
“Aye, an’ a good law it is, too,” said a gray-haired gentleman in the front row.
“For the man,” said the elderly woman sitting next to him, holding a fan.
“Here’s to the law and the control of all viragos who think they are equal to men,” said a tall, fiery-haired aristocrat leaning against the wall. He held up his glass.
The elderly lady stood, snapped her fan shut, and threw it.
Aaron watched agog with all the other gentlemen as the fan sailed through the room. The man ducked, and it hit the wall behind him.
The air was electric with tension. Even the gentlemen who had been lounging in their seats now sat with their backs ramrod straight.
Sir Walter Scott limped to the front and stood next to Lady Crystal. “Ladies, gentlemen, Lady Hamilton.” He looked straight at the elderly woman. “I implore you, do not argue or throw objects in my salon. I appreciate your emotions will be aroused by this provocative speech, but I seek to expand your minds with new concepts.”
Lord Lyle stood. “I have a question to ask the lady.”
Sir Walter looked at Lady Crystal. She nodded.
“I happen to agree with your opinion, my lady, only I’d like to take it a step further. In a time when others are able to choose, gentlemen from the great houses cannae choose their wives, either. I think all men should be free to do so.”
Will pulled at his coat. “What’s got into you? Sit,” his brother hissed.
Lady Crystal’s face softened as she listened to him, and his heartbeat quickened, compelled by her gaze. By God, she was lovely. “Then we are in complete agreement, my lord. Love is an important ingredient in marriage.”
“Hear, hear,” Lady Hamilton said. The room erupted as the gentlemen began to call out their views.
“Your modern ideas are not wanted here,” the fiery-haired
aristocrat snarled. “Men may do as they wish, but women are inferior creatures and should do as they’re told.” Others joined in, and the din rebounded off the salon walls.
“Please let Lady Crystal finish. Then you may all have your say,” Sir Walter called out, standing by Lady Crystal’s side.
Lady Crystal put her hands on her hips and glared at the audience. “You men think you know it all. It is time men knew the truth. Women feel desire just like a man. They want to love and marry a man they care about. It’s degrading to women that marriage should be a financial arrangement. Women want to enjoy sexual congress, and that is difficult to achieve when a husband is chosen for her, often twice her age and with no thought to compatibility.”
She was utterly shocking. No one clapped; instead, the audience sat dumbstruck, and silence pervaded the salon. Neither a breath, nor a cough, nor a rustle stirred the air.
Aaron spluttered mid swallow, his whisky burning his throat and making his eyes water. The idea that proper women felt desire was outrageous. No genteel woman he’d ever met had wanted sex or admitted to such a yearning. That was the province of whores and the mentally unstable.
But this lass, the fierce woman with her bright green eyes burning with passion, compelled him to listen to every word, every nuance. He thought about the rare couples he knew who had married for love. Perhaps the soft look in those happy wives’ eyes when they beheld their beloved husbands betrayed a certain…veiled desire after all.
What a novel notion.
He peered closer at Lady Crystal, contemplating her shocking assertion.
Yearning heated his body. She had a hint of wildness about her that matched her name. So interesting compared to the mealy-mouthed lassies his father insisted on introducing him to in order to pair him off with someone of status and wealth.
He could do worse.
“Hear, hear,” he called out enthusiastically. “A fine speech! Arranged marriages are a crime against reason, and I’m all for desire in lassies.”
His brother stared at him, appalled. “Have you taken leave of your senses? Remember the political career you are expected to undertake. You can’t go against our father’s views.”