The gypsy flashed his quick dark smile. ‘Perhaps I dreamed it.’
‘More like you overheard the visit being arranged. That seems more your style.’
Sean’s grin widened. ‘Want to know what else I heard? It will only cost you a wee bitty silver.’
Niall shook his head. ‘No thanks.’
‘Then I will tell you for free. This gadjo intends to wed the Lady Jenna.’
‘Don’t be daft. The man is her tenant. She’s here to take tea.’
‘But this man can offer her so much more,’ Sean said softly.
Niall stiffened, his heart sinking at the sound of the truth. ‘I suppose you have dreamed of the wedding.’
‘It is a choice. There are many choices, gadjo.’
The hairs on the back of Niall’s neck prickled a warning. Ah hell, what did it matter if the man spoke the truth? Jenna needed a wealthy man if she was ever to set her home to rights. He didn’t give a damn whom she chose.
Furious with the stupid ache in his chest, he glared at Sean. ‘Why don’t you choose to take yourself off?’ He gave the cob a final pat.
The gypsy’s teeth flashed white again, but this time his smile gave his face a predatory look. ‘You chose to eat bread and salt. You and Lady Jenna. At my table.’
Now he was talking in riddles. Or... ‘Are you hungry? Are you here for food?’
Sean’s expression hardened. ‘There will be no food for me at Drummond’s door. He threw my people off land where we had camped each summer for years.’
Drummond? He frowned. Again the name struck the same chord as it had when Lady Jenna had said the name yesterday. He was sure he had heard that name somewhere recently. Or had he heard it mentioned at the inn? Likely that was it.
‘Mrs Hughes’s cook put up a basket to keep starvation at bay. You are welcome to share with me,’ he said, climbing into the back of the gig. He retrieved the basket and gestured for Sean to join him.
Sean hesitated, glancing around as if checking for lurking danger. Finally he climbed up and bit into the chicken leg Niall handed him. ‘There is an important thing I will tell you,’ the gypsy said quietly. ‘You will use it as you please.’
More riddles, when what he needed was food.
* * *
‘And this is the portrait gallery.’ Mr Drummond proudly gestured at the array of gilt-framed pictures.
Jenna had never seen so many things as there were in this house. The man was clearly a collector. Of everything. Even here, where pictures lined the walls, there were statues in every corner and niche, tables cluttered with bric-a-brac and curio cabinets stuffed with china. She stopped at a picture of a fierce-looking woman in an Elizabethan ruff. ‘One of your ancestors?’
He frowned at it. ‘Not mine. I bought it at an auction. Quite terrifying, isn’t she? The gilt frame is worth a king’s ransom.’
How odd that he would have pictures of other people’s family and only care about the value of the frame. ‘The artist must be well known,’ she hazarded.
‘Quite possibly,’ he said. ‘Shall we go to the drawing room now?’
He chivvied them onwards. Another wide corridor, a winding staircase, then a footman opened one of a set of double doors. The room was huge and stunningly beautiful, and stuffed with objets d’art. The windows overlooked the loch.
‘What a beautiful view,’ Jenna said, glad to relieve her eyes of the clutter inside the room.
He stood beside her. ‘The second-best view from any house in all of Scotland, I am assured.’
She blinked, looking at him in question. ‘The second-best?’
He bridled as if he thought she did not believe him. ‘The architect who designed the house in the style of Horatio Walpole’s Strawberry Hill said so.’
‘What did he consider the very best?’
His face tightened a fraction. ‘The view from Braemuir.’
Her jaw dropped in surprise, but he didn’t notice, for he turned and nodded to Mrs Hughes. ‘My dear lady, would you be so good as to pour the tea while I have a private word with Lady Jenna?’
‘Oh, Mr Drummond, I really cannot...’
He threw his hands up. ‘You mistake me, my dear Mrs Hughes. I do not mean we should go away in private, but merely that we should speak quietly together.’ He held out his hand. ‘Dear Lady Jenna, stroll with me about the room.’
It was a very long room and the windows at the far end provided yet another breathtaking view, this time down the length of the glen. ‘I had the river dammed so it would fill,’ he said with satisfaction as they paused and looked out.
No wonder she had not remembered this stretch of water. ‘Mr Drummond, there is a matter of business I wished to discuss with you.’
His dark brows lifted, crinkling his high forehead. ‘And what would that be, Lady Jenna?’
‘You sub-lease Braemuir’s pasture. I wonder if you would consider leasing it directly from me when that lease comes to an end.’
He frowned. ‘My contract is with the man who leases your land from Lord Carrick and does not expire for another two years.’
