by Jarecki, Amy
Weariness caught up with him as he brushed the sand off his doublet. He needed a meal, a bath, and a bed in that order.
“Have you given any thought as to what you’ll do with the lass?”
Reid’s gut twisted into a knot. He didn’t have many options. He most certainly didn’t need a child disrupting order at Brahan Castle—especially when he was away more often than not. “Boarding school, of course.”
“Brilliant. I should have thought of that.”
It wasn’t brilliant, though it was where most heiresses went for finishing in this day and age.
The tension clamping Reid’s shoulders had almost eased when a high-pitched scream resounded above stairs. The sound wasn’t that of a young child, but one of a feral animal in deathly agony.
Dear God, what have I drawn myself into?
Chapter Two
Audrey flung herself across the bed and wailed into the pillow. In a heartbeat her entire life shattered.
Papa gone?
How could this have happened?
No, no, no. Not Papa. He was kind and giving, and the only person Audrey knew who understood her. Who understood what it was like to be deathly shy.
She’d only arrived home and had done nothing but plan the summer together with her father. There were outings and riding excursions and hunting quests yet to be enjoyed.
Never to be enjoyed.
“Nooooooooooooo!” she cried, her insides shredding with her grief.
He cannot be gone.
Completely unable to control her sobs, Audrey rocked back and forth, clutching the pillow. How could she carry on? She was now an orphan. There were no aunts, no uncles. Her grandparents had passed away years ago.
Her chamber door opened, but Audrey didn’t care. She couldn’t move, let alone look up to see who it was.
“Please, Miss Audrey.” Mrs. Hobbs’s voice sounded strained. “The Earl of Seaforth has been awaiting you in the parlor for over an hour.”
Gasping and taking staccato breaths, she tried to calm herself enough to reply. “Can he not come back on the morrow? I am too distraught to receive guests.” Audrey knew nothing of this man who’d brought the news of her father’s death. What was a mere hour? For pity’s sake Gerald had only just delivered the news and now she was expected to compose her person and meet a complete stranger? Mrs. Hobbs moved to the bedside. “I’ve brought you a tincture of chamomile to calm your nerves. You are the mistress of the Kennet estate now, miss. You mustn’t keep the earl waiting.”
I don’t want to be a mistress at the age of nineteen. Audrey buried her face in the pillow.
The maid swirled a soothing palm over Audrey’s shoulder. “I know, dear. But we all must see to our duty.”
Taking a deep breath, Audrey willed herself to gain a modicum of control. She swiped her eyes and sat up, clutching the pillow to her abdomen. “I’d prefer to be left alone.”
Mrs. Hobbs reached for the cup. “Have a sip of my tincture. It will help calm your nerves before you venture below stairs.”
Nodding, Audrey accepted the cup and drank. At least the warm liquid soothed the burning in her throat.
“Have a brief chat with the earl, and then I’ll draw you a warm bath.”
“I don’t want a bath. I want Papa back.”
“I think we all do, miss. ’Tis a most unwelcome shock.” Mrs. Hobbs sniffed and gave Audrey a kerchief.
With a sigh, Audrey cast the pillow aside, wiped her eyes, and sat a bit taller. Across the chamber, she caught her reflection in the full-length looking glass. She looked a fright with flyaways sticking out every which way, her eyes red and swollen like plums. Hiding her face in her hands, she shook her head. “I cannot possibly venture below stairs looking like this.”
“Come.” The maid took Audrey’s hand and pulled her from the bed to the washstand. She poured a bit of water over her hands and shook them into the bowl. “I’ll just pat your hair down and pinch your cheeks, and you’ll be right to go.”
“I would prefer to remain here and wallow in misery.”
“But you must. Your father would have expected it.”
The mention of Papa brought on a wave of melancholy that Audrey stifled by clapping a hand over her mouth. “You are right. I admit. The sooner I get this over with, the better.”
