Daring Lords and Ladies

by Emily Murdoch

  Alisabeth hurried to prop a limp arm over her shoulder. Together, they half carried, half dragged the unconscious Scot down the hall. “He’s lost much blood. I hope Calum finds Enid soon. She’s stitched up more gashes than rats in Edinburgh. Once she’s finished, I’ll make a honey poultice to keep out any infection.”

  By the time they reached the door, Lissie was sweating. Her brother-in-law was not a small man, though she was no weakling. They propped him on the edge of his bed then pulled him onto the mattress. A sheen of sweat covered his pale skin, and he mumbled incoherent words. Except one. Fenella.

  “Who is Fenella?” Gideon sat heavily on the edge of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Blasted head is killing me.”

  “I can give ye something for the head, but I’ve no idea who the woman is. Ye can wager I’ll find out once he’s lucid.” She smiled in anticipation of that subject. “It’s not a familiar name around these parts, so she must be from Glasgow.”

  “I’m just relieved you are not seriously harmed.” He brushed the hair back from her face and gently laid it across her shoulder. She shuddered. “It’s the first moment of true panic I’ve ever experienced.”

  She reached out and explored his swollen eye with a gentle finger. He grimaced and she snatched her hand back. But not before he caught it in his own. “Ye saved my life. I’m sorry for the battle scars we’ll be carrying for a while. My cousin is a despicable man.”

  “If you come to England, I’ll protect you with my life.” He kissed her palm, rolled up her fingers, and held her fist against his chest. “And I swear to you, I’ll be a proper gentleman. I promise to give you all the time you need to mourn. When you are ready, I will be waiting.”

  “And if I’m never ready?” She bit her trembling lip. His clear indigo eyes stole her breath and created odd stirrings in her belly.

  “Then I’ll work harder for your affections, but I’ll never pressure you. I want you to be happy, Lissie. I’ll do everything in my power to make that happen, whether it ends with me or another.”

  Her fingers traced his smooth, strong jawline. “I’ll hold ye to that.”

  “These fool men always stirrin’ up trouble.” Enid bustled into the room, a bag clutched in her plump hand, and her frizzy gray curls clinging to her round cheeks. She stopped with her hand on her heaving chest. “As soon as I catch my breath, we’ll begin. Tell me ye’ve the stomach for a little blood, my lord, for I’ll need yer help to hold the ox down.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Men are what their mothers made them.”

  Ralph Waldo Emerson

  Alisabeth woke with an aching head. She cringed as her tongue tentatively ran over her split lip. It had been a terrible night, yet a painful smile curved her lips. Throwing back the covers, her toes snuggled into the soft fur rug on the stone floor. She’d avoided any reflection of herself last night and was afraid to look in the mirror this morning.

  The cèilidh had continued long into the night. A grand gathering thrown by the MacNaughtons came once, maybe twice a year, and the villagers took full advantage of the festivities, food, and drink. No one had questioned Peigi’s excuses for their absence. Alisabeth hurried to dress. Her stomach growled with hunger.

  The water in the basin was cold and rejuvenated her tired face. The right side of her mouth was swollen and the top lip split open. If she withstood the discomfort and pressed her lips together, it didn’t look too horrible. She gingerly scrubbed her teeth, the new boar bristles rough against the inside of her bruised mouth. Then she brushed her hair and donned a fresh chemise, deep violet bodice, and skirt.

  The main hall had been set up with food for anyone spending the night. It wasn’t unusual to find leftover guests after a cèilidh, and especially after a wedding. Peigi had arranged for a private breakfast in the sitting room to avoid prying eyes and questions. On the way, Alisabeth stopped in to check on Lachlan. He was propped up against a mountain of pillows, his broad chest bare, and a sheet pulled up to his stomach. His auburn waves clung to his neck and shoulders, his skin shiny with sweat. He opened his deep blue eyes and grinned.

  “My leg’s intact, darlin’, but I’ll still need ye to fetch the whiskey.”

  “Och, you are hopeless.” Relief swept through her at the sound of his cheerful voice. “Ye were half delirious when Enid pushed me out the door. I was worried the fever would take ye during the night.”

