by Regan Walker
“I agree. Martin has said so as well.” Kit took off her right glove and began to draw, glancing between the skaters and her sketchbook. “I do believe my husband is enjoying all the male company. It’s rare when he and his brothers are together in one place anymore. Nick’s often at sea and the twins are hardly ever in London.”
“Oh? And why is that? Do they sail frequently, too?”
“They used to, but this last year has kept them in England on some government business or other.”
“Hmm…” Muriel mused. “Does it have anything to do with ships, I wonder?”
“I don’t think so. At least Martin has not mentioned that. I hesitate to think they are involved in some dangerous business.”
“Surely nothing is more dangerous than sailing the Atlantic,” quipped Muriel.
Kit paused in her sketching. “You wouldn’t say that if you’d been with Martin and me two years ago. In Pentridge, you may recall, there was a rebellion put down by the hussars.”
“Ah yes, I remember. A nasty business that.”
“It was, but you are right to say that sailing the Atlantic is also dangerous. Tara and I worry whenever our husbands go to sea without us. And I know Mrs. Powell worries whenever her Simon is on a long voyage. When we can, we sail with them.”
“But the children…”
“Yes,” said Kit. “Nowadays, the little ones keep us women at home. But it will not always be so. Too, when the men return and the families get together, we have a marvelous time.”
As Muriel had come to know them, she believed the Powells a fine family. “Only two more of the brothers to see to the altar,” she muttered.
Kit laughed. “And those two may present the greatest challenge.”
Muriel tapped her chin. “I’ve a keen fondness for a challenge. Both the twins are gentlemen and would make admirable husbands. Robbie’s a rogue, of course, but I rather fancy rogues. When they fall in love, they do it so ungracefully, so irreparably. ’Tis quite a thing to see. Nash is the more scholarly of the two, slower to action perhaps, but no less determined to succeed.”
Kit lifted her eyes from her sketchbook to study the skaters. “I think that is Nash skating with Ailie now.”
“I do believe you are right. I’ve been watching them. They seem to get on well together. Last evening they were arguing about politics, yet here they are today taking command of the ice together. I must ask Emily what she thinks of such a match, though I’d be sorry to lose the girl’s company in London. She could be the toast of the ton.”
Kit laughed. “She very well could. Your gracious invitation is still open then?”
“Indeed it is and I do hope she will accept.”
Slowly picking himself up off the ice, Robbie reached for his hat that had tumbled from his head in the fall. He rubbed his throbbing hip. Damn ice is hard on a man’s constitution.
Aboard ship, Robbie stayed out of the rigging. Amazingly, he had no trouble walking on a rolling deck. He was a fairly good shipmaster and an adroit navigator. His talent lay with charts and steering clear of rocks and shoals.
In London, he favored the gentlemen’s clubs where his game was brag, at which he succeeded more often than not. Ice-skating, on the other hand, he considered a trial by freezing cold and slippery terrain. That his younger brother, as he liked to think of Nash, was at this very moment adroitly skimming over the ice with the Mistress of the Setters came as a mortifying set down.
His sister-in-law, Tara, came to a perfectly executed stop in front of him. “Can I help?” In her scarlet pelisse and hat, she was a lovely sight for a wounded man.
“Ah, the Queen of the Rigging.” He rose to his full height, placing his top hat back on his head. “I might have known ’twould be you who offered a hand. Very gracious. May I propose we skate together to that bench over there at the edge of the pond where sits the countess and Kit?” After meeting Ailie, Robbie had begun to think of Martin’s wife as The Other Redhead.
Tara laughed. “I’d be happy to escort you.” She took his arm, for which he was most grateful, and they began to skate together. “In Baltimore, I practically grew up on the ice in our cold winters. Deep in the woods there were many ponds like this one. If you hadn’t been seeking to be the fastest man on the ice, Robbie, you would have done just fine.”
“You recognize me?”