* * *
Unaccustomed to being made to wait for anyone or anything, Reid paced in front of the hearth. An hour ago, he’d sent Dunn and the men out to ensure they hadn’t been followed. Though he was confident the naval threat had passed, Reid never left anything to chance. With a bit of effort, in as little as a fortnight, he could ensure the estate’s affairs were in order and send the lassie to the nearest boarding school. He’d have to see her on holidays and whatnot, but by then he’d have a chance to arrange for a governess and whatever staff the young gel needed.
When he finally heard footsteps coming down the stairs, he faced the entry with his most somber expression, ruing the task before him. Even in all the time he’d been waiting, he still hadn’t come up with any gentle words to deliver the worst news this little girl—no doubt cossetted all her life—had ever heard.
With a bowed head and folded hands, the lass stepped into the parlor.
“Lord Reid MacKenzie, Earl of Seaforth, allow me to introduce Miss Audrey Kennet,” said the butler before taking his leave.
Reid blinked in utter astonishment. Then he gulped. This was no wee lass. A woman fully grown stood before him, staring at her clasped fingers. “Ah…” Remembering his station, he bowed. “Miss Kennet. Please allow me to offer my most heartfelt condolences.”
Her gaze flickered up and met his with a pair of very red and swollen eyes. Flinching as if mortified to be in his presence, Miss Audrey quickly looked to her hands again as if those slender fingers provided her salvation. The lass’s nose was redder than her eyes, and her blonde tresses appeared as if she’d just lost a fight with a wildcat. But the thing that twisted Reid’s gut into a knot was that he’d completely underestimated the enormity of the promise he’d made to this lassie’s father. Wee Miss Audrey could be no less than sixteen years of age, and quite possibly older.
He gestured to a chair, waited for her to take a seat, then sat opposite.
“Can you tell me what happened, m’lord?” she asked tremulously, almost in a whisper.
“We were returning from France…” He explained it all, including the fact he believed the navy ship had only intended to fire a warning shot across the galley’s bow. All the while, Miss Kennet kept her eyes averted and listened quietly while she twisted a kerchief between her fists. “Your father’s last request was for me to become your guardian and—”
“Guardian?” she said, her voice shooting up. A blush spread across her entire face, but she continued to keep her gaze lowered, twisting her kerchief as if she could wring it to death.
He adjusted his scratchy, sea-salt-encrusted cravat. “I assure you. I am of sound means and quite capable.”
Her lips disappeared into a thin line, but she didn’t look up. “I fear I am too old to have a guardian, my lord,” she whispered.
He regarded the lass with a more critical eye. “What, pray tell, is your age?”
“If you must know, my nineteenth saint’s day came a fortnight past.” She raised her chin.
Merciful Father, it was a good thing Reid was sitting. He’d taken a solemn oath to be the guardian for a woman past her majority? What in God’s name was he supposed to do with a woman fully grown?
“Indeed, ‘guardian’ isn’t the right word in this instance,” Reid spoke aloud. “Mayhap my role is more one of benefactor in this instance. I did give your father my word I would see to your care.” His mind raced to come up with a solution. “Have you attended finishing school?”
“Of course.” She rolled her eyes aloft—very dark blue eyes. “I graduated only last month from Talcott Ladies’ Finishing School.”
Given she was nineteen years of age, his questio
n had been rather absurd. Nonetheless, the sooner he was relieved of this burden, the better. “What about marriage prospects? As an heiress, I’d imagine you’ve been to court?”
She twisted the kerchief so tight, her knuckles were white. “Court is mortifying.”
“Have any gentlemen come to call…ah…recently?”
“I’ve only been home for a few sennights, and most of that time, Papa has been away.”
Good Lord, what was Reid to do with an heiress past her majority who had no marriage prospects? “What about male relatives? I ken you have no brothers, but do you have any cousins, or an uncle, perchance?”
This time her shoulders drooped with the shake of her head. She sniffed, looking like she was about to burst into tears. If there was one thing Reid could not endure, it was sitting idle while a female cried. He’d already felt helpless enough.
“Not to worry,” he said in his most soothing voice, resisting the urge to hop to his feet and do something daft like draw her into an embrace. “’Tis why I’m here. We’ll set everything to rights in no time.” God willing.
