A Question for the Ages (Questions for a Highlander Book 7)

by Angeline Fortin

  Nor could she retreat to her cottage lest he follow. Her single sanctuary, the only place she was sure no one would find her.

  Was there anything more she could do but walk in circles until night fell and it was too dark for him to track her movements?

  With a frown, Piper glanced over her shoulder to see Connor with his arms crossed over his chest and legs braced, watching her. He hadn’t advanced a single step.

  He was going to let her go? Just like that? Why?

  Because he’d said she could trust him.

  Because he wanted to prove it?

  Piper swung around again and forged onward. Faith and trust. No, she wasn’t as naïve as she’d once been.

  The bonds of friendship fostered more faith than promises. In the end, the only one she’d been able to count on to rescue her from a doomed future had been herself. She was her own heroine. She didn’t need a white knight. Pinning her hopes on another fickle male would be a mistake.

  Her head waggled back and forth of its own accord as she walked, as if refuting the direction of her thoughts. For all his assurance that he’d subtly searched for her, Connor had known of her presence for months without pushing for answers from the two people who would be able to answer them. He hadn’t questioned the steward, Mr. Larkin, and he hadn’t written Harry inquiring about her, she knew. For surely if he had, her brother would have recognized the name no one else had. Lillian Milbourne. A combination of her middle name and his mother’s maiden name. While he may not have bothered to return himself, he would have undoubtedly sent word to her mother.

  Neither had come to Dinton Grange which meant, in essence, that Connor had allowed Piper her secrets, as he said. If she could find it in herself to trust him, she might alleviate her loneliness in the process.

  Or perhaps it would prove her all the more a fool.

  Another glance over her shoulder verified he continued to wait. The man must possess the patience of Job. Could she trust him to remain steadfast?

  Bolstering her courage, Piper gestured for him to join her, wondering if she was condemning herself in the process.

  * * *

  Connor fell in step next to her with a sense of fleeting triumph. A single allowance hadn’t won him anything more than a second chance with her. An opportunity to prove himself. It had been evident from the start that she was hiding something, hiding from something. Someone.

  Fear alone didn’t drive her. Betrayal did. For one so young, she possessed an incredible lack of faith in human decency.

  “My mother sacked my governess for allowing me to read Middlemarch.” The direction of her conversation was far removed from what he might have guessed. They walked side by side a few moments more. She was a tall woman and the length of her no-nonsense stride was a comfortable one for him to match. Tilting her head, she cast her eyes from beneath the brim of her hat, the book in question bouncing on her thigh with each step. “Are you not curious why?”

  Keeping his pace in line with hers, Connor idly scanned the path ahead as he framed his answer. He was immensely curious. About her statement, about the trials that had incited her withdrawal into hiding, about the reason her innate spirit had become masked by the same skittishness an untamed horse who’d been put under the whip of an inhumane master bore.

  As she set the pace of their steps, he meant to allow her to do the same with their conversation. Reveal what she would, as she would. Hassling her would merely drive her away and he had no desire to do that.

  That resolve didn’t stop him from making conversation. “Many would say that its morbid tone is inappropriate for a young lady. Although, I would assume that’s no’ the reason.”

  “No.” She frowned. “I had never considered it morbid.”

  “Pessimistic, then.”

  With a shrug, she allowed the opinion. “Mother hadn’t read the book, mind you, but she’d heard it was generally disdainful of marriage. She thought it set a poor example for her imminently marriageable daughter, you see?”

  He was beginning to. Beginning to sense his initial suspicions had been correct. Regardless, he would not ask. She would tell him or not, in her own time.

  “I quite anticipated it at one time. Marriage, that is,” she quietly confessed. “With all the enthusiasm of a young girl who didn’t spare a thought to what lay beyond the dances and courtship. My mother didn’t want to allow me even that.”

  When Connor held his tongue, she stopped in her tracks with a scowl. “Are you not going to ask me if it was nothing more than a spoiled child’s flight of fancy that compelled me to run away? Are you going to ask me nothing?”

