The Heart Queen

by Patricia Potter

  “Dear sir,” she started. “I am writing on behalf of the Marquis of Braemoor. He is trying to find members of his mother’s family and would like you to instigate a search. His grandmother’s maiden name was Wadsworth. Please do not contact them, but direct your reply to me.”

  She addressed it. She would have to get back into his office and use his seal.

  She fingered it for several moments, wondering if she were doing the right thing. She recalled the granite look of Neil’s face when he had talked about his past. He had accepted it, that much was clear. She was not sure whether he would choose to reopen what was obviously a raw wound. But at least she would have a name for him.

  And then it would be up to him as to whether he cared enough about her to fight not only her enemies but his own secret ones.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Home. Odd how the word had so much meaning now.

  It was not the stone edifice. It was the woman and children inside.

  His heart speeded as he approached. He had thought of little more than Janet on his journey back from his coast. He had detoured to see Alex on the return, and had discovered a man well pleased with himself.

  It had taken two days from the coast to see Alex and another two days to get back to Braemoor, and that was only by riding day and night. He had been away from Janet for more than a week, and it seemed a century. He did not know what he would do when she, and the children, left for good. A rare joy would leave his life.

  But that would be a while. In the meantime, he would enjoy her. And her lasses and the bairn. He yearned to protect her, care for her, bring smiles and laughter to her face, and to her heart.

  And his own. God knew it had been bereft for a long time. Bereft and lonely and hardened. No matter what the future held, it was good to feel again.

  The sun was setting behind Braemoor. No mist today, or fog, or rain. Instead, rays hit the gray of the stone and appeared to bring it to life.

  Then he saw Janet, and the red of the sun reflected the gold in her hair. She was bending over, balancing Colin as he tottered away from her toward his oldest sister. Then Rachel said something, and she looked in his direction. Neil saw her blinding smile, and it made his heart ricochet in his chest. He thought about seeing it every day, then quickly crushed that thought.

  Janet loved children. She had every right to have more of her own. And she had every right to be loved as a woman should be loved, not only in part. Not with shadows lurking ominously about.

  He rode to her and slid down wearily from the saddle. Annabella launched herself at him, and he reached out and took her up in his arms and whirled her around once, relishing her laughter and treasuring her hug. Then he let her down, and somehow his hand caught hers, and her warmth flowed through him, filling every empty part.

  Then Grace was in front of him, her usually solemn eyes shining. “Thank you for the pony.”

  He stooped down as he had seen Alex do and looked directly into her blue eyes. “You are welcome, lass.”

  “I love him.”

  “Well, God created ponies to be loved.” The words surprised him, but they apparently delighted her.

  Her smile widened. “I will take very good care of him.”

  “You take good care of everyone,” he observed. And she did, with her earnest face and too-serious eyes. Now, though, they glowed.

  “I take good care of mine, too,” Annabella protested at losing his attention.

  “You do not,” Rachel disagreed. “Jamie has to help you.”

  “She’s not the grown lass you are,” Neil interjected.

  Rachel straightened up, a satisfied look on her face.

  Colin, evidently sensing he was being left out, tottered over to him, and Neil released Annabella’s hand to catch him just as he started to fall. Colin grinned at him, and Neil found himself grinning back. “Adventuresome little lad,” he said.

  Colin gurgled his assent and his hand touched Neil’s face.

  The touch was quizzical, the small hand soft. But there was a trust in the gesture that made him melt inside. He swallowed hard. Here was everything he’d never even dared to dream about. He was chagrined to feel moisture building behind his eyes.

  He handed Colin to his mother and saw the warm understanding in her eyes.

  “I need a bath,” he said awkwardly, only too aware that he had been riding nearly nonstop for six days and he smelled more like a horse than the horse did.

  “And some food, I would suppose,” she said.

  “Aye, that would be welcome.”

  “And you have news?”

  “Aye. It is good, lass, but must wait.” He did not want the small children involved. They could not tell secrets they had not heard.

  Then he noticed Kevin standing not far away. A musket was nearby, leaning against the stable. He raised an eyebrow in question.

  “Later,” Janet said, her gaze going back to the children.

  He nodded. His hand touched Colin’s mop of brown hair, then he turned and went into the house.

  The children would eat with Clara this evening. Their manners had improved in the last three nights, but she needed—wanted—time alone with Neil.

  He appeared in the dining room, his hair still wet and slightly curling. He was dressed in his usual preference of clothes: dark breeches, top boots, and a white linen shirt laced at the neck. He looked virile and handsome in the casual attire. She knew he disdained the usual fripperies such as padded breeches and knee buckles. But austerity suited him.

  He bowed slightly. “My lady.”

  She curtsied. “My lord.”

  The words were said in low and intense voices and Janet knew they sounded more like a love song than a courtesy. The room, in truth, sizzled with emotions. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but instead simply stood there, her legs as wobbly as Colin’s had been.

  He offered her his arm and seated her, then sat opposite.

  “Why did Kevin have a weapon?”