“I beg your pardon, but everything will not be set to rights.” Though soft-spoken, the lass appeared to have a stubborn streak. She even stiffened her spine. “I’ve just lost my father. Not only that, there are a host of miners who will be looking to you for direction. Are you familiar with mining, my lord?” As soon as the words left her lips, she drew the kerchief to her mouth and demurely glanced aside.
A tic twitched in his jaw. Was she toying with him? Was she shy or was the kerchief-twisting a ploy to solicit his sympathy? That she had cunning was for certain. Mining? Reid was a land baron, a cattleman, but this was no time to appear inept. “I assure you, I ken a great deal about anything concerning trade in Great Britain. I am an earl in control of vast estates in Scotland.”
“Forgive my impertinence. I am distraught.” She let out a long sigh and rested her forehead in her palm. “I want to attend my father’s grave.”
“I shall accompany you there myself when ’tis safe.”
“A mere carriage ride to Hartlepool is not safe?”
“My men are scouting the byways to ensure there’s no retaliation planned by the government troops.”
“Government troops?” Her eyes grew wide. “Was Papa involved in something illegal?”
“Of course not.” Reid pursed his lips and glanced away. He’d been in this lassie’s presence for all of ten minutes and he was about to strangle her. It was not her place to question him about his business prowess, nor was it her place to imply that Reid had acted outside the law.
He took a deep breath. “Your father and I were but working to see to Britain’s future.”
He stood and addressed her with a stiff bow. “I shall endeavor to put things in order and protect your interests as heiress. Presently, however, I am in sore need of a bath.”
“Very well,” she whispered, practically twisting her kerchief in two.
“Until the evening meal, miss.” He turned and paraded out of the parlor in search of the butler. Perhaps Reid would be able to face this whole mess with more vigor once he’d washed away the salt and sand chafing his skin.
* * *
After Reid MacKenzie marched out of the parlor, Audrey wanted to collapse into a heap. Instead, she sighed and covered her face with her soggy kerchief. Not only was her entire life in complete upheaval, Papa had appointed the Earl of Seaforth to see to her maintenance? The overbearing Scotsman hardly appeared a day older than she.
I do not need a benefactor. I need my father.
And Seaforth was unbelievably uncouth. He’d arrived at Coxhoe House in such a disheveled state that, if he hadn’t been announced, Audrey would have thought him a beggar. Scraggly hair, unshaven, and filthy. Worse, he had the most disconcerting glint to his intense green eyes. The entire time she’d been in his presence, she was worried he’d draw that mammoth sword from his hip and cut her to the quick.
When seated, it bothered him not at all to have his knees bare, popping from beneath that immodest kilt. Must he wear a kilt? True, he was Scottish. No doubt from the Highlands, reputed for producing dangerous and barbaric savages.
How could she trust this man? Though an earl, what on earth had he been doing with her father in France of all places? Papa hadn’t told her he was going to France. Such a voyage was perilous. Britain was at war with France. Papa hadn’t lied, but he’d skirted the truth by telling her he had business dealings on the Continent. Naturally, she’d assumed it had something to do with coal. Her father’s mines produced more coal than any other operation in Britain, and she was well aware of the Kennets’ substantial fortune.
She dropped her hands to her lap and stared straight into the fire. Something was amiss. Her father had been killed by his own countrymen? The earl had his men scouring the land to ensure it was safe to travel to Saint Hilda’s Church, only ten miles away?
What on earth is going on? And why had Papa not entrusted me with his plans?
Never in her life had Audrey been off the Kennet estate without an escort, but presently she needed answers. Whom could she trust? Certainly not the behemoth who just went above stairs to bathe.
No, she could trust no one.
She must take matters into her own hands swiftly or else the mine and her very life could be ruined. And that meant bucking up her courage and going to Hartlepool alone. Two hours ago such a thought would have mortified her down to her toes. But now she had no choice but to dare to be bold. Resolutely clenching her fists, Audrey headed for her chamber to don a riding habit.
