Oh My Laird!: A Risqué Regency Romance

by Sahara Kelly

  “You’ve lost some weight too. We must make sure we fix that.”

  “Ian?” He was carrying her from the room and down the stairs. “Has there been any news from the Magistrate’s office?”

  “In good time, love. Let’s get you settled first.”

  Her heart dropped. It must be bad news because he was taking such extraordinary care of her. It could only be in preparation for the worst. Steeling herself, she leaned against him for a few moments, trying to draw on his strength.

  Then he carried her into the salon where everyone awaited her arrival. There was a polite—and a bit embarrassing—round of applause at her appearance, but she smiled and waved elegantly, the queen in her carriage.

  Ian laughed aloud. “Very nice, dear. Now stop waving to your adoring public and tell me if you’ll be comfortable here?”

  “Here” was an overstuffed chair and ottoman, where several soft blankets were already in place.

  “Goodness, Ian. I should think anyone would be as comfortable as a cat here. Yes, please put me down.”

  He did so, making sure she was tucked up, warm and near his own seat on one end of a large sofa.

  “Right then.” Dev took center stage in front of the fireplace. “I’m going to do a brief recounting of how we gentlemen spent our morning, which I think you’ll all agree was extremely productive.”

  With all eyes on him, he spoke clearly and quietly, not dramatizing the facts but painting a perfect and accurate picture of their visit with Lionel Springer. He pointed at the diary, lying on a side table.

  “These are poor Lucy’s own words. She was convinced that but for Amelia, she would have claimed this man for her own.”

  “Who was he?” Amelia asked.

  “Um…” Ian leafed through the pages. “Here it is. His name was James Wheatland.” He looked up at his wife. “Do you recognize the name?”

  She nodded. “Jimmy Wheatland. He married a good friend of my sister’s. He’s like family to me, Ian. I never would have indulged in anything of an intimate nature with him. And he wouldn’t either.” She shook her head. “So it was all a lie, a dream conjured up by an unhappy and troubled woman.”

  “Given the family’s tendency to have what I suppose we could call emotional difficulties…well, we shouldn’t be surprised.” Ian sighed. Then he held up a letter with a large, official-looking seal affixed to it.

  “Here is the final line to this sad business. Within an hour of our leaving Springer, a messenger delivered this notice saying that any and all charges outstanding against one Amelia DeVere have henceforth been officially dismissed.” He looked at her, a smile lighting his face. “You’re a free woman, Amelia. Congratulations.”

  It was just a little too much. She burst into tears.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Ian looked around the room as he held Amelia’s hand tightly in his. She had managed to stop crying, but her nose was red, her eyes still bright with unshed tears and her smile was weak and unsteady.

  The affection was palpable and he guessed that it was a combination of the news and the clear evidence that she was actually held in high regard by everyone…well, it had overset her.

  It was a joyous time. There was tea, brandy, and a bottle of champagne brought in on high by an ebullient Aunt Bertie, who had just heard the good news.

  “I knew it, my love.” She leaned over and kissed Amelia on the top of her head. “These boys will take care of their own. Always remember that.” She turned to Dev. “Now give me champagne, lad. I feel the need to fizz.”

  Ian laughed along with everyone else and for some time there was the rare and perfect pleasure of a roomful of happy people celebrating and enjoying each other’s company.

  After an hour or so, Ian thought he might have to take Amelia back up to her room, but she was still going strong.

  Which was a good thing, since Baxter peered around the door and motioned to him. Quietly, Ian walked over. “Is everything all right, Baxter?”

  “I believe so, sir. But a messenger just delivered this. Apparently it was couriered down to you at Bow Street and they forwarded it here.” He passed a small well-wrapped box to Ian.

  “Ahh, perfect timing. Thank you Baxter. Most appreciated.”

  “My pleasure sir, and my congratulations on your lovely lady’s good news.” He bowed himself out and closed the door.

  Ian took a deep breath and walked to the fireplace, now the de facto head-of- the-table when it came to conference time amongst his friends.

