The Highlander's English Bride

by Vanessa Kelly

  Graeme’s smile was encouraging. “Ready to survey your domain, my lady?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “I’m ready to sleep in a hut,” Ainsley said, “if it means getting out of this blasted carriage.”

  “You in a hut. I’d love to see that,” Graeme said.

  When Ainsley stuck her tongue out, Sabrina laughed. And suddenly she was incredibly grateful that Ainsley, Royal, and Graeme had come with her on this mad journey.

  “I know this is a dodgy situation,” Sabrina impulsively said, “but I’m so happy you’re all here. Thank you.”

  Ainsley patted her knee. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, pet.”

  Graeme winked at her. “We’ll get it sorted, lass. Dinna fash yerself.”

  She smiled at his teasing, then glanced out the window. “What’s taking so long?”

  Royal started to open the door of the carriage. “I don’t—ah, Bobby, there you are,” he said to the groom. “What’s amiss?”

  “There’s nary a light on in the place, Mr. Royal. Looks right deserted.”

  “That can’t be right,” Sabrina said. “Our Edinburgh business agent sent an express to the housekeeper. They should be expecting us.”

  “We’ll check it out,” Graeme said. “You ladies stay here.”

  “I refuse to stay in this coach a second longer.” Ainsley squeezed past her husband to take Bobby’s hand and hop down.

  Rolling his eyes, Royal followed his wife out of the carriage.

  Graeme eyed Sabrina.

  She sighed. “If you want me to wait in here, I will.”

  After all, she had promised to follow his orders.

  “Och, with Ainsley stomping about, you might as well get out. If there are any lurking villains, hopefully they’ll shoot her first.”

  “I heard that,” Ainsley called. “You beast.”

  Sabrina smothered a chuckle as Graeme helped her down to the uneven stones of a central courtyard.

  “Careful, lass,” he said, keeping a hand under her elbow.

  When she smiled up at him, his gaze had turned smoky with heat. Sabrina’s breath caught in her lungs.

  He bent his head close. “I’ve been thinkin’ about last night too, ye ken.”

  Goodness. Perhaps there was hope for them yet.

  “Graeme, stop mooning at Sabrina and go knock on the door,” Ainsley ordered.

  “I thought we wanted them to moon at each other,” Royal said.

  Sabrina couldn’t help wincing. As matchmakers, Royal and Ainsley were as subtle as fireworks on the king’s birthday.

  Graeme scowled at his brother. “You go knock on the door. I’m going to scout around the back of this bloody building and see if there’s any sign of a working stable. If not, we’ll have to head back to that village.”

  “If that was a village, I’m the Queen of Sweden,” Ainsley commented.

  “I wish you were in Sweden,” Graeme retorted as he headed toward the corner of the manor house.

  “Ha, ha. Very amusing,” Ainsley called after him.

  “It won’t be very amusing to go back to that village,” Royal said as he started across the courtyard.

  “It seemed almost as deserted as this place,” Ainsley remarked.

  “Dunlaggan isn’t really a village, from what I understand,” Sabrina said. “More of a hamlet.”

  Only a few miles from Lochnagar Manor, Dunlaggan was just a small collection of cottages and shops along one main street, with a small town square and a church with a vicarage. It had taken but a few minutes to travel through it, and they’d barely seen anyone. A few curtains had twitched in windows, and she’d seen one elderly gentleman hobbling along with his dog. He’d cast a suspicious glance at the carriage, then accelerated with surprising speed to disappear into the lone pub.

  “I must say that your manor house is quite splendid,” Ainsley said. “A bit rundown but still impressive.”

  Sabrina drew in a calming breath, gazing over the vista north of the house. This was her mother’s childhood home, where Mamma had roamed the gardens and glens and lived in sight of the craggy, dramatic Highlands. Something quietly sorrowful stirred just behind Sabrina’s breastbone. If Mamma had lived, Sabrina’s life would have been so different.

  She turned to see Royal mounting the imposing stone staircase that led up to the massive front door, set between matching turrets. Lochnagar Manor was a classic tower house, built with sturdy blocks of multicolored stone. Though the building was simple and almost stark, the stone and architecture blended in a pleasing symmetry in keeping with the windswept landscape.

