The Heart Queen

by Patricia Potter

  But they couldna live off him forever.

  Not that Marjorie would care. Not that any of the Campbells had ever cared. They’d picked the carcass until it was nearly clean.

  Marjorie saw her, Janet knew, but turned her head away and went through the door. A chuckle started in her throat. She suspected that the dowager countess had depended on their “guest” being gone. She would not be pleased that Braemoor remained here.

  But he was much improved, though his thigh wound made walking difficult. Still, she did not expect him to linger much longer.

  She turned back to the children. The day was bright, the sun warm. Even Marjorie could not ruin this day.

  But would she feel that way when Braemoor left?

  She had not realized how much she cared until she nursed him. She had tried to tell herself it was naught but ordinary concern for a wounded man. But it ran deeper than that. Too deep. She did care. Passionately.

  Be careful. Remember what happened last time.

  The sun started to dip, and she gathered up Colin. He took her hand and tried to stand again, just as he had done for Braemoor. Still hanging on with one hand, he grabbed her other hand, then fell into her arms with a huge grin on his face.

  Her heart thundered. She held him tight. Dear God, she loved him. After a moment, he wriggled. She released her grip on him and picked him up. He seemed to grow heavier each time she did.

  Annabella leaned down and picked up Delilah, then followed the two older lasses inside as Samson gamboled behind them. They all glowed from being outside, from playing with their wee pets. Balancing Colin with one arm, Janet clasped Rachel’s eager hand with the other and went inside.

  Janet promised to tell them a story later, after she checked on their wounded guest.

  She went into the kitchen to get a plate of food and a pitcher of fresh water. As she walked toward the steps, raised voices drew her to the withdrawal room. The door was only partially closed and she heard Braemoor’s name mentioned, then a muffled sound.

  “Can you not do anything right?” she heard Marjorie say.

  “There was nothing I could do,” Reginald replied in a voice that was part whine, part placating. “You were the one who was going to change Cumberland’s mind.”

  “His Grace is in London. But one of his aides said he would do what he could to persuade His Grace to name you—”

  “Now there, you see,” Reginald interrupted. “There was no harm …”

  Marjorie broke into his protest. “He also said, though, that His Grace wants control of this land. Lochaene protects a pass through the Highlands and there are still bandits and Jacobites in hiding there. He believes Braemoor can clear them and you cannot. Or will not.” Reginald, like Alasdair, had not heeded Cumberland’s call to arms. There was a long, accusing silence. Then Marjorie’s voice again. “He is said to favor a marriage between Braemoor and … Alasdair’s widow. He wants Braemoor to have the property.”

  Another silence. Janet heard footsteps and she moved away from the door and fled up the steps as questions darted through her mind. Did Braemoor know of Cumberland’s desire?

  And why—if he did—had he not mentioned it to her?

  He wants Braemoor to have the land. Had Braemoor thought of a way to get it without marrying her?

  She recalled the kiss the night before he left. He was the one who had broken it.

  He did not want her.

  Did he want her son’s land?

  She suddenly felt very alone again.

  “No,” Janet said sharply. “I will not leave.”

  “I’m afraid, my lady, you have no choice.” Neil heard his own voice. Cool. Measured. Even indifferent. How could he sound so calm when his heart was being sliced apart by the look of betrayal in her eyes?

  He had been sure of his position. There was no choice. He had known that when Tim and Jock arrived this afternoon, and Jock had reluctantly agreed to stay here until Neil found a permanent manager for Lochaene. He had continued to be sure until she looked at him with desperate, betrayed and unbelieving eyes.

  “I talked to Tim,” he said. “Your life could be in danger here.”

  “It could also have been an accident.”

  “Mayhap,” he said calmly. “But I, too, was attacked. I do not like coincidences.”

  “That had nothing to do with me.”

  “It might have everything to do with control of Lochaene,” he said. “I willna leave you here alone.”

  Something flickered in her eyes, and he wondered if she knew something she had not told him. But then her chin went up in defiance. “I can take care of myself. I have no intention of leaving my son’s inheritance.”

  “It is for your safety. And his,” Neil said, playing his trump card. “If you do not care for yourself, then think of the children.”

  “There is absolutely no proof anyone would hurt them. Or me, for that matter,” she said, and he saw the shine of stubborn tears in her eyes.

  “I must get back to Braemoor,” he said. “And I canna leave you here alone.”

  “Your man will be here,” she said angrily. She had not been happy when he told her that Jock would be manager.

  “He canna protect you from the family,” Neil said. “Neither can Kevin.”

  “So Lochaene becomes yours, under your stewardship. ’Tis what you wanted all along,” she said. “To add land to your own holdings. But it belongs to Colin. And I will not be dependent on you or any other man again.”

  So there it was. He looked at the determined set of her jaw and realized he could not change her mind through cajolery. He had thought they had reached at least some semblance of friendship in the days during his recovery. But after his behavior years ago, he realized now she would never believe in his honor again. She would never believe in him again.

  She glared at him with something akin to hatred.