  “If I might say something…” He cleared his throat and waited as heads turned toward him.

  “I canna find words to thank ye. But I hope ye’ll know what’s in ma heart and in ma wife’s heart as well. We’re full to the brim with gratitude and knowin’ friends such as yersel’s…we’re blessed. Thank ye.”

  His face had heated with a blush as he spoke the heartfelt words, and he had not even realized how thick his Scottish burr had become.

  But the round of applause and the “Hear, hear’s” told him the point had been made and accepted.

  Calmer now, he continued. “I hate to raise another issue, but we have one last matter to attend to. It’s about this.” He unwrapped the package, then opened it and removed Amelia’s ruby necklace, holding it aloft as the ladies gasped.

  “Goodness me, that’s a beautiful piece, Amelia.” Julia stared in awe.

  “It is,” Amelia agreed. “But not for the reasons you might think. Its only beauty for me now is the realization that it brought me something beyond price.” She smiled at Ian. “My husband.”

  “Well said.” Léonie beamed and tucked her arm through Dev’s.

  “You’re so right.” Hannah winked at her as she sat on the couch with Charles’s arm around her shoulders.

  “So,” continued Ian, “I have to settle the theft of this bauble. Which—as my wife pointed out—is how we became acquainted in the first place. And to do so, I have invited a guest to Deverell House this afternoon. Forgive me, Dev. I had nowhere else to conclude this business…”

  “My house is your house, Ian.” Dev shrugged off the breach of protocol. “Any time, my friend. You know that.”

  “Who is it, Ian?” Lucius leaned forward.

  “This is where it gets a bit tricky.” He looked around. “I’ve asked Rigsby DeVere. And the reason is solid as rock, but if you’ll continue to forgive me, I’d ask that for the time he’s here, just Amelia and I be present. We’ll tell you everything when he’s left.”

  Amelia was white. “Ian…do you know what you’re doing?”

  “Trust me love. This has to be finished.”

  Baxter tapped on the door and opened it again. “Your visitor has arrived, Mr. McPherson.”

  “Very good. Baxter. Give us one moment please?”

  Ian looked around the room. “Will you humor me, friends?”

  As one they chorused their “yes’s” and “of course” and the room cleared within seconds flat, although Aunt Bertie cast longing looks in their direction as Dev hurried her out with a hand on her wrist.

  Alone, Ian looked at Amelia. “This may be difficult for you, love. I would spare you but I canna. We both need to finish this for good an’ all. Then our future can really begin.”

  Her hand shook but she held it out to him. “I trust you and I love you. No matter what happens here, that will never change.”

  He nodded and opened the door. “Baxter, would you ask Mr. DeVere to join us, please?”

  Rigsby DeVere looked unsure of himself as he was led into the salon by the butler.

  “Mr. DeVere, sir, madam.”

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Rigsby glared at Amelia as the door closed them into privacy. “I warned you what would happen if you returned to London…”

  “DeVere. Sit down.”

  Ian snapped out the command, making DeVere jump a little. But it worked, and with an angry grunt, the man took a seat. “Why am I here? Now that I know she’s back I have
business to attend to. Business that shuts her off from the DeVeres forever.”

  Amelia continued to remain silent, her face pale perfection, betraying no sign of any emotion. Ian couldn’t have been more proud of his wife than he was at that moment.

  He turned back to DeVere.

  “I have asked you here because of this.“ He raised the ruby necklace. “It has been recovered, as you see, and restored to its rightful owner.”

  “Oh I see.” It was a sneer, without doubt. “Now she has that back, she’s going to sell it, and thinks to go back to cutting a swath of filth through London’s men, dragging the DeVere name with her.”

  “DeVere, I’d ask you to mind your manners. You’re addressing my wife.”

  The other man’s head snapped around at that news and his eyes widened. “Are you mad? You married this…this…”

  Ian walked to him, fury radiating from every solid inch. “You are a guest here. I canna do what I’d like. But I’d advise you to be very careful about your next words.”

