Daring Lords and Ladies

by Emily Murdoch

  “What happened?” Mister Haywood demanded.

  “The damned gun they gave me wasn’t loaded,” Robert said.

  “What?” Mister Haywood demanded.

  Voices sounded near the main doors.

  Haywood’s head, visible over the top of the stall, snapped in the direction of the voices. He gestured to them. “Into the stall,” he ordered.

  Aunt Davina grasped Elizbeth’s arm and tugged her toward the rear of the stables, toward—

  Elizbeth dug in her heels.

  Aunt Davina pulled. “Elizbeth,” she hissed.

  “I cannot go in there.” Elizbeth’s eyes fixed on the stall the two men had disappeared into.

  Aunt Davina grasped her shoulders and shook her. “You will get us caught. Do as I say. Margarette, help me.”

  Aunt Davina gripped Elizbeth’s arm so hard it hurt. Margarette gripped her other arm and, together, they dragged Elizbeth toward the stall. Toward Robert. Toward his brother. Why was she so afraid? Daniel wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be. He was only wounded, wasn’t he?

  They reached the stall and Mister Haywood whirled. Elizbeth gasped at sight of Daniel’s blood-soaked shirt—and the gash in his neck.

  “Aunt Davina?” Margarette said in a small voice.

  Aunt Davina pulled them into the far corner of the stall. Elizbeth nearly gave in to tears as her skirts brushed Daniel’s arm. Aunt Davina held her and Margarette close. Still, Elizbeth couldn’t take her eyes off Daniel—and Robert, kneeling beside his brother. Daniel lay far too still. She couldn’t discern any rise and fall of his chest.

  “Bloody hell.”

  Mister Haywood’s expletive jarred her.

  “Remain here,” he ordered.

  Mister Haywood spun and strode from the stall, closing the door behind him. Elizbeth wanted to drop to her knees beside Robert. With both arms, Robert lifted the lad close and hugged him close.

  ***

  Acid burned through Robert’s belly. His brother was three and twenty. This was a dream—a nightmare. Everything, from the moment Elizbeth had appeared on his doorstep until now, existed as one long nightmare. If she’d not expected him to sweep her away and marry her, would his brother still be alive? Haywood would have taken the women away from home. Nae—Elizbeth would have fled with her aunt and sister and left Kaerndal Hall far behind.

  Somewhere in the distance, the murmur of voices penetrated the haze in his brain, but he hugged his brother tighter. Was his body already cold? Guilt tightened like a vice around Robert’s heart. When had MacGregor stabbed Daniel? Daniel’s aim had been true. His bullet had lodged in MacGregor’s massive chest. If Robert had used his own gun instead of McLaine’s, Daniel would still be alive. Who the hell had taken his gun?

  “I knew ye were not to be trusted, you bastard.”

  MacGregor had known the gun wasn’t loaded.

  Fury swept through Robert’s grief. How could he have been so stupid? His arrogance had killed Daniel. How would he tell their mother that his inattention had cost her younger son’s life? She would never forgive him. For the first time in his life, Robert was glad his father wasn’t alive. At least he had been spared the pain of losing a son. A sob wrenched from Robert’s throat.

  “Robert,” a woman murmured.

  She dropped to her knees beside him. He looked at the delicate hand on his arm, then lifted his eyes to Elizbeth beautiful face.

  She leaned close and whispered, “You must try to be silent.”

  Silent?

  Daniel’s head lolled against the crook of his arm. Robert closed his eyes and rocked Daniel’s limp body. A hand stroked his arm. He snapped open his eyes. Elizbeth’s brow was furrowed and a tear slid down her right cheek.

  Movement in the corner of his eye drew his attention. Haywood?

  “We must go,” Haywood commanded.

  Go? Where?

  “Matland, snap out of it,” Haywood ordered. “We have moments to get the woman away. The inn keeper and his men are distracted with MacGregor. They think I am a concerned passerby helping you with…” He glanced at Daniel and shook his head. “We must hurry.”

  Robert stared. “MacGregor lives?”

  “For now.” Steel glinted in Haywood’s eyes.

  Robert started to push to his feet. Elizbeth’s hand fell from his arm. He nearly dropped Daniel and sank back down. He couldn’t leave his brother. Even to go after MacGregor. He looked up at Haywood, helpless.