  But he could not stay here. Jock had told him there were doubts at home, and that the lease men and tenants were reluctant to leave what they had for something unknown, especially when the “lord” had disappeared. A trick, they said. Everything he had planned at Braemoor was in danger.

  Jock had been none too pleased, either. He, too, wanted to be back at Braemoor, and he’d agreed to stay at Lochaene only on the condition that he be replaced as soon as possible. But Lochaene needed him more at the moment. The estate had been badly managed, its tenants ignored, while at Braemoor the tenants at least had land and food and fuel for the winter.

  Neil had spent the last four days walking, trying to build his strength. He had even gone for a ride yesterday, despite the agony he felt when his leg had stretched while reaching into the saddle. It had not been ready. But he had to return to Braemoor. He could linger here no longer, allowing her to think that he might leave here alone. He would be forcing her, as her husband had done, to do things she did not want to do. And because of their past, she would never believe he was doing it for her.

  “I will not go,” Janet said again.

  He sighed. He wished he had Rory’s charm, his glibness. He did not know how to embroider the truth. “I am sorry, Janet. I am Colin’s guardian. He is going with me to Braemoor. I cannot force you, but I can ensure his safety.”

  She looked at him with shocked eyes. She took a step backward. “You would not do that.”

  “I would and I will. We leave tomorrow. Jock will make sure all your orders are carried out here. He will work with the tenants so they can stay. No one will be forced out, and they will have everything they need.”

  “This is my home.”

  “Is it, Janet? Have you been happy here?” Another cruel blow.

  “Happier than I was at Braemoor,” she retorted.

  A knife stroke to his gut. “I will try to make it better. I will get a governess for the children. There’s the library …”

  “And I will be a prisoner again,” she said flatly.

  “Nay,” he said.

  “Aye,” she contradicted hi
m. “And it is my own fault. I wrote you. I knew I could not trust you and still … I wrote you.”

  Janet took a step back as if she could not stand being in his presence, then turned and fled from the room.

  Janet bit back her frustration. She hadn’t wanted to run, hadn’t wanted him to see her reaction.

  She reminded herself of his ruthlessness. Reminded herself that this man had fought at Culloden, had killed men that might have been her friends, that he might have killed her brother. For a few days, she’d allowed herself to forget that, to shove it to the back of her mind. She’d thought she saw the old Neil Forbes in him, not the arrogant marquis who knew best for everyone, especially himself. She had been right when he’d first arrived. He wanted what was her son’s.

  And once more she was helpless. Just as she had been with her husband. He did have the legal right to take her son with him. He did have the physical power. And he knew that she would have to go with him. She would not leave her son in his hands.

  For how long?

  Or could he be right? Had someone tried to harm her? And if so, would they go after Colin? She had not told Neil about the figure on the battlements. It had frightened her but had not harmed her. Perhaps he’d had something to do with all of it. He could have cut the cinch on the sidesaddle before he left. He would know she was the only one who used it. Both Louisa and Marjorie always used carriages.

  As Colin’s guardian, he could easily fold Lochaene into his holdings.

  Why had she not considered that? She wrapped her arms around each other as a chill seeped through her.

  Had she invited the serpent into her garden?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Neil decided to join the family for supper. He had heard the carriage, watched the dowager countess make her grand entrance. It had been obvious that she thought he would be gone by now, and she could resume her role as grandame.

  He was usually indifferent to people like the Campbells. He had been a servant to them. He had never cared enough to despise them. He had only tried to survive those early years.

  Now he knew the harm they had inflicted on Janet and the children. How they had quenched the fire of their lives! And he, too, was guilty of it. Were good intentions a better excuse for betrayal than indifference or even evil? They all inflicted damage.

  To his surprise, Janet joined them. Her eyes flickered slightly when she saw him. She apparently had expected him no more than he had expected her. He had heard from Lucy that she usually took her meals with the children.

  She looked lovely. Although she was still in mourning, she wore a dark blue dress with just a small bit of lace. It was not fashionable. He’d learned something about that during these past years, too, but the color made her eyes bluer and the cloth moved gracefully with her body. He wondered why she had come to supper tonight. He had noticed she generally tried to avoid her relatives.

  “Marjorie,” she said smoothly. “How nice to have you back. Is there anything I can do to make the dower house more welcoming?”

  Marjorie’s face reddened and he smiled inwardly. Janet had, in effect, just informed her mother-in-law that she was not expected to stay in the manor, as the woman had obviously been planning.

  Then Janet turned to Reginald. “I am putting a notice in the newspapers that Lochaene will no longer pay any debts that are not incurred directly by me.”

  Louisa half rose from the table. Reginald blustered. “You canna do that. It will shame us.”

  “You have done that yourself by making wagers and purchases you, and Lochaene, can ill afford,” she said serenely.

  Marjorie glared at her. “I am the dowager countess. I do have claims.”

  “Then your son should have settled them on you in his will.”

  “You know there was no will,” Marjorie said. “He died too suddenly,” she added, with the familiar accusation in her voice.