  Unfortunately, it also looked deserted. Its unlit windows showed no signs of life inside. Sabrina’s heart sank. Had she made a dreadful mistake after all?

  Ainsley pressed her shoulder. “Hang on, old girl. The lads will sort it out.”

  As Royal banged on the door, the other coach carrying Hannah, one of the Kendrick footmen, and the baggage, rumbled into the courtyard.

  “We’d best not unload anything,” Sabrina said, “until we’re certain someone is actually here to let us in.”

  “Royal and Graeme will get in, and we can always chop up the furniture and use it for fuel and huddle in front of the fireplace. Won’t that be romantic?”

  “Very romantic. Especially when we have nothing to eat or drink.”

  Her friend crinkled her nose.

  Royal glanced over his shoulder. “Sorry, ladies. There doesn’t seem to be—”

  A creaking of hinges cut him off, and the massive oak door swung open. An elderly woman stood in the doorway, neatly dressed in a gray gown with a tartan shawl draped over her shoulders and tucked into a belt, from which hung a large set of keys.

  “Apologies, sir. I was in the back of the house.” She looked past him, and her eyes widened. “Are ye my Lady Sabrina’s party?”

  “Unless you were expecting another group of interlopers to descend upon you,” Royal wryly said.

  When the poor woman eyed him with alarm, Sabrina hurried to the bottom of the steps. “Are you the housekeeper? I am Lady Sabrina.”

  The woman gave a stiff curtsy before coming down the steps to greet her. “Aye, my lady. I’m Mrs. Wilson. I’m that sorry, but ye caught us at sixes and sevens.”

  “But my father’s business manager sent an express post, informing you of our arrival. I do hope there’s no problem.”

  “I only got the missive yesterday, my lady. And we’ve nae had visitors in ever so long, so we’re shorthanded.” She grimaced. “We’re always shorthanded, sad to say. We’ll do our best, but the house is a wee bit rough at the moment.”

  “As long as there’s a hot bath and plenty of whisky, I’ll be fine,” Ainsley cheerfully interjected.

  Mrs. Wilson’s thin features wrinkled up like a spider’s web. “Ah . . .”

  Ainsley sighed. “Please tell us that you at least have the whisky.”

  “That we have, and plenty of it,” Mrs. Wilson replied in an oddly morose tone.

  “Never mind the baths for now,” Sabrina said. “I presume you have enough rooms to accommodate us.”

  “Aye, but they’re not ready, my lady. Many of the rooms have been closed up since the death of yer grandparents. We’ve not had visitors since then.”

  Sabrina blinked. That had been over fifteen years ago. No wonder the poor woman was so unprepared.

  “We’ll adapt,” she said. “Our servants can help, and Mrs. Kendrick and I will assist you in getting organized and preparing the rooms.”

  “Oh, huzzah,” Ainsley sardonically remarked.

  Hannah, who’d climbed out of the second coach and was standing next to Ainsley, heaved a dramatic sigh.

  “We’ll talk later about how many servants are required,” she said to the housekeeper. “I’m sure we could hire some from Dunlaggan?”

  Mrs. Wilson looked cryptic. “Maybe.”

  While Sabrina had not expected trumpets and banners, this reception seemed do
wnright bizarre. Something was wrong, and she intended to find out exactly what that something was.

  But first they needed to unload and settle in as best they could before dark fell completely.

  “Mrs. Wilson, are the stables able to accommodate—”

  “I’ve got it sorted,” said Graeme as he strode back into the courtyard.

  Scurrying behind him was an eager lad of about twelve, dressed in baggy breeches and a smock. Shuffling in their wake was an elderly fellow in a leather jerkin and boots, calmly puffing a battered clay pipe.

  “Mr. Wilson, there ye be,” the housekeeper said with relief. “Her ladyship has arrived.”

  “I’ve got eyes to see, wife. Not to mention yon fella there.” He jabbed his pipe in Graeme’s direction. “He’s been barkin’ orders since he showed up.”

  “They only received our express yesterday,” Sabrina said to Graeme. “It’s not their fault.”

  “Believe me, those stables won’t be ready for days,” he replied in a grim tone. He looked to Bobby. “Can you help Mr. Wilson and . . .”

