“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” replied Sunderland, a gleam in his black eyes. “So this is the exquisite creature who bewitched Stanfeld.”
She blushed. Maeve had warned her that rumors spread through London faster than a plague on a ship. “I’m afraid I canna take the credit. It was the faeries that bewitched him. I just happened to be the first female he laid eyes on after they cast their spell.”
Both men laughed and Gideon smiled good-naturedly. “I suggest you keep her away from Grace. Your wife will have her and the faeries casting out the ghosts at Sunderland Castle.”
“Ghosts?” That garnered Lissie’s attention. “Your home is haunted?”
“By one of my ancestors, it seems. My dear wife has been pouring through books to find out how to send them on their way.” Sunderland ran a hand through his raven hair. “ In the meantime, she’s managed to make friends with them. Or so she tells me.”
“How do you make—”
“There ye are, lass. Ye’re harder to track than a deer with wings.” Lachlan’s voice boomed from the doorway. “Come and give yer handsome brother a hug.”
Alisabeth almost ran to Lachlan and threw her arms around him, squeezing him tightly. “How are ye, ye big brute? Any limp?”
“Nay, I could race ye around Hyde Park on the morrow.” He looked around, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief at the stares they were receiving. “It appears affection is not shown between family at parties. Or perhaps in all of England?”
She giggled. “Perhaps not with the same enthusiasm as we Scots share. But I must say, ye are the best dressed man in the whole of London.”
Lachlan patted his dress sporran, hung about his waist with a silver chain, and then pointed his toe to show off his polished black buckle shoes, fine tartan hose, and silver garter flashes. With a grin, he looked around the room. “I’ll have to agree with ye, lass. I am indeed.”
“When did you arrive? Did you settle in at the townhouse?” Gideon asked as they shook hands. “I thought perhaps you ran into some bad weather.”
“I arrived late last night and didna want to bother ye. I took a room at Limmer’s and finished up some business this afternoon.” He winked at Lissie. “Now I’m ready for some entertainment and a meal.”
“You’re in luck. It’s almost time to eat.” Gideon slapped his cousin on the back just as dinner was announced.
The guests began moving toward the door when Lissie heard Lachlan swear under his breath. Before she could ask what was wrong, he was striding across the room. His wife Fenella stood in the far corner, her eyes darting around the room as if looking for a way to escape.
“Did ye ken Lachlan’s wife came with him?” she asked Gideon.
He squinted and took in the woman shaking her head at Lachlan. Angry tears shone in her eyes, and she shook her head violently, sending her white blonde curls flying against her wet cheeks. Then the Scott turned on his heel and marched from the room, fury reddening his face.
“What was that?” she asked as the woman ran through another door, escaping the curious eyes of the guests.
“I would venture to guess my son-in-law just discovered how disobedient his wife can be. She’s with child now, and he didn’t want her traveling,” replied Sir Horace. “If you’ll excuse me?”
“I never thought I would see the mighty Lachlan brought down by a female. He’s certainly met his match.” Gideon, an impish grin on his face, placed her hand in the crook of his elbow as the older gentleman followed his daughter from the room.
“This will set the London tongues wagging about your Scottish relatives,” Lissie said with a laugh.
“Mama always said if you want to avoid humdrum, invite a MacNaughton.”
Chapter Thirteen
“A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is brave five minutes longer.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Late March 1820
Stanfeld Estate
“I didn’t want to interrupt your breakfast, my lady, but a letter arrived in the post for you.” Sanders placed a silver tray in front of Lissie. “Since it was from Scotland, I thought you’d like to see it immediately.”
She touched his arm as he drew away. “Thank ye, Sanders. Ye are so kind to me.”
“Of course, my lady,” he mumbled, red seeping into the deep crevices of his neck and cheeks.
“The only other person who has ever been able to make that man blush was my little sister, Helen,” said Gideon with a shake of his head. “And it was her lack of manners rather than her sweet ways that caused it.”