  “I doubt verra much that ye set off on a whim.” He took her hand in his. Her icy fingers curled into his palm, a slight tremble relaying more tension than her pert query conveyed. “It is no’ for me to judge ye, lass.”

  “You might be the only one to think that.” Her nose wrinkled rather adorably. “It was no whim, Mr. MacKintosh. I thank you for being the first to see that.”

  The clouds of worry that had pervaded her bonny blue eyes since he’d asked her what she ran from began to clear. A smile as bright as the sun above dawned in their depths. They had yet to address the core of her problems. In truth, he scarcely knew more than he suspected before. Even so, he’d managed to put her at ease and Connor was content with that.

  For now.

  “Ye’re welcome, lass.” Her sweet lips quirked at one corner and an answering warmth swelled within him. “What is it?”

  “I’m wondering, which are you?” She tilted her head to the side when he cocked his own in question. “From the quote? Which are you? The wit or the idiot?”

  A chuckle of surprise and appreciation bubbled up in his throat. “Aye. ‘The troublesome ones in a family are usually either the wits or the idiots,’” he repeated the quote in question. “What leads ye to believe I’m the troublesome sort at all?”

  “I’ve got a feeling you’ve a knack for it.”

  True laughter spilled forth and a grin stretched her lips, mischief lighting her expression as they resumed their promenade. For certain, the lass was something of a wit herself. Without a doubt, she spelled a fair bit of trouble for him. In more ways than one.

  “A near fatal blow, lass,” he teased, hand over his heart. It was either that or an encore of that tantalizing kiss. If he started along that path, he wouldn’t want to stop. “One worthy of my sister. I should love for ye to meet her.”

  “I doubt I will ever have the opportunity.”

  The sunshine in her eyes dimmed for a moment. Regret, he thought. Looking ahead, he gestured to the grand house in the distance and sought to assure her. “Oh, ye shall. My sister and her husband plan to make Dinton Grange their permanent home. Far be it from me and my brothers to tell a Scotswoman what to do, but…”

  Connor’s words trailed away as he glanced around him for the lass. She’d stopped in her tracks while he kept on walking.

  “Mrs. Milbourne?” He turned back with a frown. “My apologies, lass. I dinnae intend to make ye fret. Ye’ve naught to fear anything more from my sister than fro—” A stray thought cut off his words.

  When he’d met her outside the church doors at his sister’s wedding, she’d asked if Harry loved his bride. Did Fiona love him, as well? Tears had welled in her eyes when he assured her that their love was true. Tears he’d assumed to be sadness. For a lost lover? Something more?

  “Och,” the word burst from him. “Is it Aylesbury?”

  Her eyes widened, that hint of panic returned, and Connor knew he’d hit the nail on the head. The notion gave him no more joy now than it had that day.

  “Is it Aylesbury ye run from, lass? Were ye his lover?”

  The alarm faded, though the flash of amusement on her face couldn’t win the battle with the resolute line of her lips. Pressed tightly, they remained pinched as she shook her head.

  Not a discarded mistress then. Relief swept through him. Not only for his own sake, but for his
sister’s. He’d never mentioned his brief conversation with Mrs. Milbourne to Fiona because he hadn’t wanted to disillusion his sister regarding her new husband’s proclivities. Especially on their wedding day.

  If not Aylesbury’s mistress, though, what connection did Mrs. Milbourne have with the marquis? For by her expression, there most assuredly was one.

  His questions—for now he had them aplenty—would have to wait as the lass was running for the woods as if the hounds of hell were on her trail.

  Chapter 6

  Dear brother, answer me, I beg of you! With each day that passes without a letter from you, I begin to fear Mother was right. Can it be you support this madness? Do you realize what fate you condemn me to?

  ~ from the correspondence of Piper Brudenall, Dec 1892

  Two days later

  Mrs. Davies, how could you keep this from me?” With her implacable lack of remorse, the housekeeper had informed Piper that she did indeed know of and had concealed Connor’s shocking news. Harry was coming home. For good. “How long do I have?”

