Daring Lords and Ladies

by Emily Murdoch

  “I have a hunch there’s been a match already.”

  She and Gideon exchanged a look then a grin. So Lachlan’s mystery woman was a clerk for the MacNaughtons. And a pretty one at that.

  They enjoyed a quiet meal at the townhouse that evening. Maeve asked Lissie’s opinion of fabrics and other changes to the townhouse. “I hope to spend more time here. It’s a perfect halfway point for my parents when I canna go all the way home.”

  During the next two days, Gideon met with Colin and learned more of the “dull” aspects of the MacNaughton Textiles, as he put it. He also took her and Maeve to the Botanic Gardens as promised. The last day, Colin arrived and the foursome went to Glasgow Green. It was a beautiful park, renovated after the war to provide hundreds of jobs for the unemployed. Traveling actors had set up a geggy, and small boys crisscrossed through the crowd announcing the showtime. The large wood frame covered with canvas would hold a large crowd.

  “Are you interested in watching the performance?” asked Gideon. “I realize this may come as a surprise, but I enjoy comedies.”

  Alisabeth giggled. “Then ye’ll be disappointed. These troupes act out Scotland’s great stories and portray our most tragic historical figures.” She took his arm, following Colin and Maeve into the tent. “So ye’ll enjoy it even more, I’m certain.”

  However, the opening act had everyone laughing as a man in a short kilt attempted to play the bagpipes and dance a jig at the same time. He slipped, fell onto his side, his legs still pumping to the beat and never missing a note. He followed the act with a melancholy ballad describing the rise and fall of William Wallace. A pretty young girl of around twelve joined him to sing the lyrics and left half the crowd wiping away a tear.

  That evening, Maeve kissed her son’s cheek and retired, leaving them alone in the library. Gideon sipped brandy and they both sat in comfortable silence, gazes and thoughts lost in the crackling fire.

  His voice startled her after the long quiet spell. “Are you enjoying yourself so far?”

  “Aye, verra much. I enjoy seeing the world outside my childhood home.” She smiled. “As a girl, I dreamt of becoming a pirate and sailing around the world. Silly, I know.”

  “My father would agree with you. And at one time, I may have also. But my views seem to be shifting in my old age.” He gave her a wicked smile. “I believe you may be the culprit behind my change of heart.”

  “So I should become a pirate and raid ships and collect booty?”

  “I believe you are an intelligent and clever woman, who is capable of anything she sets her mind to. And I hope I’m around to see you accomplish whatever that may be, sweet Lissie.” His blue eyes sparkled with warmth and affection but when he spoke her name, they darkened to midnight blue.

  As she closed her eyes that night, his voice whispered to her. Sweet Lissie. It caressed her skin, enveloped her until she felt safe and protected and drifted into a dreamless sleep. Sweet Lissie.

  Chapter Ten

  “He that climbs the tall tree has won right to the fruit, he that leaps the wide gulf should prevail in his suit.”

  Sir Walter Scott

  Late October

  Stanfeld Manor

  His heart swelled as Alisabeth gazed upon Stanfeld Manor. She and Gideon had ridden to his favorite hilltop, overlooking the property and the best view of the house. It had been two weeks since they’d returned to England. Two weeks of walks and rides and evenings full of lively and intelligent conversation. Two weeks of getting to know Lissie, and through her, a side of his mother he’d never known. Two weeks of pure joy and pure torment. He’d give his title to make the earth stop turning, to suspend this time with the woman who was becoming more dear to him than life itself. Yet soon the world would crash in on their idyllic sanctuary. His sister arrived at the end of the week, and the dressmaker would call in the morning.

  Strangers might create tension, cause her smile to falter or her confidence to waver. Gideon didn’t want anything to break the fragile bond he’d worked so hard to forge. He had watched Alisabeth bloom like a winter rose, peeking out at first, testing the air, and then spreading those glorious petals. She filled his neat and tidy world with color he hadn’t realized was lacking. In return, she trusted him to introduce her to new things, new adventures without condescension. His arrogance vanished in her presence.