  “Brian, sir,” the young lad chirped up.

  Graeme nodded. “Bobby, after we’ve unloaded, please help the lad and Mr. Wilson get the horses settled for the night.”

  “Aye, Mr. Kendrick.”

  Graeme glanced at Mrs. Wilson. “Do you have any footmen?”

  “Nae, sir.”

  Sabrina blinked. “Not even one?”

  “Any maids? Cooking staff?” Graeme tersely said. “Any staff at all?”

  Mrs. Wilson’s mouth puckered up, as if the question posed a problem without an answer. “It’s nae easy to hire servants in these parts. I do most of the cookin’, and we have a scullery maid. And a Dunlaggan girl helps when needed. She’s comin’ tomorrow to tidy the bedrooms and wait on the ladies.”

  “We’re going to need more help than that,” Ainsley said, casting a glance at the growing pile of luggage Bobby and the footman were unloading.

  Sabrina felt rather overwhelmed, and she never felt that way. There might not be family in residence, but there was still a manor house and grounds to be maintained. According to their business manager, the estate was still turning a profit, so there should have been more than enough resources for general upkeep. Unfortunately, Father’s former business manager had retired only two months ago at the venerable age of eighty-five, leaving an unorganized mess in his wake for the new manager to sort out.

  Graeme muttered a curse. “All right, we’ll help our men unload the carriages. Hannah can help Mrs. Wilson get our rooms ready, while Lady Sabrina and Ainsley start assessing what we’ll need to survive in this benighted place.”

  Ainsley let out a ladylike snort. “Well, aren’t you the bossy one?”

  That simply deepened his scowl.

  Oh, dear. Grumpy Graeme had reappeared. And he was being rather bossy. Then again, he was a man who was good at giving orders, especially in difficult situations. Sabrina could sympathize, because she liked to give orders, too.

  “Let’s hope it’s not benighted,” she said. “In fact, it looks like a splendid old place. I can’t wait to see the rest of it.”

  “I’ve seen the necessaries and the rooms at the back of the house,” Graeme tartly replied. “And there is nothing splendid about them.”

  Mrs. Wilson brightened. “The ladies will nae be havin’ to be usin’ the necessaries. We have indoor water closets, put in just before my lady’s grandfather passed. Although they’ve nae been cleaned in several a year,” she added.

  Hannah let out a quiet moan, and even Ainsley looked a bit daunted.

  “We’ll worry about that later,” Sabrina said. “It’s getting quite dark, and I don’t want anyone tripping while unloading the carriages.”

  “If it’s dark, at least no one can shoot at us,” Ainsley joked.

  Mrs. Wilson, who seemed to have a penchant for alarm, looked exceedingly rattled. “That is nae laughin’ matter, ma’am. There be bad folk in these parts.”

  “And you and I are going to talk about that, Mrs. Wilson,” Graeme said, “as soon as we get everyone inside and settled.”

  Sabrina decided it was time to reassert control. “Mr. Kendrick, I am the owner of Lochnagar Manor, and I will—”

  “Bully for ye, lass. Now, get yerself inside before I dump ye over my shoulder and carry ye in.”

  She bristled. “Mr. Kendrick—”

  He pointed a finger toward the door. “Now.”

  “You too, Ainsley,” Royal ordered.

  “Men,” his wife replied in a disgusted voice before following the housekeeper up the stairs.

  Sabrina glowered at Graeme, who was decidedly unimpressed by her show of defiance. Then she headed up the stairs and through the front door, Hannah trailing morosely in her wake.

  They found themselves in a massive, circular hall lit by one branch of candles. It looked positively haunted in the dim light. Sabrina swore she could hear the leathery rustle of batwings up in the eaves.

  Ainsley propped her hands on her hips and eyed the cold, uninviting space. “Well, this is quite . . . something.”

  “That’s one way to describe it,” Sabrina replied.

  Hannah crowded close, as if expecting howling ghosts to jump out of the shadows.

  “I hate Scotland, my lady,” she moaned. “It’s something awful.”

  At the moment, Sabrina could not bring herself to disagree.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Sabrina looked up from her lists, as she basked in the sunlight streaming through the east-facing windows of the family dining room. It was the first truly bright day since their arrival.