  “You must let him go,” Haywood said, voice soft.

  Robert understood what he was asking.

  “I cannot—will not—leave him here,” Robert snarled.

  “He swore his life to protect the line,” Haywood said.

  “He was a boy,” Robert snapped. “He shouldn’t have been here.”

  “You were younger than him when you joined active duty,” Haywood said. “There is more at stake than any of our lives. You know our oath.” He grasped Elizbeth’s hand and helped her to her feet, then crouched and disengaged Robert’s arms from around Daniel. When Haywood hoisted the boy’s body over his shoulder, Robert surged to his feet but stumbled back two paces before catching himself.

  “He must have a Christian burial,” Robert said through a dry throat.

  Haywood turned toward the stall door.

  Robert seized his arm and spun him around. “Did you hear me?”

  Haywood’s eyes flared. “Remember who you are.”

  Robert opened his mouth, but Haywood cut him off.

  “If this were you, you would want Daniel to remember his oath.”

  Davina McKinley stepped up beside them. “There must be a way. We cannot leave the boy here. Take him in the carriage.”

  “I will see to him,” Haywood said.

  “Nae, I will,” Robert said.

  “Matland—”

  “Sir,” Miss McKinley pressed Haywood’s arm. “What, if not this, are we fighting to preserve? Family is everything.” She looked at Robert. “Mister Matland will not forget his oath to you—or his promise to me.”

  Robert blinked. “Promise?”

  “Not an hour gone, you swore to spend the rest of your life protecting us.”

  He had promised that. Only, he hadn’t even protected his brother. Still, he nodded, then took Daniel from Haywood and walked away.

  ***

  Elizbeth took two steps to follow Robert, but Aunt Davina grasped her arm.

  “He must do this alone,” her aunt said.

  Nae. Alone was the last thing Robert needed. He needed someone who loved him. Her heart lurched. Did she still love him? He had rejected her, accused her of manipulating him, then sent her home like an errant child.

  Isn’t that what she’d been?

  She’d believed he would save her.

  “Come, ladies, we must go,” Mister Haywood said.

  Margarette clung to Aunt Davina. Their aunt urged Elizbeth from the stall. Elizbeth caught sight of Robert as he exited the rear door. Mister Haywood guided two saddled horses toward them.

  “Where is Mister Matland gong?” Elizbeth asked.

  “Do not concern yourself with him,” Aunt Davina said.

  Mutiny stirred in Elizbeth. All everyone did was order her about like a child, but thus far, she was the only one who hadn’t been captured by her father.

  “I intended for you three to be out of sight and comfortable inside a carriage.” Mister Haywood nodded toward the carriages. “Now that we have enough riding mounts, and in view of how near McKinley came to capturing you, I suggest we ride. Will you ladies be able to? You will need to go astride. We have only men’s tack, and must travel swiftly.”

  “We will manage,” Aunt Davina said.

  Elizbeth swallowed. She’d never ridden astride. She glanced at Margarette. Her sister grimaced, and Elizbeth suspected Margarette was fagged from her earlier ride.

  “Good,” Mister Haywood said. “Miss Elizbeth, Miss Margarette, each of you take a horse to the mounting block and mount up. I
will fetch the other two horses from without.”

  “Four horses?” Elizbeth said. “What of Robert—Mister Matland?”

  “He will follow once he has taken care of his brother,” Mister Haywood said.

  “We cannot abandon him.” She whirled to face her aunt. “Aunt Davina, tell him that we cannot abandon Robert. It-it isn’t right.”

  “We have no choice,” she said.

  “But—”

  “Nae,” her aunt cut her off. “We do not know how long it will take him to…to say goodbye to his brother.”

  Tears stung Elizbeth’s eyes.

  “Pull yourself together, Elizbeth,” her aunt said.

  “But Aunt Davina, his brother…Daniel. If I go, Robert must bury him alone,” she said in a rush.

  “Aye, and if we do not hurry, more people may die. A constable could arrive at any minute. Two of James’s men are still without and could find us.”

  Elizbeth drew a sharp breath.

  “Do you understand?” her aunt demanded.

  She didn’t, but nodded.

