Love Saves A Highland Spy: Ladies of Dunmore Series (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story)

by Freya, Bridget

  Moreover, even if he wasn’t a laird’s son, would it really matter to anyone directly involved? Would they really refuse him?

  Francis knew what must be done. He had to speak directly with his uncle; he had to get confirmation. If it was true, he would know, but if it was not true, then Francis would finally have the freedom he had long sought. He would know that his marriage to Arabella was an open door that he could finally step into without fear or hesitation.

  Exhaustion aside, Francis stood from the chair. The bed looked utterly inviting, but he looked beyond it to the door. With determination, Francis walked through.

  He made his way to his uncle’s room and knocked on the door lightly, trying not to barge in even though he felt like being forceful and determined.

  The door opened, revealing his uncle standing half clothed, looking like a fool. Francis was relieved that it was the lower half that was covered.

  “Francis…what are ye doing here, lad?” his uncle asked in bewilderment.

  Francis inhaled to muster strength and bravery. “Uncle, I am here to speak with ye about a very important matter. A matter ye believe to have been settled, but I am not so resolved as ye,” he saw, drawing courage.

  “Mm-hmm…” his uncle said, knowing what was to come of this conversation.

  “I must ask ye the truth. About me mum. About what ye said all those years ago. I need to ken the truth. How ye came to ken of it, and what proof ye have for it. I have to ken where this rumor came from, Uncle. How was it started?” Francis asked in a rush, desperate to have answers.

  His uncle grunted in frustration. “Ye’re a fool, lad. Ye come here because ye want to deny what’s right in front of ye, what everyone kens already. Ye come here and ye challenge me, question me!” he raged.

  “I’m not questioning ye, I’m questioning the truth of a rumor,” Francis defended, trying to remain calm and even tempered despite the roar of anger that boiled inside his chest. His uncle was such a hot-tempered man that Francis knew he had to be the one who remained cool.

  “What’s the matter with ye? Cannae admit that she was a whore? Cannae accept that yer mum was good for nothing? A waste of yer faither’s generosity in marrying her? Ye ken ye’re the only child she ever gave him and everyone kens why. It’s because of her sin.

  “She was made barren because she gave her body to other men. Men who were nothing compared to yer faither, ye fool,” he spat.

  Francis could hardly contain himself. That darkness within him, that rage that he always struggled to control, was unbearable. Hearing his mother spoken of this way was more than he had anticipated, no matter how awful his uncle might be.

  “Dare ye speak of her thus?” Francis asked, his voice wavering on the edge of hatred.

  “I speak of truth. Isnae that what ye came here for? Truth? Well here it is. Yer mum was less than filth and ye were her punishment. After ye, she was barren. And the poor laird was left with nothing but a temptress wife and a bastard son and the best thing that ever happened to him was her death,” he seethed, enraged.

  The scathing speech of this horrid man was the limit of what Francis could endure. He wondered that his uncle hadn’t been killed long before by some man who hated him as much as Francis did in this moment. He was a man with a poor reputation, known for being terrible most of the time. So why was Francis surprised at this? Why was he surprised that his uncle had spoken so hatefully and brutally toward him?

  Francis reeled in his disgust, calming his heart before deciding what to say next.

  “I’m right, lad. Yer mum was what I said she was. Deny it all ye like, but it’s the damnedest truth. She was filth and ye’re her offspring. Can ye think what that makes ye? Ye ought to. Ye would be better off just going to the laird now and telling him ye’re finally willing to forfeit yer title since ye’re not really his son,” he spat again.

  Francis imagined the relief of beating his uncle to the ground, punching him until he was a bloody pulp, less than a man, unrecognizable. However, he refrained. He knew it would only cause further problems.

  For now, he would simply turn, leave, and find the messenger to take his letter back to his superior.