  “It is the opposite of MacNaughton Castle, so fairytale-like. Each time I cross that bridge, I feel as if I’m a princess entering my royal courtyard.” She smiled at him, those honey eyes warm and soft. “I can see why ye are so proud of it.”

  “Ah, that is where we differ. I do love this place. It’s my childhood home. But there is something steady and dependable, practical really, that draws me to Grandfather’s keep.” He enjoyed these discussions. Her opinions were thoughtful and often revealed another irresistible layer of her personality. “Perhaps it’s what the place symbolizes—centuries of survival and family. So much history imbedded in that stone.”

  “And voices demanding to be heard still whisper in those walls, if ye take the time to listen. Unhappy souls needing their stories told so they may be at peace.” She tilted her head and eyed him thoughtfully. “Do ye believe in such things?”

  “I really don’t know anymore. The last months have taught me that things are not always what they seem.” He shrugged. “Mama says an open mind would serve me well. Yet it’s hard to ignore the foundation on which you were raised.”

  “Aren’t we the philosophical ones so early in the day?” Lissie pulled lightly on the reins, squeezed the mare’s sides, and expertly turned the horse on its hindquarters to face him. She gave him a brilliant smile. “I’ll race ye down the hill and to that modern bridge. Ready, set—”

  Little Bit, his tail in the air and his paws digging furiously at something under a large oak, stopped at the familiar words and joined the pair. Gideon chuckled. “He thinks he can win, you know. I must admit the mongrel is surprisingly fast for his size. Do you miss the deerhounds?”

  “Terribly, though this wee scruff is a fine substitute. And he fits on my lap, which was never an option with Brownie or Black Angus.” Her eyes went wide, and her mouth made an “O.”

  “And when was Little Bit on your lap?” The dog slept in the barn and wasn’t allowed inside. At least, not before the arrival of one dark-haired, golden-eyed Scot.

  “Weel, I may have let him sneak past Sanders once or twice. And I may have let him keep me company while ye were out with yer steward, and yer ma was busy with correspondence.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief, her long slender finger tapping her full lips as if in concentration. “But I canna say for sure.”

  Gideon laughed and shook his head. “You have a short memory for one so young. I’ll be surprised if you can remember your name by next year.”

  The dog barked, his tail wagging so fast Gideon almost felt a breeze. “Fine, we’ll race. Ready, set,”—he kicked Verity and bolted ahead—“go!”

  “Ah, the devil take ye and yer cheatin’ ways,” she cried from behind him.

  The two horses galloped down the hill and raced across the field. Both took the hedge without issue, but as they neared the bridge, Gideon heard a scream. His heart plunged into his stomach, and he pulled Verity up. Lissie and her mare flew past him, laughter drifting behind her. With a curse and a reluctant grin, he clucked to the gelding and caught up to the girl and the dog waiting under the yew tree.

  “Two can play at that game, my lord,” she chortled as he tried to look indignant. “Never underestimate yer opponent. Calum taught me that.”

  “Wise words I should heed.” He bowed, thinking how delectable she looked in his mother’s riding habit. She drew in deep breaths, and the forest green jacket and skirt that hugged her curves accentuated her heaving chest. Gideon pulled his gaze back to her face, as he had been careful to do every day since he’d made the decision to marry her. “Even the dog beat me!”

  He dismounted then moved to help her down.
Before he could reach her, Alisabeth flipped her leg over the saddle and slid to the ground with her backside to him. Good God, this will be a long six months, he thought with a grin and a grimace. That was the earliest he could begin a courtship, and he hoped to have already won her affection. After that, he’d woo her until he captured her heart. Until then, he would remain a perfect gentleman if it killed him.

  The horses bent their necks and munched greedily on the last of the summer grass. “Why does yer ma think I need so many dresses? I canna wear more than one at a time. Three or four should be more than enough.”

  “Ah, my dear girl. If you were in London, you would need a morning dress, an afternoon dress, and of course ball dresses. And a chit cannot wear the same dress in the same company. In the country, and since you are in mourning, your entertainment is limited.” He paused, cursing himself when he saw a momentary shadow cross her face. “Our social schedule will be limited to local guests and small dinner parties. Perhaps, if you are very well behaved, some dancing. We do not have to follow protocol to the letter if there’s no one to witness our impropriety.”