  “His lordship wrote that they were to spend another week in Paris before traveling on to Billère for a brief stay.”

  “Billère? Where is that?”

  “It’s in southern France near the foothills of the Pyrenees. His lordship writes that her ladyship”—Davies straightened her spectacles and picked up the letter in question—“‘fancies playing a round at the Pau Golf Club’ before they return. Evidently, it is the oldest golf course on the Continent.” The housekeeper slid the letter into a thicker stack of correspondence and set it aside before removing her spectacles and tossing them on top of the pile. “Why his lordship would assume I require such detail, I cannot imagine.”

  Drumming her fingers on the desktop, Piper stared blankly at the neat stack as if she might somehow see through them all to read her brother’s letter for herself. See for herself that he was, in truth, coming home. She hadn’t wanted to believe Connor and had used the heavy rains the previous day as an excuse to nurse her denial a bit longer. What she’d managed to do instead was don a cloak of dread so heavy it nearly suffocated her. Hearing the truth relieved her one weight merely to supplant it with another.

  And she’d thought Connor to be the only hitch in her perfect plan!

  “I have a month, then?”

  “At most.” Mrs. Davies leaned forward and set her hand firmly on top of Piper’s, effectively stopping the agitated tapping. A moment later, she curled her cool fingers around Piper’s and allowed herself a comforting squeeze. “It’s for the best, my lady.”

  A plethora of words leapt to Piper’s lips, rash accusations of betrayal that couldn’t be recanted, hence she swallowed them back. Lifting her chin, she caught the fleeting sympathy in the housekeeper’s eyes. “For the best? I hardly think being caught unawares is in my best interest.”

  Mrs. Davies flipped Piper’s hand in hers, stroking her fingers over the callouses on Piper’s fingers. “No lady should have hands like these. No lady should be compelled to work so hard to evade their demons. You should be dancing in ballrooms, not in kitchens. Riding in Hyde Park, not across fields. I want you to resume the life that you were meant to live.”

  “And you believe being reunited with my brother will accomplish all of that?” Piper retorted incredulously. “In all the time I’ve been here, he has never come searching for me. He hasn’t come to Dinton Grange at all until the wedding.”

  To rejoice in his future while Piper dwelled in the past. She withdrew her hand, curling her fingers around those patches of hardened skin. “Has the marquis ever questioned you about me? No, not in all that time.”

  “He did, in fact, while he was here,” the housekeeper admitted to Piper’s surprise. “He mentioned seeing you in the village and demanded to know if I was aware you were in the area.”

  “And you told him…?”

  “I denied your presence, of course.” Mrs. Davies’s finger did its own tapping on the desktop. “I’ve come to regret doing so.”

  Tamping down a foolhardy spurt of optimism, she clenched her teeth. “A curiosity question cannot undo years of neglect, Mrs. Davies. How can you think I would be able to trust him to protect me? I’ll answer that. I don’t need him to.”

  “You must give him a chance to prove himself.”

  “He’s had his chance,” Piper contended. “In the end, I did what I must to free myself from an unacceptable life. I faced an impossible situation and took it upon myself to be my own hero. If that means I will never be Lady Phillipa Brudenall again, I am fine with that consequence. Callouses and all.”

  The housekeeper shook her head. “It saddens me that the lighthearted child I had a hand in raising has become so hardened. In body and in mind. Perhaps one day you’ll see the truth.”

  “What truth is that?”

  “Everyone needs a shoulder to lean on, my lady. Someone they can trust.” The housekeeper’s gaze shifted over Piper’s shoulder as a light rap sounded at the open door. “What is it, Albert?”

  “Your pardon, ma’am,” the groom mumbled. Piper twisted in her chair and his attention turned to her. “M’lady, I’ve received word that Miss Langston is available and will meet you at the normal place at half of the hour.”