“Nash does not move nearly so fast. But like the tortoise, he generally gets where he wants to go in the end.”
“Hmm…” he muttered, for the first time thinking of Ailie as the place Nash intended to go. Unsurprisingly, Robbie’s skating improved mightily in Tara’s company. Glancing at her blue-green eyes, he said, “’Tis hard for some of us hares to slow down, you know.”
“I do understand since I am married to one. But no matter. You will change with the right woman, just as Nick did.”
“Slow down, you mean?”
She laughed. “Hardly. That would be asking too much. But the right woman will make you less reckless. It will be important for you to survive for her, for your children.”
“Ah,” he murmured, as they arrived at the bench. To the countess and her companion, he asked, “Might I join you?”
“Yes, please do,” said The Grand Countess. Muriel smiled, reminding Robbie that while she might have the demeanor of a queen, she had the heart of a grandmother. “A charming rogue is just what we need to entertain us, isn’t it, Kit?”
Kit moved over to allow Robbie room to take the space between them. “Indeed. Robbie will most definitely liven us up.”
He thanked Tara for her assistance. She waved goodbye and skated off with elegant grace to where Nick waited for her.
Robbie unbuckled his skates from his boots. “How did you know it was me?”
“More like I knew it had to be you,” said Muriel in her dignified voice. “I believe it is Nash skating with Aileen, is it not?”
“It is.” Robbie let out a sigh as he watched his twin sharing laughter with the girl. The two appeared to be enjoying themselves. “He is much better on the ice than I am.”
“And you are better at flirtation and charm,” said Muriel. “I suspect the mothers in the ton hide their daughters when you enter the ballroom.”
“Why, Muriel,” said Kit, pausing in her sketching, “how ever did you guess?”
“I recognize a rogue because I married one.” The countess patted Robbie’s knee. “Reformed, they make wonderful husbands.”
“I do hope you are right, Countess,” said Robbie, “as I have recently thought of taking a wife.”
“Oh how the mighty fall!” exclaimed Kit. “Do your brothers know?”
Thinking the idea was now firm in his mind, Robbie replied, “I have only recently decided.”
“I see you watching William’s sister,” observed Muriel. “Is she in your sights?”
“If she were to show an interest, she certainly would be. However, at least for the moment, Nash seems to be occupying the field.”
Robbie watched the nine skaters gliding around the ice: Nick and Tara, now that she was restored to her husband, Mary and Hugh, as athletic on the ice as on horseback, William and Emily, absorbed in each other, and Nash and Ailie. All skated as couples. Martin, skating alone, was taking on some fancy jumps.
“Martin has an aptitude for the ice,” he said. “I must have forgotten. Do you also like to skate, Kit?”
“Not so much as Martin.” Her pencil moved in quick jerks over the sketchbook.
Robbie leaned over to look at her drawing. In the middle of the large pad, Kit had sketched the pond and the skaters, not so you could discern their features, but the figures were clearly drawn so that he could make out who they were. At the four corners of the drawing, she had added smaller individual pictures: the countess on the bench, Martin in a leap, the two setters running and Robbie taking a fall.
“Did you have to include my disastrous fall from grace?”
Kit chuckled. “I thought to round out our afterno
on of skating. Things do not always go well and you so rarely fall, Robbie. Besides, I would have my sketches reflect real life.”
“That is to your credit, my dear,” said the countess.
William skated over to them, Emily in tow. “Are you finished?” he asked. “I think the group is ready for some hot wassail.”
“Wassail sounds delightful,” said Kit. “I can add what details remain when I am back in my chamber.”
“Bless you, dear man,” said Muriel. “A hot cup of wassail is just the ticket.”
Robbie smiled to himself. Or, perhaps a warm brandy and a few moments with the Mistress of the Setters. Surely, “circumspect” did not mean he could not enjoy her company.