  Minutes later, they rode out the back of the stables. Elizbeth scanned their surroundings but found no sign of Robert. Had he been caught already? Had someone realized he’d turned on their pursuers? Had the man who’d murdered Daniel woken up and branded Robert a traitor?

  ***

  When twilight fell, the familiar turrets of Sealladh Locha came into sight above the distant hills. A few of the tears Elizbeth had fought to keep at bay had slipped past her resolve, and now that they neared their Great Aunt’s home, she was certain Robert had been caught. No one had mentioned his absence. How could they be so callous?

  The horses started up the hill to the castle. Her steed’s neck strained with the effort of climbing. They had traveled hard, with only three brief stops to rest the animals and stretch their legs. This day had been insane. Her father had gone mad. Did he really fancy himself the king of Scotland? Had he truly traded them to France for…for what? How did these things work? Women of wealth and power were often used to create alliances with other powerful families. What did her father hope those alliances would bring?

  She shuddered at the thought of finding herself married to a Frenchman. She had met French men and women. They had been pleasant enough. But to marry one? To be sent away from her home…forever.

  Oh, Papa, how could you?

  If their mother were alive, she would never allow such a terrible thing to happen. But then, if their mother were alive, their father wouldn’t be acting so irrationally. Her heart twisted and she suddenly missed her mother as much as in those terrible days after she’d first died. The years rolled back and pain washed over Elizbeth as it had when the doctor emerged from their mother’s bedroom. Elizbeth had tried to enter the room, but he’d stopped her and told her that her father needed to be alone with their mother.

  Elizbeth hadn’t been in the room when she’d passed. None of them had. Their father had selfishly kept those last moments of their mother’s life to himself. Outrage swelled in her breast. He had been selfish every day since. His selfishness now extended to giving—selling—them to France, so that he could be king. King! She, Margarette and Aunt Davina would find themselves in France while her father ended up on the end of a noose.

  Memory rose of her father rolling with her in the grass outside their home. His arms always made her feel so safe and his laugh…he had such a deep, rich laugh. Had he once laughed since their mother had died?

  They turned up the drive to the castle. They had to put an end to this madness. A tremor rocked her stomach. Aunt Davina was right. Their first course of action to hamper their father was to marry.

  They rode through the yawning gate, under the battlements of the castle. Mister Haywood led the way across the cobbled yard to the front entrance of the keep.

  “Wait here,” he said.

  He dismounted and hurried up broad steps to the door. When he lifted the knocker and knocked, the sound seemed to echo through the silence. Moments later, the door opened and Great Aunt Saundra’s butler, Mister Clark, appeared. Mister Haywood said something to him, too low for Elizbeth to make out, and the butler disappeared down the hallway.

  A light flared in a room on the third floor. The curtains moved and a slim figure appeared in the window. Great Aunt Saundra. Or was it great-grandmother? How was it possible that she… That they… Elizabeth recalled as a child, how she would drape a sheet around her neck in the fashion of a royal cloak and pretended she was a princess.

  At the crunch of a hooves on gravel, Elizbeth started from her thoughts and whipped her gaze toward the approaching rider. She drew a sharp breath at sight of Robert riding through the gate. In the last hours, Elizbeth had been too aware of the furtive glances from Aunt Davina. Even Margarette had been silent. They were both clearly worried about her, though she suspected Aunt Davina would be less tolerant were she to give in to her emotions.

  Robert didn’t look Elizbeth’s way. He brought his horse to a halt near Mister Haywood’s animal. The shirt he wore wasn’t stained with blood. She wondered where he’d gotten the clean shirt and ignored the real question that burned in her heart: what had he done with his brother’s body?

  “Matland, good,” Mister Haywood said.

  Elizbeth swiveled to see Mister Haywood coming back down the front steps, the door ajar behind him.

  He nodded toward them. “Help the ladies dismount.”

  Robert’s eyes, devoid of emotion, skimmed past her. He slid from his saddle, approached Margarette, grasped her waist, and lifted her down.

  Aunt Davina dismounted on her own. Mister Haywood approached Elizbeth.

  “Thank you,” she managed, through lips numb with misery.

  “My pleasure, Miss Elizbeth.” Mister Haywood offered his arm. He escorted her up the steps and inside.