  As Francis exited the door, hearing words continuing to echo from his uncle, he made every effort to block them out and remember that as the laird’s son, he had to keep himself controlled. Composure was evidence of his breeding. It was proof that he was beyond the filthy terms that were used by his uncle to describe him.

  Indeed, it was evidence that he was a better man than the very uncle he was trying not to destroy.

  Chapter 22

  A Dinner Party With Little To Reveal

  A knock sounded at the door and Arabella opened it.

  “Thank ye, Daisy,” she said, accepting the tea that had been brought for her by one of the house maids.

  “Ye’re welcome, me lady. Is there anything else for ye?” the young woman asked.

  “No, thank ye, that’s all. Actually, would ye mind if I add a bit of washing to yer load?” Arabella asked, remembering that she was down to only one clean dress remaining.

  “Of course, me lady,” Daisy replied.

  Arabella handed her three gowns. Poor Daisy was nearly swallowed up by the exaggerated garments. However, Arabella was grateful. She would need something to wear since she had no idea how much longer she would be here in Edinburgh.

  She had assumed that it would only be three or four days, but at this point, it could be another few weeks for all the information she had received.

  Arabella continued to get ready for her time with Lady Anisette. She wanted to be as presentable as she could be, looking worth her host’s station and holding herself as if she were at a high status.

  It wouldn’t do much good to pretend, but Arabella didn’t have any other idea. She needed to prove her worth for a woman like that, needed to prove even to herself that she was a woman of quality.

  More than that, however, Arabella needed to prove herself worthy of Francis. If she was going to spend time with Lady Anisette, it had to be time that showed what an excellent young woman she was, what a benefit she would be to their family. She desired Lady Anisette’s approval regarding her possible future with Francis as much as she desired anything.

  Arabella thought about the man, with his brooding temper and soft kindness, a man of contrasts, deep and conflicting. He was a fierce fighter and a kind friend. She had never known such a man, but Francis proved that man could exist in these two parts, he proved that he did not have to conform to one or the other, but could be a blend of so many different things.

  In addition to that, he was utterly handsome. There was no denying how his appearance affected her, how he charmed her and swayed her with his very being. Arabella constantly felt dizzy when she saw him, when she considered his smile and the slight curl of his hair, the deep growl of his voice.

  Yes, he had impacted her greatly, she realized. Arabella wanted to know him better, to be closer, and to understand every part of him.

  However, all of that started with this. All of it came down to trying to help him overcome the things that wounded him. Whether the rumors were true or not, she needed to encourage him that he was not defined by them.

  The worst that could happen was finding out that the rumors were true, that his mother had been unfaithful. If it were true, what then?

  Francis could deny the lairdship that was considered his birthright. He could move on and make his way as a soldier and man among his clan and the Jacobites. He would have to live with a slander, but he would hardly be the only man in the clan born out of unfaithfulness. Moreover, he could always come and stay at Dunmore, where fewer people had heard the tale.

  It would not be easy, but it was an option.

  Of course, there was the best scenario. They might learn that none of it was true at all, just a bit of nasty gossip. Francis could live happily knowing that he was indeed the son of the laird.

  Perhaps not knowing was really t
he worst position. It had already been torturous for Francis; Arabella didn’t want to see him live through that anymore.

  Whatever they discovered, or did not discover, Arabella knew that she wanted to be by Francis’ side when it happened. She wanted to be there for him, to help him through any eventuality.

  The trouble, Arabella knew, was that if Francis proved to have no noble blood, she would be unable to wed him. He would be cast into the dregs of normal people, those whom Arabella could associate with but little. For a woman of her station, it was only to be charitable that she could spend much time with those not born of rank. Of course, she didn’t always abide by this. She loved Joanna’s company and used every small cut or every dress needing a hem as an excuse to see the mysterious young woman.

  Arabella finished dressing and made her way out to the coach that was to take her to Lady Anisette’s estate. The ride was short and bumpy, as it had been before.