Alisabeth ran a knife under the wax. “Odd, it’s a plain seal, not the Craigg’s or MacNaughton’s.” She opened the paper and scanned to the bottom. Apprehension skittered up her spine. “It’s from Colin.”
“Why would he be writing to you?” Gideon put down his cup of coffee and leaned forward. “There must be something wrong.”
Lissie read the words, her voice unsteady.
March 23, 1820
Madam,
If ye are still willing to help us, come to Glasgow. Merchants gather to demand representation, and skilled artisans cry for fair wages. The turmoil is creating mobs of angry, hungry folk with Lachlan in the thick of it. The political group he’s involved with is talking rebellion, and I fear for him. A late blizzard hit the Highlands, so Calum canna come. I’m not in the position to advise the lad, but he’ll listen to ye, his brother’s widow.
Colin
“How old is that letter?” Maeve asked from the doorway, her face pale as ivory.
“About a week.” Lissie stood, her brow furrowed with concern. “Maeve, you dinna look well.”
Gideon was at her side, helping her to a chair. Lissie poured more tea, irritated with her unsteady hand.
Gideon saw her distress and took the cup, handing it to his mother. “Drink this, Mama. Did you not sleep well?”
“I had a dream, a terrible dream.” Fear shone in her blue eyes. “It was a double hanging. I dinna know the first man but the second was Lachlan.”
Lissie sank into the chair next to Maeve, her hand over her mouth. Peigi had told her about Maeve’s visions. She did not doubt this one, though there was hesitation in Gideon’s eyes. Not Lachlan too. They canna take both grandsons, her mind screamed.
“Let’s not jump to any conclusions.” The earl gritted his teeth.
“I must leave for Glasgow immediately,” Lissie said in a raw voice, the panic rising in her throat. “I must pack.”
“I will go with ye, lass.” Maeve went to rise from the chair.
Gideon put a hand on his mother’s shoulder. “You will do no such thing. I will go.”
“Lachlan may not listen to ye, Gideon. If the English have anything to do with this, he could question your loyalty.” Maeve’s eyes were hard. “We must all go.”
“I’m sorry but I cannot allow it. It’s too dangerous.” He bent and kissed the top of her head. “Have faith in me, Mama. I’ll have Sanders begin preparations now.”
Several hours later, Gideon pulled her into his arms. “I will see that no harm comes to Lachlan. Promise me you will look out for Mama.”
Alisabeth nodded and he pressed his lips to hers. A soft, sweet kiss that made her long for a future and a family with him. She blinked back the tears. What if he could not save Lachlan, or Gideon was pulled into the fray? He nuzzled her neck and she breathed in his familiar scent of orange and spice.
“I love you, my sweet Lissie,” he whispered in her ear, his warm breath tickling her skin.
She clutched his great coat. “Dinna go, Gideon.” Throwing her arms around him, she kissed him back with a desperate passion. “I love ye with all my soul. My heart will wither away and die without ye.”
He grinned, mounted Verity, and tipped his hat. “I’ll see you soon, love.”
Lissie watched him ride away until he was only a speck on the road. She walked back inside to a flurry of servants, and Maeve shouting orders over the commotion.
“What is happening?” Alisabeth watched the woman who had appeared pale as death a few hours before. “What are ye doing?”
“Packing, of course. I’m still the Countess of Stanfeld, lass, and my son willna be telling me what I can and canna do.” She patted Lissie’s cheek. “Now hurry, the carriage will be around soon.”
***
April 1, 1820
Glasgow, Scotland
A chill ran down Alisabeth’s spine as the carriage moved along a busy Glasgow street. Tension hung in the air, groups of men gathered in front of taverns and spoke in low voices. Others paired off in alleys with furtive glances to the side, as if a threat might come from any direction. Danger permeated the air, and she gripped Maeve’s hand. Signs were tacked up on street corners:
STRIKE IN SCOTLAND
BE HEARD ON 3 APRIL
A Committee for Forming a Provisional Government
“I dinna understand. Ian said he was part of a peaceful group. But these signs are demanding artisans to strike on Monday.” She rubbed her temples. “It doesna make any sense.”