  “I’m not ready to raid the neighbor’s pasture, but I’m better than I was.” He held out a hand. “Come and sit with me, sweet Lissie. I’ve missed ye.”

  “I’m sorry my cousin has brought these troubles on the MacNaughtons.” She settled next to him on the soft mattress and laced her fingers with his. Tears of embarrassment and regret stung the back of her eyes. “How is yer wound?”

  “I’ve had the best care. No one wields a needle better than Enid. Yer poultice will keep away infection. I’ll be up in no time.” He pulled back the sheet to show her the bandage above his knee and wiggled his toes. Pink stained through the linen wrapped around his muscled thigh. “And no apologies for that rancid cousin. There’s at least one in every clan. Ye canna blame yerself.”

  Alisabeth nodded, not trusting her voice.

  “When will ye be leaving?”

  “Do ye think I should go to England?” Her gaze locked on him. “How will I wake up each morning without this family around me?”

  “Aunt Maeve will be there. She loves ye now like we do, I see it in her eyes. Ye willna be lonely.” His thumb rubbed the side of her hand in comfort. “And Gideon will be there to take care of ye. He’s a man of his word.”

  She searched his eyes for any trace of resentment but found only sympathy and affection. It had been an awkward yet healing month until last night.

  “Lissie, life takes unexpected turns. We must be ready to snatch happiness in a moment because it may be our last.”

  “But I would never—”

  He held up his other hand. “I’m only saying we love ye, lass. Death can come in the blink of an eye. If ye have the chance for some joy, take it. No one will think the worse of ye for it. Do ye understand?”

  She nodded and sniffed.

  “Good. Now find me a bottle of whiskey to keep me company and some of those fat, buttery biscuits ye baked.”

  ***

  Gideon licked the remnants of ham from his fingers and cursed as salt seeped into his raw knuckles. A swollen face wasn’t unusual after a match at Gentleman Jackson’s, but he hadn’t fought without boxing gloves since university, and then only during drunken brawls.

  “My poor boy,” his mother crooned as she entered the small sitting room. “Your face looks worse than it did last night.”

  “Wait until the green and yellow replace the black and blue. However, I can open this eye today so I’m counting my blessings.” He accepted a kiss on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re here before Alisabeth. I’m afraid she knows about our plans to bring her home. Lachlan mentioned it.”

  “And is she amenable?” Maeve poured tea and refilled his cup.

  “Livid is a better word. She’s proof all Scots have a temper.” He chuckled when his mother opened her mouth to argue. “I think with her cousin in hiding, she’ll see the wisdom in it. And she’s fond of you, Mama.”

  “I’m verra fond of her.” She scooped up soft butter from a bowl, lathered it over a biscuit, and chewed thoughtfully. “The man is a lunatic to think he could get away with murder right under our noses. His poor wife. She must be mortified.”

  “Or relieved that he’s gone.” Alisabeth stood at the door, dressed simply with her thick umber waves pulled back with a pretty ribbon. He recognized the remorse in her eyes as she scanned his face. “Does it hurt?”

  “Only if I wink at pretty ladies.”

  “I do believe my son is acquiring a sense of humor. Thank ye, Lissie.” His mother chortled. “So, my dear, will ye be joining us for the winter?”

  They were both surprised at her immed
iate response. “I will if ye’ll still have me.”

  Gideon watched her walk to the sideboard and ladle some porridge into a bowl. He wanted to howl and kiss her sweet swollen mouth. Maybe he had inherited more than just his grandfather’s physical traits.

  “Excellent. It will be a blessing for me to have the company.” Maeve sighed. “I didn’t realize how much I missed female companionship until my girls married and left.”

  “We plan on departing the day after tomorrow. Will that give you enough time? We can delay a few days, but Grandfather feels we shouldn’t dally.” Gideon didn’t want to rush her into a decision and regret it once in England.

  “I dinna have much to bring. I’ve told my parents and will be able to say my farewells before they leave.” She hesitated. “I’m afraid I willna be dressed as well as the ladies in England. I dinna want to embarrass ye, but I’ve had no need of fineries here at MacNaughton Castle.”