  “Thank you.” Piper forced a smile before he bowed his head and retreated. The polite expression slipped away as she stood and retrieved her battered black velvet hat from the desktop.

  Someone to trust? Such a difficult task when one’s heart was as calloused as their hands. Beyond Jane and the people of the Grange—who now tested her faith—the only one who she was inclined to put an ounce of her trust in was Connor. A shoulder to lean on was tempting, but how hardened would she be by repeated disappointment?

  Piper left the housekeeper’s office without another word. As she passed through the kitchen, the hum and bustle fell silent. Eyes filled with pity followed her. They knew. They all knew. For how long?

  Hilde wiped her hands on her apron and spread her arms wide. Any other day, that motherly embrace would have been a welcome sight. All it bespoke this day was further evidence of deception.

  A prickle of heat stung Piper’s eyes. “Were you all simply going to let me walk in here one day to discover the truth for myself? To come face-to-face with him without even a moment to prepare?”

  “We were afraid you might hie yourself off to America if you knew, child.” The love and sympathy in Hilde’s voice was almost too much to bear. “The time has come to see an end to this nonsense.”

  “I thought you said it wasn’t your place to tell him.” Piper’s hands fisted to stay their trembling.

  “Well, we wouldn’t precisely be telling him, you see.”

  A harsh chuckle escaped her. “Yes, I do. Surprises all around. Hoorah! How entertaining that would have been.”

  Exiting through the kitchen court, Piper found Albert at the gate holding the reins to her saddled horse. A small consolation to soothe the sting. Jenny, one of the maids from the Langston’s household, hovered behind him. Close behind him. The passing of notes between Piper and Jane over the past months had evidently sparked a romance.

  At least someone’s future appeared bright.

  “Up ye go, m’lady.” Words she’d heard again and again since childhood. Back then, he’d picked her up and plopped her into the saddle. Now, Albert cupped his hands to give her a leg up.

  “Did you know, too, Albert?”

  “I’ve never let any harm come to you, m’lady. I don’t plan to let anything change that.”

  Hardly an answer.

  “Mr. MacKintosh has been walking the parkland of late,” he warned. “Best keep to the northern fields.”

  Another warning that had come too late.

  * * *

  “You’re quiet today.”

  “I’ve had a bit of news. It seems Harry will be returning to Dinton Grange soon. To stay.” The confession was barely a whisper, as if spoken aloud the words would strike with
the sting of a whip.

  Jane reined in her mount in surprise nonetheless, the dainty mare sidestepping at the sudden halt with a soft whinny of protest. “Mr. MacKintosh must have spotted you and mentioned you in his letters to his sister.”

  “I came across him by chance a couple of days ago and engaged in conversation enough to know he has not.”

  Her friend’s eyes widened. “Does he know who you are?”

  Piper shook her head. “No. My point is, he may have asked around about me locally, I’m confident has not mentioned me to Harry.” She was, trusting in him more completely than she would have thought possible given their brief acquaintance. Regret weighed on her for her hasty abandonment of him. Nearly as heavily as his revelation. “Harry didn’t care enough for me to come looking before, nor does he now. He’s decided to take up residence. Though I cannot help but wonder why, after all this time.”

  “Piper, don’t talk nonsense.” Jane waggled her riding crop at her. “I’ve told you he’s most ardent in his desire to find you.”

  The rains the previous day had served to cool the warm weather to more seasonal temperatures, but even the chill in the air couldn’t subdue the heated ire her friend’s newfound conviction of Harry’s devotion roused in Piper. It seemed as if all those who had long supported her were turning their backs while a perfect stranger became the one to provide the greatest reassurance.

  “As is someone else, Jane.”

  “If Mr. MacKintosh has sought you out, he was most discreet about it,” Jane reassured her. “Mama is such a gossip, as you well know. She would have leapt upon an unfamiliar name with all the tenacity of a hound with a bone. I’ve never heard so much as a whisper about Mrs. Milbourne from her.”