  The light was back in her smile, and the heaviness in his chest eased.

  “There is always a darker side to every cloud, I suppose. And is throwing propriety to the wind part of yer new open-mindedness?”

  “Perhaps. Along with the opportunity to teach a beautiful woman how to waltz. It’s a very romantic dance.” He wiggled his eyebrows, trying to keep the tone light. His body was quickly responding to the thought of holding her close.

  “I look forward to the lesson, my lord.” She pointed to a carriage parked in the courtyard. “We have guests. It’s quite fancy for a dressmaker. But if she makes such extensive wardrobes for all the girls coming out, I imagine she’s quite plump in the pocket.” She added her best English accent to the last bit of cant.

  Gideon chuckled. Her imitation of an English noble was quite good. The woman had a knack at mockery that made one guffaw rather than glare. Perhaps it was her ability to laugh at herself that endeared her to everyone. The servants adored her, and she’d already charmed her way into the kitchen. Even his stodgy butler Sanders seemed smitten with her, a crooked smile on his face whenever she cast a smile his way.

  They walked across the bridge, the clatter of hooves echoing in the quiet morning air. He studied the conveyance. “That’s the Marlen crest. Marietta has arrived early.” She probably ordered the carriage as soon as she got the letter, he thought with a grin. His mother must have mentioned their guest and his interest in her.

  Lissie slowed her step. “Does she know about…everything?”

  “Mama wrote her and told her of our trip. But I’m sure she’ll have plenty of questions so she can fend off the on-dits when she’s in London. Rumors have a way of slinking into the parlors and ballrooms of that city.” He winked at her. “Should we give them something to gossip about?”

  “Ye are incorrigible, Gideon. I’m anxious to meet yer sister now and see who she takes after. It sounds like yer ma, or at least I’m hoping.” She grinned. “Ye may be sorely outnumbered with opinions when we gather around the hearth tonight.”

  “Nothing would please me more.” To his surprise, he meant it. He handed off the horses to the stable boy. Lissie thanked the groom who had followed them as a chaperone. No one and no deed escaped her notice.

  Sanders greeted them at the door. Alisabeth stood on her tiptoes, placed her hand on his shoulder, and whispered something in his ear. He nodded, turned a bright red, and mumbled, “Any time, my lady.” Then to Gideon, “My lord, Lady Marlen has arrived. She and the countess are having breakfast in the dining room.”

  His stomach growled at the mention of food, and he pushed Lissie down the hall. “Are you flirting with my butler?”

  “I only thanked him for the advice he’s given me. I dinna ken the intricacies of yer world, and he’s been verra kind to guide me.” She gave him a side look as they entered the room. “I’m determined not to embarrass ye when visitors come calling.”

  “You are delightful, my dear, and would never be an embarrassment,” replied his mother from the long table. She and Marietta stood and Gideon made the introductions.

  Etta’s sharp eyes surveyed the widow, and then she held out her hand with a warm smile. “It is a pleasure to meet you. Mama’s letter had me intrigued.” She glanced at Gideon with a smirk as she perused Alisabeth. “She is a beauty.”

  Lissie blushed and thanked her. “And ye take after yer mother, I see, not afraid to speak yer mind. I was hoping as much.”

  Etta’s profile in an emerald green dress showed a rounding belly, the white satin ribbon emphasizing the bump. “I hope I didn’t irritate you, Gideon, when I changed my plans. I know you don’t like last minute changes, but if I waited too long, Bradford—that’s my husband, Viscount Marlen,” she explained to Lissie, “would not have let me come. He has secured the best physicians for the birthing. No country doctors for his first child.”

  “The babe is expected in February?” Gideon didn’t like the thought of any of his sisters in childbirth. Too many infants and women died in the process. Though his mother had survived labor seven times, only four had survived. “I will do my best to get Mama to London.”