“Allow me,” offered Nash, taking two cups of wassail from the footman’s tray and passing one to Ailie. “This will warm you up.” They had returned with the others from the pond just as the sun had dropped behind the hills. Still feeling the chill off the ice, they had gathered in the parlor, clustered around the fire to get warm.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” Ailie inquired, taking a sip of the hot spiced cider that smelled of cinnamon and oranges.
Unable to hide the joy of being with her, he grinned. “Tremendously, but for the most part, that was due to the company.” They had talked of their childhoods and laughed over their foibles. She had not mentioned George Kinloch so Nash hoped she did not hold against him his views. They had enjoyed themselves so much they were the last to leave the ice.
Ailie’s sherry-colored eyes glistened as she looked at him over the rim of her cup. “You are a very good skater, you know.”
“One of my few talents.”
“I suspect you have many, Nash Powell. Were you athletic as a child? I neglected to ask.”
“Robbie and I played cricket at Eton but, after that, Father insisted we learn the family business and sail with him. Not that we hadn’t been on ships as small boys but, from that time on, the lessons were of a more serious nature. My athletics were mostly climbing the rigging and swabbing decks. Eventually, as we gained experience and Father trusted us, we learned to sail as shipmasters.”
“Were you happy for the change?”
“Oh yes. Being with our father is always an amazing adventure. Captain Simon Powell,” he said, “the very name is like magic to the men of Powell and Sons. You would have to see him on the deck of his ship firing orders in a storm to understand. Only Nick has achieved our father’s skill as a shipmaster.”
“Ships have been in my blood since I was a wee lass, though I have not sailed far.”
“With my father, I have sailed to the West Indies, America, France and much farther.” Nash remembered how William had described his sister. Regarding her with admiration, he said, “Your brother described for Robbie and me your determination to become a designer of ships.”
A pretty blush pinked her cheeks. “Aye, I made a right keen nuisance of myself in Father’s shops in Aberdeen.”
“I admire you, Ailie. One day you will be known for the Ossian’s unique design, I’ve no doubt.” What he didn’t say was that he planned to be with her when that day arrived.
Behind him, Emily drew everyone’s attention. “Our cook tells me dinner will be in a half-hour’s time, so plan accordingly!”
The footman collected their cups and Nash escorted Ailie to the top of the stairs where he told her he would see her at dinner. She turned one way and he the other.
Dinner was a jolly affair as they recounted the day’s adventures on the frozen pond. The meal, after the usual soup and fish, consisted of a braised leg of mutton. When he inquired of Ailie about the bacon he would have expected to taste along with the sheep’s meat, she told him, “Martha would never use bacon.”
“One can always hope,” he said. With a deep sigh, Nash resigned himself to living without bacon, perhaps for the rest of his life, unless he could persuade Ailie to come to London. Could he ever live in Scotland? An intriguing thought.
For dessert they had fresh pineapple from Emily’s orangery, which Nash considered a great treat. He was just in the middle of taking a bite when William began to speak.
“Tomorrow, depending on the weather,” he said, “I thought to offer those who are interested a chance to hunt.”
Nash looked up expectantly “Geese again? I missed my chance the last time.”
“No. This time, we’ll be going to moors to hunt the red deer hinds. The herds are culled each year at this time to keep them and the land healthy.”
Kit’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean by culled?”
“Without natural predators, the herds grow too large for the vegetation they have to survive upon,” replied William. “The last wild wolf was killed three-quarters of a century ago. We will be looking for the stragglers, the weaker ones. Still, with the weather as it is, the short hours of daylight and the canny deer, we’ll have a challenge on our hands.”
“If we’re successful, we can look forward to a fine saddle of venison. I must warn you, it means another departure before daybreak and we’ll be gone until late afternoon.”
Despite William’s admonitions, Nick shared a glance with his wife, then eagerly spoke up. “We’re for the hunt.”
Kit gave Nick’s wife a look of surprise. “You, Tara?”
“I used to hunt the white-tailed deer and wild turkeys with my brothers,” she replied. “It would be a grand thing to be able to tell them about deer stalking in Scotland.”