  Maeve beamed. “It will be my pleasure to take ye shopping in London. My dressmaker will be delighted to have such a beautiful customer.”

  “Do ye think I should wear my mourning veil while we travel? There may be questions when people see the condition of our faces.” Alisabeth smirked. “They’ll be saying Gideon got worse than he gave.”

  He let out a loud guffaw, happy to see her humor back. “Just until we reach Glasgow. Lachlan wants me to check on the mill since he’ll be delayed. I arranged for my solicitor to purchase a townhouse there, so we’ll have only staff to worry about. Your lip should be quite healed by then.”

  ***

  Gideon was determined to keep his promise and maintain a respectable distance from Lissie. He preferred to ride anyway and knew his mother would enjoy the female conversation. She would educate her new companion on London society and the best ways to navigate the treacherous maze of the beau monde.

  As the hours then days passed and the Highlands faded behind them, a melancholy overtook him. A part of him did belong to this land. His stomach knotted as he wondered how this trip, and all he learned, would affect his future. But he’d enjoyed his time in Scotland and promised Mama a return visit. Would Lissie be eager to go back or come to love Stanfeld Manor as he did? Only time would tell.

  The sight of Glasgow in the distance cheered him. A comfortable bed, good food, and excellent brandy should be waiting for them. They entered the city, and his mother poked her head out of the carriage. The groom sitting in the rear box smiled and shook his head. The servants were used to the countess’ unusual ways. It was late morning and the city was bustling.

  It had been several years since he’d visited. He was surprised and pleased at the growth. New streets had been added, accommodating thriving businesses. People crowded the main thoroughfares and alleyways. As they made their way to the residential area, they came upon new housing under construction. Investments were prime, and it seemed business-minded men were getting in on the boom. The once small town of Glasgow would soon challenge Edinburgh in commerce and population.

  The three-story townhouse of red brick overlooked the fashionable west-end neighborhood. Gideon had sent one of the liverymen ahead to warn the staff of their arrival. A butler and housemaid opened the front door and two grooms waited on the steps. Dismounting, he tossed his reins to one of the boys and watched as the ladies exited the carriage.

  His mother shaded her eyes with one hand and peered up. “So this is our new house?”

  “Yes, I hope you approve. Shall we go in?” Gideon inclined his head to the staff and made introductions. Maeve began giving orders and Gideon extended his arm to Alisabeth. “Have you been to Glasgow before?”

  “I’ve never been more than twenty-five miles from my home or MacNaughton Castle. There are so many people and carriages and horses.” She shook her head. “I think it’s verra grand for a visit, but I prefer the countryside.”

  “I can only imagine what you’ll think of London.” Inside the entryway, staff took their hats and coats while servants began unloading baggage. “We’ll be here a couple days and then continue our journey. Would you like to visit the mill with me? I’m sure Mama will not let me out the door without her.”

  “I would love to see it. I’ve also read the new Botanic Gardens are beautiful.”

  “Then I will be certain you do not miss it.”

  ***

  The carriage wound its way through the city streets toward the great Clive River, stopping in front of a huge warehouse. It was Alisabeth’s first look at the MacNaughton Textile Company. The dreary building, tinged with smoke and age, resembled more of a prison on the outside. Inside it was a hectic production. Two rows of power looms filled the huge space with mostly men manning the machines. Older children scurried in the aisles carrying buckets or baskets of bobbins. Lissie had only seen weaving done by hand, and marveled at the speed of the looms. The compact steel frames glinted in the sunlight pouring in from the large floor windows, their deafening mechanical clickety-clack drowning out any conversation by the employees.

  “Welcome! It’s good to see ye again, lass,” boomed a voice over the machinery. Colin, one of the weavers who had brought Ian’s body home, waited while Alisabeth made introductions. After explaining how the looms worked, he held out his arms and shooed them down the aisle. “This side of the factory is the wool shed, with two other sections for cotton and flax.”