  “I know you will.” Etta patted his cheek and then ignored him. “Do you want to change before the interrogation begins? Or would you prefer some porridge and biscuits to bolster your strength so we can get started right away? I want to know all about you and Scotland and…”

  His sister linked arms with Lissie, and they moved to the table. Gideon thought of his grandfather’s scotch and wondered if he’d need his own fortitude bolstered to withstand the barrage of females.

  ***

  Alisabeth realized her worries had been for naught. Etta was as warm and open as Maeve. She was also full of energy and never seemed to stop moving, even in her condition. Embroidery held her attention a scant fifteen minutes. When she moved on to a book or pastels, her foot tamped as if her mind was already thinking about what to tackle next. There was no instrument in the music room Marietta had not mastered. Accomplished did not begin to describe her.

  “Those talents are due to her inability to sit still,” Maeve said one night after Etta had played the violin, the harp, and the pianoforte. “My daughter must be busy all the time. She inherited her father’s stubbornness and never ceases until she’s mastered whatever is her latest fancy.”

  “I do believe you’re in possession of that tenacious quality yourself, dear Mama,” Gideon said as he leaned down to kiss her cheek. He grinned at the nasty look she cast him in reward.

  She and Gideon’s sister had become fast friends after a week. The family had gathered in the drawing room again, enjoying a light melody by Etta on the lute. Rain splattered the windowpanes, and an occasional streak of lightning added a flash of light upon the room.

  “Whoever was responsible for my single-mindedness, it certainly came in handy when I pursued my husband.” She positioned her fingers again on the strings of the lute and played a little more.

  “An unfair match to be sure. The poor sot never stood a chance. Once Etta decided Marlen would be her husband, she was relentless. She was at every event he attended, wearing her most seductive gowns, tripping in front of him, spilling champagne down his waistcoat…” Gideon put his hand to one side of his mouth and whispered loudly, “I think he realized it was easier to give in than to fight her.”

  Lissie pressed her lips together as Etta continued to play but softly snuck up behind her brother. She loved watching their good-natured teasing.

  Thump! “Ouch!” Gideon rubbed his head.

  “He succumbed to my feminine charms, you dolt.” She reached up and twisted the hairs at his nape, the gold specks in her light brown eyes flashing. “Admit it.” She yanked and his head tipped back.

  “Fine, your exquisite manners won him over,” he said with gritted teeth but winked at Lissie. When Etta let go, he jibed, “An
d that is an example of her infamous charm!”

  “Children, children,” called Maeve in mock severity. “I shall send you to your rooms. Gideon, why don’t you sing?”

  “I think Etta should sing. That would chase the devil from his den.”

  His sister confided to Alisabeth. “I’m the only one in the family who cannot sing. I sound like a sheep giving birth in a blizzard.”

  “And how many sheep have ye witnessed giving birth in a blizzard?” Lissie quipped.

  “Touché,” said Gideon, an appreciative gleam in his eye.

  “It was a stormy winter’s night when I helped Brownie and Black Angus into the world.” She explained to Marietta, “They’re yer grandfather’s favorite dogs—Scottish deerhounds.”

  “What odd names,” she remarked. “One sounds as if it belongs to a smaller dog and the other to a highwayman.”

  Alisabeth laughed. “They’re faeries, ye ken. One is sweet and the other is Death.”

  “Come sit by the fire and tell them about our Scottish faeries.” Maeve patted the cushion next to her on the settee. “I want my grandchildren to know all of our history.”

  Lissie sat next to her and smoothed out the sienna lace covering the muslin of her new gown. Maeve had remarked how it set off her cognac eyes. Well, how best to begin with an audience who had no knowledge of them? “The Wee Folk have been part of Scotland since time began. There are both benevolent and dangerous faeries so they’re not creatures to call up on a whim.”

  Her audience nodded and assumed a more serious expression while Maeve chuckled at the reprimand.

  “Our girl Brownie is like her namesakes, the sweetest, kindest of all the faeries. Odd little dwarves with shiny black eyes, pointed ears, and long fingers. They canna stand liars, cheats, misers, or cats.”

  “Cats?” asked Etta, her brow arched as her fingers drummed the armrest.

  “They hate cats, drink milk and ale, and love honey and cake. If you think a Brownie has come upon yer house, check the attic or cellar.”