  Along the journey, Arabella could think of little else than the stolen kisses she and Francis had shared thus far. Those moments of excitement and joy were some of the best she had ever imagined. With his soft, kind lips on hers, it was as if the whole of the world had melted away and only the two of them remained.

  She could not let go of these thoughts. He was too much a part of her life now to forget even for a moment. Francis McNeil had changed everything for Arabella.

  It was strange to think that she had so recently been just another Lady of Dunmore, watching her friends run off and get married while she remained behind, assuming she might never find love herself. Then, as if out of nowhere, Francis had appeared, like a knight in shining armor.

  He had come to the estate, a ward just like herself. He had shown up as a surprise, a dream, and a moody, impatient, warmonger he seemed.

  Nevertheless, he had been nothing of the sort in reality. He was simply insecure because of the rumors his uncle had started. Beyond that, he was a good man. A man who had been hurt time and time again, that was true, but one deserving of so much better.

  Arabella intended to give him better.

  Now here she was, from that lonely girl in the castle to this young woman in Edinburgh, skirting her chaperone to pay visits to grand women who were actually grandmothers and trying to uncover a deep secret that would set free the man she had come to love more than anything in the world.

  Arabella laughed to herself. If only Colla could see her now! Colla, who had always teased her cousins and friends about their lack of adventure compared to her. She had always been the bright spot amongst them. Arabella could hardly believe that now. Here she was, a brave, adventurous girl.

  She knew that her life would never be the same hereafter.

  A bump in the road jolted her and Arabella remembered it from her time before at Lady Anisette’s. They had almost arrived.

  She tried to return her thoughts to the mission at hand. As she watched the light fade in the sky, she thought only of Francis and what she had to learn.

  Finally the coach stopped and Arabella was assisted out. She looked up at the estate, still as exquisite as before. She didn’t think she would ever get over the beauty of Edinburgh and all of its architecture. It was more than just Lady Anisette’s estate. It was everywhere. It even rivaled the beauty of nature.

  Making her way up the stairs and into the estate, Arabella readied herself for a conversation that might prove difficult. Nevertheless, it was important and she knew that well.

  “Welcome, lass, please come in!” Lady Anisette greeted. Arabella smiled and bowed her head slightly.

  “Lady Anisette, thank ye for having me,” she said in reply.

  “It’s me pleasure. I enjoyed yer company before and I’m glad to have ye back again,” Lady Anisette said.

  Arabella followed her back into the parlor, where they sat to talk for a while before dinner was served. The conversation began easily enough with chat about the weather, society, tea, and other small things.

  Arabella knew that she was simply biding her time until it was appropriate to ask about the things that she truly needed to know, to understand.

  Finally, the opportunity came, when Lady Anisette asked Arabella how her family was doing. She replied that she had not heard from her faither in quite some time, but didn’t expect to as a result of his decline in health.

  Lady Anisette was compassionate. “I am so sorry, dearie. Ye must miss him a terrible lot,” she said.

  “Aye, I do. But I ken he has a longer life in the east where the weather is hot and he isnae plagued so much by the rain,” Arabella replied.

  Lady Anisette nodded in agreement.

  “I actually wished to ask ye a question,” Arabella finally said. “I heard that ye are the grandmother of one of the other wards staying at Dunmore. Mr. Francis McNeil. Is that so?”

  Lady Anisette glanced at her slyly.

  “Aye, it’s so. Francis is me grandson. A good lad, he is. Well, so long as he’s holding his temper together, and that’s a rare occurrence,” Lady Anisette laughed.

  Arabella gave a wan smile. She knew the truth of that.

  “But aye, he’s the lad of me daughter, the one I mentioned before,” Lady Anisette confirmed.

  Arabella considered what she might say next. “I thought as much. And I ken what ye mean about the temper, but I have to say, he has improved even in the short time I’ve kenned him,” she said.

  Lady Anisette raised an eyebrow. “Did ye ever think that perhaps ye are the reason his temper has improved?”