  Alisabeth noticed several very young boys fetching items for the adults or standing by the shuttles, ready to replace the wefts with more thread. “Those wee ones canna be more than six or seven years old,” she murmured to Maeve as they entered a hallway. Colin shut a thick oak door, muffling the clamor of the workroom.

  The older woman’s eyes narrowed as she questioned the supervisor. “Ye employ such wee ones?”

  Colin nodded to Maeve and pushed a roughened hand through his silver-streaked hair. “Families need the income, my lady. Contrary to the last supervisor, I make sure they’re in positions that willna cause them harm. There are enough accidents in the workplace without adding a child’s death to my conscience.”

  They proceeded up a flight of stairs and another large room. Rows of handlooms filled the space and all the workers were women. “They used to do the weaving at home, but it’s cheaper to have them here. We get a solid day’s work and higher productivity, and they receive a steady income.”

  The back of the warehouse was filled with bolts of cloth. “Before you leave, I’d like to discuss expanding into silk. It’s extremely profitable…”

  Lissie wandered away from the conversation and over to a dusty window, wiped at it with the side of her fist, and peered out. Below to her left, a ship bobbed in the choppy waves of the Clyde. Workers loaded crates and bags onto carts and wheeled them off the dock. To her right, she could see part of the giant water wheel, churning the river to produce the energy needed for production. It was so much more fascinating to see the process rather than read or be told about it.

  Alisabeth vaguely heard Gideon retelling the events that led to Lachlan’s injury and felt three pairs of eyes on her when she turned from the window. One drop of sympathy would be too much. She was tired of pity and wanted to put it behind her. Instead, the tall Scot grinned at her.

  Relief swept over her and she replied tartly, “He tells ye I almost get my throat cut and ye’re laughing? I hate to think what we need to do to make ye cry, mon.”

  “The image of Alisabeth Craigg, brandishing a gun like a highwayman, will be stuck in my head for a week. Ye do us proud, lass. I’m sorry to have missed it.” He winked at her. “They dinna enjoy the same adventures down here in the Lowlands. Too much like the English, ye ken.”

  “I feel I should take offense to that,” laughed Gideon. “It was quite an evening. I’ll admit it stirred my blood.” His gaze caught hers, sharing a memory between them that warmed her. “I seem to be more my mother’s son than I realized.”

  “I hate knowing the scoundrel is out there,” Maeve said. “If they find him, he’ll
be on the end of rope or a boat to the penal colonies.”

  “Shall we go down to the office?” Colin asked. “I can show ye the accounts and last year’s profits. Our bookkeeper is quite good and she already has an estimate for the rest of this year’s income.” His pride in the factory brought a smile to her lips. The man knew his job and worked hard.

  “She?” asked Maeve. “Ye have a woman working on the books?”

  “Aye, Miss Franklin is a quandary.” He shook his head. “She can figure numbers in her head quicker than a spider spins a web.”

  The office was large with a chipped walnut desk and several mismatching chairs. One wall held shelves lined with books on textiles, weaving, and dyes. There were texts filled with illustrations of different types of machinery and others with various cloth samples. She and Maeve flipped through the squares of linen, cotton, and wool fabric as the men looked over the accounts.

  “Lachlan will be another few weeks, but it seems you have everything in order. Well done, sir.” Gideon shook the supervisor’s hand.

  “May I take some samples with me?” asked Maeve. “I plan on making some changes at the townhouse my son purchased.”

  “Of course. Let me know what ye like, and I’ll arrange for the locals to take care of any work ye decide to do.”

  The ladies tied their hats on as they prepared to leave. A pretty young woman with pale blonde hair and soft gray eyes knocked at the office entrance. “Fenella, I’m just seeing the owners out. I’ll be with ye in a moment.” She nodded and retreated from the doorway.

  Alisabeth studied the woman as they passed, searching her memory for that name. Climbing into the carriage, she snapped her finger. “That’s it!”

  “That’s what?” asked Gideon.

  “Remember when Lachlan was incoherent with fever? He called out the name Fenella several times.” She tapped her lip. “I wonder…”

  Maeve laughed. “There may be more than one Fenella in Scotland, my dear. Are ye matchmaking?”