  DeVere fought for control. “What do you want with me?” His face betrayed his anger, but he kept his tone even.

  Ian had to give the man credit for that, but since his wife hadn’t said a word either, he guessed it was a family trait.

  “I want to know why you had the ruby stolen in the first place.”

  “What?” Amelia nearly fell off her chair. “You? It was you, Rigsby? Why? Are you gone mad?”

  DeVere gave Ian a furiously angry look and for a moment it seemed he was about to protest his innocence. But Ian held that gaze firmly, and at last Rigsby looked down at the carpet. Silence fell as Amelia’s shocked exclamations echoed around the room.

  His head lifted, and he met his sister’s gaze with one of his own. There was nothing there, realized Ian. No warmth, no affection and certainly no love.

  “You made me do it.”

  “Oh don’t be ridiculous,” she snorted. “How could I have done any such thing?”

  “Your behavior.” He sighed and his shoulders sagged.

  He was going to reveal all now, guessed Ian. He moved to his wife’s side.

  “You were becoming so notorious. The fodder for gossips all over town. I heard from cronies at my club and Georgina was getting daily reports from many of the women she knew.”

  Amelia bit her lip, but remained silent.

  “It only got worse, Amelia. So much worse. And I could see no end to it. How could Georgie set up a debut for Annabelle when the Ton would be talking about her aunt? What would that do for her marriage options? Not too many men or mothers for that matter, would wish to see their families allied with anybody associated with you.”

  “Dear God.” She trembled a little. Ian rested his hand on her shoulder and she eased beneath his warmth.

  “I knew I could withhold financial support from the DeVere family and that it would curb your antics. But there was still a chance that you might find funding from other sources. And prime amongst those was that ruby. It’s worth more than everything else you had put together. With that, you could indeed set yourself up on your own and bring the final hammer down on the DeVere name.”

  “So you arranged the theft that night at the Gallunder’s Ball?” Ian asked.

  DeVere nodded. “I did. It may have been stupid and risky, but it was the only way I could think of to stop you from ruining our family.”

  “All for the family, Rigsby. That’s your excuse.” Amelia looked at him. “You couldn’t have thought of any other way?”

  “Such as?”

  “You could have talked to me.”

  “Hah. Lot of good that would have done me. You never listened to anyone who told you anything of import.”

  “I don’t like being lectured, that is true. And I’ll do the opposite if you try and force me into something.” She paused. “But you never talked to me as a brother to a sister. You never allowed me to suspect that you held me in the slightest affection. Never, Rigsby. Never.”

  “I’m not that sort of person.” He raised his head and gave her that look of ice once more. “You would have disobeyed me. I exercised my only option.”

  He glanced at Ian. “How did you find out, may I ask?”

  “He’s a Bow Street Runner, you idiot.” Amelia ran out of patience. “What the hell did you expect?”

  Ian couldn’t help a grin. His wife had a gift for going right to the heart of things. “She’s right, of course. But besides my excellent skills at detection, we do have a few tricks up our sleeve at Bow Street. And one of them is our ability to keep an eye on money. Especially that paid for stolen goods. Knowing where it travels and in whose hands it ends up has helped us solve more than a few crimes, this one included.” He shrugged. “Did you promise the necklace as a reward to whoever stole it?”

  “Yes.”

  Ian nodded. That confirmed his suspicions. “I’ll wager that poor thief never knew the real value of the piece when he gave it to Royce to auction off. You made a mistake, DeVere. You should have retained it once it was stolen.”

  “I never wanted to see it again. It wasn’t ours, didn’t belong to the DeVeres. If I’d kept it, it would remind me of her every time I saw it.” He nodded at Amelia. “Better to throw it in the Thames than have to be reminded of the mess she made of her life and the disaster she almost made of mine.”

  Ian’s temper rose as his heart ached for what his wife was hearing from her own brother’s mouth.

  “A mess no more. She’s now wife to the Young Laird of Kilmalochan and I’ll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head.”