  Arabella felt the blood rush to her cheeks. She had been too obvious. Lady Anisette suspected that there was, indeed, something between her and Francis. It was rather embarrassing. It didn’t matter too much, she supposed. The woman had wisdom and was bound to have an understanding of these things even when Arabella did not.

  “I cannae think so, yer ladyship,” Arabella laughed. She knew what the woman was getting at, but remained embarrassed to think that it was so apparent as that.

  “I can…” she replied.

  It was quiet for a moment, awkward even. Arabella decided to proceed with her questions. “Lady Anisette, I have another question,” she began. “Please understand that I do not wish to bring up anything that’s painful for ye, but it’s about yer daughter, Francis’ mum.”

  Lady Anisette sat a little straighter and gave Arabella an eye that warned her not to continue in this line of dialogue.

  “I understand that Francis is troubled by rumors. He struggles a lot. I think his uncle-”

  “That man is a horrid beast,” Lady Anisette spat.

  “Aye, I cannae deny that-”

  “And ye cannae trust a word from his mouth. He’s poison,” Lady Anisette continued.

  “Lass, whatever ye think ye’re doing, coming here and asking me about all of this, ye needn’t have bothered. I have nothing to say to ye on this matter. Falsehoods spread by a power hungry git are not me problem to worry about. Ye can care about me grandson, but beyond that, dinnae get involved,” Lady Anisette commanded.

  Arabella felt her mouth hanging open, needing to apologize but frightened to make a sound.

  “Now, I’ll ask the kitchen staff to have yer food put in a dish that ye can eat at yer home, or whatever that place is, run by the worst of men. Ye should ken I only attended because I wanted to see Francis. And I scarcely ever get to see him. But beyond that, I’ve nothing more to say to ye,” Lady Anisette stated firmly.

  Arabella felt horrible. She had not meant to wound the stately woman so badly. Alas, she had made a grave mistake that had cost her all of her questions, caused her to grieve a woman whose approval she desperately sought.

  “Lady Anisette, please forgive me…” she said quietly.

  “I will, lass. But not right now. Come to me at another time, when I’ve cooled off and we can speak of other things. But for now, I dinnae want anyone’s presence,” she said offhandedly.

  Arabella felt confusion overpower her. She was embarrassed, but more than
anything ashamed of having pushed Lady Anisette too far. How could she have known? How could she have prepared for this sort of response?

  It was overwhelming to have failed so terribly and to have offended this woman she had come to care for. Arabella simply stood and curtseyed at the woman, who had turned her face away.

  Leaving through the door of the parlor, one of the maids was just coming to announce dinner, but upon seeing Arabella’s wide-eyed confusion, seemed hesitant. Arabella did not stay to see what might happen next, did not wait for a bit of food, but rather left through the front door and found her coach, which she eagerly climbed into and headed for home.

  The whole of the journey was a bit of an agony. Arabella’s mind was plagued with ways she could have approached the subject differently. Such as if she had started on the defensive toward Jeanne.

  “Mr. McNeil is a very great man. If only his uncle were better. And the laird seems to believe even the falsest of words from his brother’s lips…” she could have said.

  Or, “Oh, Lady Anisette, ye are a remarkable woman. It’s such a shame that yer daughter isnae here still. I ken it must have been very hard losing her. Can ye tell me more about her? Francis speaks so highly of her,” was another option.

  It was too late now though. Arabella had chosen to open her mouth and push the poor old woman about her deceased daughter, whose reputation had been called into question.

  Wisdom was not on Arabella’s side. She could have even left it for another time, rather than jumping into the conversation so soon into the relationship that was being established.

  Regret was useless. What Arabella needed was to think in the present, to use foresight and make decisions based on what she knew better.

  She would have to apologize to Francis and, in a few days, come back to beg Lady Anisette’s forgiveness.

  Chapter 23

  A Ride To Find The Heart

  “We would love it if ye came with us,” invited Donal Sutherland.