  “Two men came here while we were in Edinburgh. Torquil told me they intended to take Colin back to Lochaene. They said it was by Reginald’s order. He refused, and the men you left here, along with Kevin and Jamie, told them to leave. Kevin, however, has seen them nearby. I have not gone anywhere or let the children out alone since.”

  “They must have been waiting for us to leave,” Neil said. “I will have men comb the area tomorrow. If they are still here, I will know exactly what Reginald intended.”

  “If anything happens to Colin, Reginald inherits,” she said, worrying her lip.

  “He must have believed it was a surety that Cumberland would arrest you.” Neil took a sip of wine. “It suits our plan that he lost this round. He should be very susceptible to an offer by the Black Knave. We must now prepare for our great masquerade ball.”

  “Ball?” Janet asked. She knew only the barest outline of what he had been plotting; only that he would somehow throw suspicion on Reginald.

  He grinned. “Aye, I think it is time for the new Marquis of Braemoor to emerge in society. That, of course, will be the occasion. Everyone will come. Curiosity will compel them. Mayhap even His Grace may honor us. Or some of his staff.”

  “And my role?”

  “Ghostly,” he said. “Your brother and I worked out the details,” he said. “He apparently makes a very believable Black Knave.”

  She sat and listened, her amazement growing at the audacity of his plan. The one problem that had worried her conscience—that Reginald might not be guilty of the accidents—was solved. If he did not act to harm her or the children, then Neil’s plan would not work.

  “When?”

  “The ball will be in three weeks. Alexander will be on a ship in three and a half weeks.”

  “And I will never see him again,” Janet said sadly. “’Tis hard to find him, only to lose him again.”

  “There are ways, Janet,” he said.

  “And the children with him?”

  “He makes
a fine surrogate father,” Neil said. “He will make sure they are safe.”

  “’Tis difficult to imagine him that way. He was always a rake.”

  Something crossed Neil’s face.

  “Neil?”

  “I told you he had been scarred. I want you to be prepared.”

  Joy coursed through her. “I will see him?”

  “I am trying to arrange a brief meeting,” he said.

  She hugged the thought, the hope. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He nodded. “Now we will work on the invitations tomorrow,” he said. “We will have to employ more people to help us.”

  “I do not think we will have any problem doing that,” she said.

  “Nay. I have not done yet all I wanted to do. It will give some enough to survive more comfortably through the winter.”

  “I have interfered with your plans,” she said sadly.

  “Nay, lass,” he said. “You have taught me to care about life again, and it will make me a far better landlord.”

  There was a sadness in his eyes. She wondered whether she should tell him what she had learned from Torquil or wait until she heard more from the solicitor. She did not want to raise his hopes only to have them dashed.

  She would wait. Then, regardless of the answer, she would tell him.

  They ate, he more hungrily than she had ever seen him. She wondered how much he’d had in the past week. She could not even imagine how much he’d given up for her. And now he was risking even more. He was committing treason.

  She was no longer hungry. She remembered how he looked when Colin reached out his hand to his face. The wistful longing in his eyes. He was a man filled with love. He’d tried to suppress it because he thought he had no right to it, and that hurt her more than anything else. She would gladly become his wife under any conditions. But she knew he would never agree.

  So, instead, she watched him eat. He did it as carefully, even methodically, as he did most things. But now she knew that other side of him: daring and loving. But controlled. Even his recklessness was controlled.

  Torquil hovered over them both, taking away dishes and replacing them with new ones. His eyes were more anxious than ever. She wondered how much he had heard. Or whether he would tell Neil about her questions.

  Neil rose and went to her side of the table, pulling the chair out for her. She stood and looked up at him. She was inches away, but his expression told her it might as well be a mile. Still, his hand touched her cheek. “Good night, Janet.”

  She nodded, wishing he would take her with him. But he had that determined glint in his eyes that were red from exhaustion. She had meant to ask him whether he wanted to say good night to the children, but mayhap tomorrow.

  Instead, she turned and walked from the room and up the stairs, aware that he was not behind her, that he had gone into his office.

  She missed him already.

  The lasses woke her up. They jumped on the bed and giggled like the little girls they were. At one time she had thought she would never hear the sound; they had been so terrified of their father.

  Colin was gurgling in his bed. “Grace, will you get your brother?”

  Grace immediately went over to Colin and picked him up, cradling him as if she were the mother. He grinned at her. “He needs changing,” she said.

  “Aye, I would think so,” she said, stretching and clearing the lasses off the bed. She gave each one a kiss and sent them off to the nursery to get dressed. Then she changed Colin. Clara could do it, but she took pleasure in every moment with him, unlike Louisa, who wanted as little to do with the chores of motherhood as possible. She liked to see him smile when she touched him, liked to listen to him chatter. It would not be long before he disdained such closeness.

  She finished and set him on the floor where he promptly started exploring with those unsteady but now plump little legs. She brushed her hair to a fine sheen, then put on a clean chemise. She thought about wearing a corset, then decided against it. She was already slender and she had enjoyed the freedom she had since her husband’s death. Instead, she chose a simple dress that laced in front. She had just about finished when Lucy appeared with a tray with hot chocolate, some buns and a bowl of fruit. “The master sent this up for you, my lady,” she said. Her face fell when she saw that her mistress was already dressed. “I dinna mean to be late.”