  Rigsby blinked, then stood. “Well that’s that, then. If you’re really married, then she’s your problem now. I wash my hands of both of you, Laird or not.” He looked at his sister. “I’ll thank you to keep away from the DeVeres from now on. I can’t order you to do anything anymore, I suppose, but I will insist upon that courtesy at least.”

  “You’re asking my wife to cut off all ties to her family, then? Do I have that right?”

  “Yes.” Rigsby stood firm.

  Ian looked at Amelia and Amelia gave a slight nod.

  *~~*~~*

  “But he was, Dev. He was bleeding from his nose, I swear.” Aunt Bertie hurried into the salon behind her nephew.

  Ian heard her and laughed.

  “You’re right, Aunt Bertie. He was indeed. I punched him in the nose because Amelia wasn’t strong enough to do it herself.”

  After he’d related the entire story to the reassembled group, they endorsed Ian’s final action as one.

  “Well done, Ian,” beamed Julia. “I am so proud of you.”

  “It’s that Scottish red hair,” added Hannah. “There’s a temper under all that fire.”

  “’T’was well done indeed, Ian.” Léonie agreed. “Not quite as effective as a shot in the arse, but more civilized.”

  There were more congratulations, and more conversation and—thanks to Aunt Bertie—more champagne.

  And before too long, Amelia knew the last dregs of her strength were running out.

  “Friends, I cannot last much longer,” she sighed.

  Ian was there in an instant, sweeping her up in his arms. “Time to tuck the wee lass down for a nap, I’m thinking.”

  There was a flutter that Amelia stopped with a raised hand. “Don’t fuss, my friends. I’m just tired, that’s all.” She looked up at Ian. “My husband will take good care of me, I know.”

  “We’re your family now, dear. We will always take good care of you as well,” added Bertie. “You just remember that now, all right?”

  “How could we forget?” Ian looked around at the smiling faces. “And as family, you’re the first to get a special invitation.” His gaze fell on his wife and he grinned. “There’s going to be a wedding soon, an English one, just to make sure we’ve done it well enough for the entire world. And you’re all to be there.”

  “Yes, Ian. Oh yes.” It was a whisper, drowned by the cheers that his announcement h
ad elicited.

  But for Ian, it was enough. He was wed by tradition to the woman he’d love for the rest of his life. And he would be wed by law as well. There was no way anyone could ever question their commitment to each other. Ever.

  And that was just the way he wanted it.

  Although a bairn or two might be nice…his smile widened as he left the room, bearing his precious prize high against his heart.

  “You’ve got a very big smile on your face, my Laird.”

  “I was thinking of something.”

  “What?”

  He leaned close. “Get well soon, my Lady, and I’ll show ye.”

  Epilogue

  And so, as the autumn sun gave way to the shorter winter days, the friends gathered once more at Deverell House to celebrate the official marriage of Ian McPherson, the young Laird of Kilmalochan, and Amelia Maria DeVere.

  It had to be at Dev’s, of course, because Lucius didn’t own a home in London anymore, and Charles had discovered to his disgust that the only bit of remaining Penvale property in town was a tiny corner house on a nondescript street far too near the docks for comfort. He’d sold it immediately, announcing that the Penvales were now permanently located in Fontaine House and the hell with anyone who wanted to make an issue of it.

  The bride and groom didn’t care. The moment they said their “I do’s” they were ready to be off home to Kilmalochan. They would stop briefly at Natherbury, just to ensure all was going as planned. Rigsby had been “persuaded” by Ian and his entourage of solid male friends, to put the money paid for the ruby into repairs at Natherbury Fell. It seemed fair and to give the devil his due, Rigsby had done as he was asked. Of course, the looks he was receiving at the time from Lucius, Charles and Dev might have swayed him as well.

  “Dev, I…”

  “Ian, if you try to thank me once more, I swear you’ll be going off on your wedding journey with a black eye.” Dev frowned at his friend.

  “Um, he’s taller and bigger, you know.” Lucius peered over Dev’s shoulder at Ian. “I wouldn’t try it if I were you.”