  Mister Clark led them into the gold parlor, then disappeared back down the hall. Elizbeth had always liked this room. The soft gold tones of the furniture and drapes had always seemed so…majestic. Aunt Davina perched on the edge of a sofa, back straight. Margarette settled alongside their aunt, eyes downcast, hands clasped in her lap. Elizbeth took the final spot on the sofa, to Margarette’s left. The men remained standing. Robert didn’t so much as glance Elizbeth’s way.

  When Great Aunt Saundra entered, the men bowed. She angled her head with a grace unlike anything Elizbeth had ever seen. How had she missed the woman's regal manner? Elizbeth realized that, until that moment, a very big part of her still hadn't believe the story, but her great aunt, so majestic and stately, silently confirmed the truth. They truly were descendants of Henry Benedict Stuart, Cardinal Duke of York.

  Davina rose and met Aunt Saundra halfway across the room. Great Aunt Saundra drew her close and, for the second time in Elizbeth's life, she saw tears in Aunt Davina's eyes. The desire to cry rose again, but she forced control. She started when Margarette's fingers entwined with hers. She looked at her sister and her heart twisted at the tears that slid down Margarette’s cheeks. Elizbeth put an arm around her and pulled her close.

  Aunt Davina and Saundra parted. Her aunt returned to the couch and caught up Margarette’s free hand.

  Great Aunt Saundra turned to them. “Now, tell me, what has brought you here tonight?” Her eyes shifted to Robert, who still stood. “I suspect you are Luchd-Dìon.”

  “Aye, my lady,” Mister Haywood said. “That is Robert Matland, Daniel’s older brother.”

  Great Aunt Saundra’s gaze flicked about the room, obviously noting Daniel’s absence. “Henry feared there would be trouble upon his death. I hoped it would not come so soon.”

  Mister Haywood nodded. “I am afraid it has, my lady.”

  She looked about the room again. “Come, gentlemen, sit.” She settled into a large wing backed chair.

  The gentlemen hesitated, then sat in the two chairs near the divan and Great Aunt Saundra’s gaze fixed on Elizbeth and Margarette. “How you both have grown.” Her eyes, bright w
ith intelligence, clouded. “What is amiss, my dears?”

  Margarette yanked her hands free and jumped to her feet. “Papa intends to sell us to Frenchmen. One of our friends has already been killed, and Robert helped Father capture us. He locked us in the cellar.” Margarette launched herself across the room. She dropped to her knees on the carpet before Great Aunt Saundra, buried her face in their great aunt's lap, and bawled.

  The older woman patted Margarette’s back and made comforting shushing noises. She remained calm in the face of Margarette's storm, but Elizbeth didn't miss the concern in her eyes. Mister Haywood started to say something, but Great Aunt Saundra shook her head.

  “You are perfectly safe here, my dear,” she murmured.

  “You promise?” Margarette sniffled.

  “I promise.” Aunt Saundra placed a finger beneath Margarette’s chin and lifted her face. “You are tired?”

  Margarette shook her head. “Aunt Davina and Elizbeth are not tired, and neither am I.”

  “I am tired,” Aunt Davina said.

  “You are a woman grown at nineteen,” Great Aunt Saundra said to Margarette. “And you become more beautiful every day.” She touched Margarette’s cheek. “You look so much like Henry’s mother. You have her eyes.”

  “I do?” Margarette asked.

  “Indeed, you do. Now go back and sit with your aunt, dear, so we may speak.”

  “It is true, then?” Aunt Davina murmured as Margarette rose and returned to the couch. “You really are the Duchess of York and we are… Oh, Lord, I cannot say the words aloud.”

  Great Aunt Saundra smiled gently. “I pray you can forgive the deception.”

  Aunt Davina blinked. “Of course. It wasn’t practical for you to tell us.”

  “More than that,” Great Aunt Saundra said. “We couldn’t jeopardize your lives by telling you. Knowledge like this has a way of finding its way into the world. Your presence here now bears testament to that universal truth. Henry has been gone but two months, and already, without his towering resolve to stave off betrayal, you know the truth.”

  Aunt Davina nodded, though Elizbeth, again, feared she might cry.

  Something flickered in Great Aunt Saundra’s eyes. “My grandson has always had a propensity for self-indulgence, and he has not been the same since Maryanne’s death.”