“Gideon canna fight this. It’s been brewing for too long. These men are making a stand, and I doubt the English will let it remain peaceful.” Maeve peered out the window as they left the congested business area and entered the residential area. Their townhouse came into view. “It looks like Gideon went straight to the mill. Good, we’ll change and do the same.”
“He will be verra angry,” Lissie said, almost smiling as she thought of the tick in his strong, handsome jaw when he was irritated. “Please let me take the blame for this. I dinna want him upset with ye.”
“Nonsense. It was my idea and I take full responsibility.” The footman opened the door and barely had time to put down the steps before Maeve issued orders and rushed inside, ignoring the shocked look of the servants. “Unload the baggage and place it in our rooms. We will be here at least a week so send for extra help. When our maids, tell them we need assistance straight away.” With that she headed up the stairs.
Lissie gathered her skirts and tried to keep up. “Do we have a plan?”
“Of course. We’ll go to the mill and speak with Colin.” She grinned. “Once we have the details, we will speak with Gideon.”
“And if we see Gideon first?” That awful knot was back in her stomach. “He’ll turn us on our heels and send us right back to England.”
“He’ll have to carry both of us out if my intuition is correct about you. We’ve come this far, we canna stop now.” She turned at the doorway of her chambers after shooing in the lady’s maid. “We leave in ten minutes.”
The entire city seemed poised on the edge of a precipice. If someone had lit a match, she was sure Glasgow would have exploded into bits. There were more signs posted by the Committee. Some had been torn down and ripped to pieces. Alisabeth shivered as they pulled up in front of the factory. Across the street, a figure hovered in the alley. Shadow hid his face but something about him seemed oddly familiar. With an uneasy certainty, she knew the man was watching their arrival.
“Not everyone is in favor of this strike,” remarked Maeve. “There are too many hungry families who canna afford to lose a day’s pay, let alone a husband’s or father’s income.”
The coachman opened the door and handed the ladies onto the pavement. “You may return in an hour,” Maeve ordered as they entered the gloomy stone building.
The familiar sounds and sights of the looms at first put Alisabeth at ease. When Colin appeared, his massive form blocking the office door, panic seized her. What if she could not help Lachlan? What if she let them all down? She swallowed the self-doubt and took a deep breath, setting her shoulders. Maeve was here to help. A voice whispered to her that this was her chance to honor Ian and make things right for her and Gideon. Retribution for her husband’s death and atonement for loving another man.
“Lord Stanfeld said ye wouldna be coming.” Relief eased the creases about his light blue eyes and mouth. “I mean no disrespect toward his lordship, but Lachlan is convinced this fanatical group has the right of it. They mean to strike across the country with force if opposed, and I dinna see the English taking kindly to it.”
“My nephew is as pig-headed as his brother. He won’t stand in the shadows and let others fight for him.” Maeve walked past Colin and sat down in one of the mismatched chairs. “We must convince him there is a more imperative struggle right here.”
Lissie gave the man a tight hug and plunked down on the hard wood, letting Maeve’s words sink in. Yes, if Lachlan thought the mill was in jeopardy, he would remain here to protect it with his life. She blew out a breath as Maeve continued talking, a plan formulating as they each added their thoughts.
“The Committee called a meeting and Lachlan attended. Gideon has gone to find him. There are three new members that I dinna trust. They came looking for work a few months ago and made fast friends with Lachlan.” Colin rubbed his jaw. “I told him not to bring the jackanapes to a meeting but he wouldna listen. They’re rabble rousers, and I dinna ken which side of the fence they stand on. I’m afraid, come Monday, it will be a Peterloo Massacre all over again but more widespread.”
A chill rippled over Lissie’s skin. “I think someone is watching the building. Are the employees here joining the strike?”