“If you are going,” said Ailie, “so will I, but just be aware deer stalking involves much wandering and waiting. ’Tis not so exciting as shooting at hundreds of geese taking flight.”
With that, Nash chimed in, “’Twill give me time to ponder. Count me in.” There was no possibility Ailie was setting off for the moors without him. A whole day with her stalking the deer even if he never got a shot would be something to remember.
Kit spoke up. “I’d like to go to sketch the hunt, if it would be permissible.”
“Aye,” said William, “no one is required to shoot. I’ll have guns and spyglasses for those who do. The ride will be long, ladies, and once on the moors, ’twill be windy and cold. Dress accordingly. I have jackets and hats more fitting to deer stalking should you have none.”
Nash detected a gleam in Ailie’s eyes, making him wonder just what she would wear.
When William’s words of caution did not dissuade the women from going, Martin said, “If my wife goes, so do I.”
Hugh conferred with his wife. “Mary and I have decided to stay here and have a late morning ride.”
William turned to Robbie. “And you?”
“I’m not much for hunting.” Nash knew the words to be false, but he was also aware of why Robbie had spoken them. Robbie glanced at the countess. “Perhaps a game of piquet with Muriel might serve.”
“I should like to see that game,” said Emily.
“Well,” said Robbie, “if I am late, you two can start without me.”
“Humph,” mumbled Muriel.
Nash believed for much of the day, the two ladies would be playing alone. Any card game involving Robbie would not take place till late afternoon.
After the women left for the parlor and their tea, Nash enjoyed a glass of port with the men. When they rejoined the ladies, Robbie invited Ailie to play a game of chess, which she accepted.
“Be warned,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes, “I am quite good at the game growing up with Father and Will and long winter nights to perfect my skill.”
Robbie smirked and set up the board. “We shall see.”
Nash talked with William about ship designs while shooting glances at his twin, who was enjoying his game with Ailie. Robbie had always been more proficient at chess than he was.
Even before the first of the chess games had concluded, the couples going on the hunt began drifting toward the parlor door, intent upon seeking their beds for the early morning.
“I’ll have the servants knock on the doors of any g
oing on the hunt,” said William. “We’ll have a short breakfast and lots of hot coffee before we set out. Dress warmly.”
As Tara and Kit were leaving, Ailie rose from her game with Robbie and asked to speak with them. What the women conferred about, Nash had no idea, but after their heads nodded in agreement, Ailie went back to her game.
With no early commitment, Mary and Hugh lingered over their conversation with Muriel and Emily. Nash waited until Ailie and Robbie finished their game and then walked with them and the others up the stairs. At the head of the stairs, he wished Ailie a good night.
In his chamber, Nash found Robbie pulling out the map he had made upon his first visit to Arbroath town.
“Did you win the game?”
Without looking up, Robbie shook his head. “I let the lady win.”
“That was gracious of you. Was it also ‘circumspect’?”
“Of course.” Robbie looked up from the map. “Now, as for the morrow, I’m for town and tracking Kinloch to his hiding place. It may not be far from the tavern you visited if they go there every day.”
“Then ’tis just as well Ailie and I are both going on the hunt.”
Robbie folded up the map. “It will certainly make it easier for me to slip away for my own hunt.”
That night, Nash lay in his bed listening to rain pelting the window, wondering with the downpour if there would even be a hunt tomorrow.
Chapter 14
23 December
Ailie peered out her window into the darkness and saw stars glistening from the sky. Sometime during the night, the rain had stopped and, from what she could see, much of the snow had been swept away. Of course, the puddles that remained would soon freeze. On the moors and in the glens where they would stalk the deer, the snow would remain and more of it than on the coast.
Since the promised knock had sounded on her door, she assumed the hunt was still on and silently thanked the servant who had stirred the fire in her chamber to life. At least she would not have to shiver as she dressed.