Chapter Three
Jeffrey, the stable hand, led Audrey’s trotter down the aisle, saddled and ready to ride. “I don’t blame you for wanting to take a turn around the grounds, miss. The news was a shock to us all.”
She took charge of the bridle and ran her fingers through Allegro’s mane. “I still cannot believe it.” Her stomach roiled with the tempest inside her. She couldn’t speak her mind to Jeffrey, but riding to Hartlepool would help her think. Cantering Allegro with the wind at her face always helped Audrey gather her thoughts. Presently her mind was in such a muddle, she didn’t know what was right and what was wrong, what was true or false. All she knew was she must make haste away from Coxhoe House with all its memories of her father. She couldn’t think there.
Audrey led the horse to the mounting block.
“When do you reckon you’ll return, miss?” Jeffrey held the bridle while Audrey looped her knee over the upper pommel and slid into her sidesaddle.
“Not certain.” She pursed her lips. She wasn’t about to tell anyone where she planned to go, lest they try to stop her.
The stable hand patted Allegro’s shoulder. “All right then. I’ll keep an eye out for you.”
“Thank you.” Taking up the reins, Audrey cued her gelding for a trot, steering him straight to the drive. She had no time to waste. As often as she’d made the journey to the shore with her father, she could travel to Hartlepool blindfolded if need be, especially when riding her faithful Allegro.
The Earl of Seaforth thought Coxhoe unsafe because of government troops? How ludicrous. The dragoons who patrolled County Durham were there to enforce law and order, not circumvent it.
Invigorated by the crisp wind at her face, she urged the gelding into a gallop. Something thundered in from her left. Her heart flew to her throat. Had the earl been right? Outlaws lurked not but a mile from her home? Without looking back, she slapped her crop on Allegro’s rump. “Faster!”
Out of the corner of her eye, riders moved in on her flank. A dark-haired man wearing a kilt bore down on her. A grimace contorted his rugged features while he reached for her reins.
Allegro whinnied and reared. Leaning forward, Audrey grappled for his mane, for anything to steady her seat. Upward, the horse rose, making an ungodly noise as the barbaric Scots surrounded her.
Crying out, Audrey sailed through the air. She threw back her hand to break her fall. H
ot pain shot up through her elbow and clear up to her shoulder as she landed with a jarring thud.
The Highlander who’d reached for her reins hopped down from his mount and sauntered toward her, his hairy, bare knees flexing from beneath his kilt. “Are you hurt, lassie?” This man’s brogue was even more pronounced than the earl’s.
Audrey clutched her fists beneath her chin. “Stay back, or I-I’ll scream.” Truly, there wasn’t a bone in her body that didn’t hurt, but she couldn’t afford to show fear to these savages.
The man stopped and thrust his fists into his hips. “Then what are you doing trespassing on Kennet lands?”
“I am Miss Kennet, you scoundrel.” Regardless of her aching backside, she stood without the barbarian’s assistance and shuffled away. Obviously this man was too thickheaded to offer a hand.
“Och.” The man dropped his hands to his sides. “You are the heiress?”
“Who else would be riding like the devil to visit her father’s grave?”
The man scratched his head. “I thought Nicholas Kennet’s daughter was a wee bairn.”
“Evidently so did the Earl of Seaforth.” Gracious, her hands were shaking like saplings in the wind. Could these men not carry on with their business and leave her be? And what was it about these Scots? They brought out the absolute worst in her. She’d never been so outspoken in her life.
Flicking his wrist, the Highlander gestured to the others. “Forgive us for frightening you, miss, but ’tis not safe to be out riding alone, not when there are redcoats combing the countryside.”
“And why would government dragoons pose a threat? They’re here to protect law-abiding citizens.”
“In the perfect world, aye. But your father was just murdered by a cannonball blasted from Her Majesty’s Royal Navy—friends of those dragoons you think so highly of.” The man dragged his fingers through his thick brown hair. “The name’s Dunn MacRae, and I’m proud to call the Earl of Seaforth my friend. Come along now and we’ll take you back to the manse afore you’re set upon by a mob of real outlaws.”