“They’ve been told they willna be paid but willna be fired either unless they raise arms against us. It’s up to them, whichever way their conscience decides.” He grunted. “I’ve made it plain that it’ll do more harm than good, with families going hungry and men most likely dying.”
“I remember the uprising in Edingburgh when I was a girl,” said Maeve, pain clouding her eyes. “A horde of men dinna see reason and will follow whoever leads them. The wrong man at the front will cause chaos. Remorse willna bring back lost lives.”
The door slammed open, and Gideon’s shadow fell across the desk. Lissie forced herself to breath and turned to face him. His jaw tensed, a muscle ticking along the edge. She was prepared for the anger in his steely blue eyes but concern also creased his brow. Regret stabbed at her heart to cause him such worry but knew there was no other choice.
“Dinna go yelling at Lissie,” Maeve spoke, her hand up as if to hold off the explosion she thought was sure to come. “Once I’ve set my mind to something, ye canna change it. I admit it, I’m more obstinate than yer father.”
The corner of his mouth turned up, but the hint of his bitter smile vanished when Lachlan came up behind him “The appointment was cancelled. My cousin has been filling me on the military training that some groups have been providing. He doesn’t seem to understand that bearing arms against the government is treason. The penalty for treason is hanging. Only hanging, if you’re lucky.”
“I understand that wages for weavers and other skilled artisans were halved a dozen years ago. Petition after petition has not increased their earnings since.” Lachlan’s stormy blue eyes flashed with disgust. “This is one of the few factories with a decent wage, and that’s only because Da insisted on it. Between the growing population of poor and constant cholera outbreaks, the people are being pushed into a rebellion.”
Alisabeth stood. “Ian wouldna want ye giving yer life for a cause that canna be won through violence. If ye stand with them, ye’ll die with them. I’m certain of it.” She placed a hand on his arm, her eyes pleading. “Come back to the house and talk this out. We’ll find a way without risking yer neck.”
The angles of his face hardened, and Maeve stepped in. “Lachlan, we’d never tell ye to ignore yer principles. But I would ask that ye use the intelligence God gave ye and make sure ye are going about it the right way.”
His shoulders relaxed slightly as he worked his jaw. “I’ll come with ye but I’m not making any promises.”
Colin let out a loud breath. “That’s all we ask, mon.”
Gideon escorted the women back to the carriage. “Is there some Scottish concoction we can put in his food tonight to make him see re
ason?”
Maeve laughed. “Now why would a Scot have a potion for that? We prefer to believe in the unexplained.”
***
Gideon tied the cravat, cursed, loosened it, and retied it again with another curse. He could strangle Lissie and Mama for being here. The two most important women in his life trapped in a country on the edge of revolt. If he hadn’t seen the Truth in those scoundrels’ flitting gazes, he’d pick both females up, throw them over his shoulder, and drag them home. Instead, he had to tell Lachlan that he’d looked into the eyes of three men in that tavern and spied treachery. Not heard a plot, or discovered a note, or found anything that would be real proof. Only that he’d seen it in the depths of their perfidious souls. He yanked on the waistcoat with a grunt of annoyance. He’d find the words. He had no choice.
In the drawing room, his cousin lounged on the burgundy velvet settee, his head lolled back against the intricate green and gold embroidery framing the cushion. He looked exhausted. His mother stood near the fireplace, the dancing flames showing dark shadows against her pale face and highlighting the streaks of silver in her auburn hair. He joined her and leaned against the mantel, accepting a glass of claret from a servant.
Alisabeth entered, a delicate gray muslin gown swaying against her shapely legs. Her smile maddened him and stirred his blood at the same time. He wanted to scoop her up, carry her up the stairs, and make love to her until she screamed with pleasure. God’s bones, he wanted this over so he could concentrate on making her his wife. He dismissed the servant and closed the door.
“Aunt Maeve was telling me about her dream. I admit it causes me more than a bit of alarm.” Lachlan began as soon as they were alone. “I want ye to know I dinna take it lightly.”
Gideon snorted. “I’ve made that mistake myself.”
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