  Fascinated, Neil watched. Janet was making it quite clear to everyone exactly who was in charge. He could almost sense what was coming.

  “At my request,” she continued. “My lord Braemoor has brought someone here to manage the estate. His name is Jock Forbes and he will have full control of our holdings until I return.” Her voice was confident, easy. Her eyes betrayed nothing.

  He couldn’t have done better. She was a better actress than he’d thought. He almost believed her.

  She knew she had no choice but to follow his will, but she was making it her own for when she returned. That she meant to return was obvious. That she meant to run her own affairs was equally obvious. She was quietly declaring war.

  He had never admired her more.

  Lochaene was hers, she’d just told everyone, including him. And no one was going to take it away from her. She might have to agree to his demands at the moment, but she was also making it very plain that it was a temporary situation.

  “And I want to thank the marquis,” she added sweetly, “for his protection.” She allowed that to settle, then sprung her next attack. “He must return to his estates, and he is still very weak. I will be going with him in the morning to make sure he does not exhaust himself and fall victim to a fever.”

  The three Campbells were looking at her as if she’d just sprouted horns. Devil’s horns.

  “You are going away? With a gentleman? As your brother-in-law, I must protest. It is not proper. What about the children?”

  “It is most kind of you to inquire,” she said. “They will be going with me. As well as Clara and Lucy,” she said, looking at Braemoor.

  “Aye,” Neil said. “She will be well chaperoned.” He did not want to besmirch her name any more than Reginald had already done. He also feared that Cumberland would take the act as a possible first step toward marriage, which he’d made clear he would approve. That, of course, was impossible. Even if he could marry, Janet most certainly would never consent.

  He felt trapped in a spider’s web.

  “I can manage things while you are gone,” Reginald said, obviously trying to extract something from the arrangement. “It is my duty as your brother-in-law,” he added piously.

  “I do not wish to impose on you,” she replied serenely. “Especially since the marquis knew of someone superbly qualified. We all owe him thanks, because when Lochaene becomes prosperous again, we will all benefit and there will be no need for such austere necessities as legal notices.”

  If apoplexy was fatal, all three Campbells in the room would have expired. Marjorie took out her tiny salts box and waved it under her nose. Reginald turned red, then purple. Louisa sat stunned, hatred glaring from her eyes. “You cannot do that,” she finally said.

  Neil wanted to enter the conversation, but knew that would not be welcome. Janet wanted no assistance, particularly from him. She was, in fact, almost daring him.

  He leaned back and poured himself a glass of wine.

  She shot a glance at him, then her gaze returned to her in-laws. “I am not sure when we will return, but I feel certain that Mr. Forbes will do what is necessary for you to continue as you have.”

  “Which is poor indeed,” Louisa said. “Your husband never meant us to be beggars in our own home.”

  “It would not have been necessary if you had used some judgment,” Janet replied with steely determination. It was obvious she was throwing down the gauntlet.

  Reginald had turned various shades of red. At the moment, he was ruby in color. “I am not going to be scolded or reprimanded by a gel, much less a Jacobite.”

  Marjorie gave Janet a withering glance, then turned to Neil. “Certainly you do not countenance this disrespect to her husband’s family?”

  He shrugged. “Disrespect? I consider it common sense.”

  Louisa coughed and wine came sprinkling out of her mouth.

  Marjorie turned to Janet. “I have … friends. My husband was a Campbell.”

  “Then I suggest you visit them if you are so uncomfortable,” Janet said.

  Marjorie looked back at Neil fo
r the smallest sign of support.

  He yawned.

  Marjorie bit her lip. “My lord …”

  “Aye,” he said.

  “I plead with you to be fair. My son has just died and …”

  “I realize that, madam. That is exactly why I have invited my lady to visit. This home contains too many sorrows. And Lochaene is far poorer than it should be. It has been poorly managed. If you and your family have any hope of improving your lot, you should be most pleased at the decisions she has made.”

  If he’d expected any approval from Janet, he was quickly disabused of the notion. She shot a look of distrust toward him that was no less fervent than the ones she’d just aimed at her relatives. It was fortunate, he thought, that they were too distraught to notice.

  Marjorie obviously was weighing the advantages of stalking out or staying and trying to cajole Braemoor, whom she obviously considered an upstart and intruder.

  Reginald had taken another glass of wine and sunk down in his chair, his gaze centering completely on the decanter of wine.

  “Surely you would not take the advice of a woman above that of my son?” she tried again. “Janet has never conducted business.”

  “But she has the principal necessities: common sense and a care for the tenants who depend on Lochaene. Jock can do much of the rest. He knows farming and how to deal with tenants. That should please you.”

  “Please us?” Marjorie said. “You are beggaring us to add Lochaene to your own holdings. I heard that Cumberland …” She stopped suddenly.

  “Cumberland … what?” he asked after a moment’s silence. Janet looked at Marjorie, then at him. Her eyes showed no emotion. She was keeping that hidden deep inside.