  “I would have called you had I needed you,” she said. “The marquis?”

  “He went riding,” she said.

  She wished he had asked her to go, too. But she knew now why he was trying to distance himself. She only hoped she could discover the truth about his family, and that that truth would be the one that she wanted.

  Alex watched as Reginald Campbell rode away from Lochaene. He was a poor rider, and apparently made up for his discomfort by taking it out on the animal.

  Sympathy flooded Alex for the horse. And for his sister, who had lived in this household for three years. He would enjoy this role.

  Alex had been waiting now for two days for his chance. He had to meet Reginald alone. He had to prompt Reginald into making an offer that the Black Knave could not refuse. And now that the Black Knave had made his presence known with three robberies, he should have no problem in convincing the man that Cumberland’s nemesis had returned.

  He fell in behind Campbell. The man was dressed for visiting, not for a ride, and thus would take the road. Alex knew exactly where he wanted to intercept him. Thank God that Braemoor had taken the Lochaene carriage, leaving Campbell with few options of transportation.

  Alex also knew that Braemoor had cut off Campbell’s income. He must be desperate by now.

  He rode at a leisurely pace. The road was a lonely one, though it wended to the main road to Edinburgh. He wondered whether that was Reginald’s destination. Well, he would not make it. Not today. At least not as quickly as he had expected.

  Alex knew he had to strike before they reached the more heavily trafficked Edinburgh road.

  He veered off the road and skirted it, prodding his horse into a gallop. He’d been familiar with this land even before the past year. Lochaene and his own family’s land had not been that far apart. And in the last few months, he had crisscrossed it, had hidden among its hills and moors.

  He continued to ride hard until he emerged at a point that Reginald would have to pass. He waited until he heard hoofbeats, then rode out to meet him, pistol in hand.

  Reginald’s mount came to a stop. The man’s florid face paled when he saw the mask and pistol.

  Alex bowed and flipped a jack of spades toward him. It landed on the ground, but Reginald knew its significance.

  “What do you want?” he blustered.

  “That you leave the road, at the moment,” Alex said. He used his free hand to gesture toward the forest on their left.

  “And if I refuse?”

  “You will not live beyond the next moment.”

  Reginald guided his horse in the direction Alex had indicated. Once out of sight of the road, Alex told him to dismount. Reginald did not move.

  Alex audibly sighed. “I am a man of little patience.”

  Reginald dismounted.

  “Do you have a weapon?”

  Silence.

  Alex sighed again, his thumb moving back on the flintlock.

  “Aye,” Reginald said.

  “Ah, a truthful man, albeit reluctantly.”

  Alex swung down from his horse and went to Reginald’s saddlebags. They were bulging. He found the pistol, put it in his own saddlebags, and bowed mockingly. “Thank you, my lord. And now for your ransom, I will take your purse and jewelry.”

  “I … I have no money. Only a few coins. I am … a poor man.”

  “That is unfortunate for you.”

  “I thought … you assisted people in leaving Scotland.”

  “For a price,” Alex said. “But I do have my needs, and the English, and those who serve them, appear to have all the wealth. I feel that separ
ating the two is my sworn duty. And now, my lord, I must decide what to do with you since you have none.”

  Speculation suddenly came into Reginald’s eyes, just as Braemoor had predicted. “I have none now, but I can promise you much if …”

  Alex’s apparent but silent interest prompted him to continue.

  “If a certain lady has an accident,” Reginald said, watching his eyes closely. It was obvious he felt safe enough making the offer to a much-wanted fugitive.

  “A lady?”

  “A murderess. She killed my brother so she could control his estate. It would be justice,” he added pompously.

  “Ah, justice. A noble aim, indeed. And how much could I expect for administering this … justice?”

  “Sanctuary at my estate,” Reginald said. “And a hundred quid.”

  “Why should I believe you? It could be a trap. The reward on my head is more than that.”

  Alex saw that Reginald’s eyes were gleaming now. He obviously thought he had finally found a way to dispose of the one obstacle in his path. His proposal had not been rejected outright. And he was still alive. Alex could almost read his mind. Greed. It did strange things to reason. Reginald believed he could get rid of both of them. The interesting thing about not very intelligent men was that they always thought they were smarter than they actually were. And they often thought other men were as venal as they themselves might be.

  “I give you my oath,” Reginald said.

  Alex threw back his head and laughed. “You ask me to murder someone, then offer your word. Surely I must have something stronger than that.”

  Reginald was growing more confident. “What would you suggest?”

  “The Lochaene seal,” Alex said. “And a note saying you owe me one hundred quid.”

  The man stared at him. “How did you know about Lochaene?”

  Alex looked at the fingernails of his left hand in a gesture of careless contempt. “I know everything. I followed you from there.”

  “Why me?”

  “You are the last gentry around with money. I have already relieved the others of valuables.”

  Alex knew Reginald must have heard of the Black Knave thefts. He should be wondering now how many others he’d not heard about. “I willna put anything in writing.”