  And the first moment she didn’t feel run off her feet.

  Although truly a splendid house, Lochnagar had been woefully neglected. For three days, they’d all been working almost without pause to make the manor habitable. Sabrina had the distinct impression Mrs. Wilson was still surprised that they’d decided to remain. The woman obviously had great affection for Lochnagar and had done her best for the old place, but it was clear she had yet to trust Sabrina. As Lord Musgrave’s daughter, Sabrina was the source of many of the estate’s problems from the housekeeper’s point of view.

  Father likely had no idea how bad the circumstances were, since he’d relied so heavily on his former business manager and various estate stewards to handle the work. Those gentlemen had much to answer for, including years of willful mismanagement.

  Much to Sabrina’s extreme surprise, Lochnagar no longer even had an estate steward. According to Mrs. Wilson, the latest one had lasted for less than a year and had decamped six weeks ago, without explanation. There were mysterious circumstances that the rest of the staff refused to discuss.

  It was much the same with the servants hired from the hamlet, a remarkably stubborn and reticent group of Scots. That they didn’t trust Sabrina wasn’t surprising, but they’d been equally close-mouthed when Graeme and Royal had tried to elicit information.

  The answers to the problems of Lochnagar remained frustratingly elusive.

  Graeme and Royal had been riding the estate and speaking with tenants, both to ascertain the damage done to the land and to sniff out potential nefarious deeds. So far, they’d come up empty when it came to such deeds.

  Sabrina went to the mahogany sideboard and poured a cup of tea from the French silver tea service. The sideboard, a handsome piece of furniture from the Queen Anne period, had seen better days. The tea service, however, had been jealously guarded by Mrs. Wilson and was in good condition.

  The small dining parlor was one of the nicest rooms in the house with an old-fashioned beauty enhanced by carved oak paneling. The woodwork throughout the manor was in generally excellent condition, as were the timbered ceilings and much of the plasterwork. The views were magnificent too, especially on the east side. Sabrina could gaze out over the glens to a small loch glittering in the distance.

  The formal dining room, by contrast, was cavernous and grim, with its old-f
ashioned furniture and faded portraits of gloomy ancestors. The exception was a portrait of her mother, a sweet painting of a golden-haired, laughing girl in a riding habit. Sabrina had been forced to blink back tears when she first spotted it.

  Graeme, who’d accompanied her on that first tour of the house, had handed her a handkerchief. “Silly to have such a bonny lass stuck in with these gloomy guts,” he’d said.

  He’d then plucked the painting from the wall and carried it to Sabrina’s bedroom, hanging it over the small fireplace. His thoughtfulness had made her cry a bit, too, although she’d had the sense to do that after he’d left the room.

  Returning to her seat, Sabrina once more tackled her seemingly endless lists of linens, and inventories of plate, crystal, and silver. It would take her weeks to sort it all out. But those lists were a small part of the myriad of problems confronting her—including what would happen with Graeme. He’d taken to avoiding her again, which was more than a little vexing.

  When the door opened and Ainsley walked in, Sabrina smiled, grateful for the respite from her work.

  “I suppose it’s too much to ask for coffee,” Ainsley said, going to the sideboard. “I would kill for a strong cup of coffee.”

  “I put in a large order of supplies, but they have yet to arrive.”

  Ainsley joined Sabrina at the table. “I thought Halifax was the back end of the world. It would seem I was wrong.”

  Sabrina winced. “I’m sorry, dearest.”

  “Nonsense, it’s been a grand adventure. Besides, all these early nights are giving me quite a bit of quality time with my husband. He certainly knows how to put it to good use.”

  “Lucky you,” Sabrina muttered.

  Ainsley patted her hand. “Don’t despair, pet. Graeme will come around. It must be hard to concentrate on romance when one is worried that the object of one’s affection might be the target of a plot.”

  “That is a depressingly sensible viewpoint. Unfortunately, we seem no closer to solving the mystery than when we got here.”

  “And that means Graeme is still too fashed for romance.”

  “He’s too fashed to even let me step out of the blasted house. I suggested we go for a ride yesterday, and he all but bit off my head.”