‘Oh, but I thought...’
It was as Niall had said. The payments from the land were going directly to Carrick, her trustee. But if that was the case, Carrick must be paying the money to her account somewhere? It was he she would have to approach about giving her the income.
She forced a smile. ‘Then I will take the matter up with my cousin,’ she managed to say with what she hoped was cheerful calm.
Mr Drummond coughed into his hand as if distressed by the topic. ‘I am sure you know, Lady Jenna, that the small parcel of land on which this house stands will revert to Braemuir in a generation or two. In my opinion, the estate should never have been carved up in the first place.’
Her thoughts exactly. But there had been debts to pay on her father’s death. She could not help but wonder what else Carrick had been keeping from her all this while.
‘What is done is done,’ she said heavily.
‘And cannot be undone,’ Mr Drummond agreed. ‘Although perhaps that is not always the case.’
‘I cannot afford to buy back your lease. And nor do I need such a grand house when I already have Braemuir.’
‘Ah. Braemuir.’ He smiled sorrowfully and shook his head. ‘A tragedy for such a beautiful old house to be so neglected.’
‘Yes. But I will put it to rights. In time.’
‘Really.’ His eyes sharpened. ‘I doubt Murray would take it on.’
Startled, she stared at him. ‘How can you know about Mr Murray? Or what is in his mind for that matter?’
‘I am a businessman, Lady Jenna. It behooves me to know what is happening in the world. I have my methods.’
It sounded rather sordid. And unnecessary. ‘Why would you take an interest in my affairs?’
‘I lease your land. A marriage might mean it may soon be unavailable to me.’
True. ‘Well, I have not heard from Mr Murray as yet.’
‘But you will. The world has heard of your trek across the country in a gypsy cart.’
Her stomach lurched. ‘How is that possible?’ She felt heat to the roots of her hair as he gave her a sorrowful look.
‘My dear young lady, you cannot keep such things a secret.’
Sean must have betrayed them. ‘There are reasons—’
He stopped her with a look. ‘I am sure there are. And I am not so nice as to let such a small thing trouble me as others might.’
Murray would.
‘It broke your father’s heart to let part of his beloved Braemuir go. We hold the key to putting it back together.’ He put a hand to his chest. ‘Lady Jenna, I am offering marriage.’
Stunned, she stared at him, her jaw dropping, her mind scrambling to catch up.
‘It is not the first time I have made this offer,’ he continued. ‘I approached your cousin some years ago and was rejected out of hand.’
‘I’m sorry. I did not know, until very recent
ly, that there had been any other offers.’
He bowed slightly. ‘As I suspected. Your cousin plays a deep hand. And so I watched his machinations from afar. Your arrival here is more fortuitous than you could possibly imagine. The second chance I had hoped for.’
There was an odd note in his voice. It almost sounded as if he was gloating. ‘Why did my cousin object to your suit?’
His eyes hardened. His jaw flickered with tension. ‘My family are merchants, Lady Jenna. They gained great wealth through trade. Your cousin finds the idea distasteful.’
‘Are you engaged in criminal activity?’
‘You are suspicious, too, I see?’
‘No. No, of course not. I am trying to understand.’
‘I beg your pardon. It is foolish of me to be so sensitive when at long last I have the chance to plead my case with you. Your cousin was insulting to say the least.’ His eyes narrowed a fraction. ‘I must say I was shocked when I heard the gossip about his scheme to send eligible bachelors to your door.’
‘You heard about that, too?’
He bowed. ‘It is common knowledge in Edinburgh that you seek a wealthy man in exchange for a title.’
It sounded dreadful coming from his lips. ‘Braemuir needs a great deal of work if it is to be saved. Expensive renovations.’
‘And I am one of the few men who could afford such a restoration.’
‘But would you?’ She could not help feeling this was all too good to be true.
‘I would. The finest view in all of Scotland, Lady Jenna, and a woman equally as beautiful. What man could resist?’
‘That is your only reason?’
A small smile curved his lips. ‘The title, too. I have a hankering to sit in the House of Lords.’
A guilty conscience made her face heat. ‘I am not perhaps the unspoiled bargain you would think me.’
He flicked his fingers in dismissal. ‘The past does not interest me. Only the future. I am a very wealthy man, Lady Jenna. Honour me with your hand and your title, and I will give you Braemuir. And the children to carry on the Aleyne traditions.’
Braemuir on a golden platter. Promises fulfilled. Responsibilities met. It was all she had ever wanted. What her father had requested with his dying breath.
And the man himself? He was reasonably handsome and his manners were impeccable. Indeed, gentlemanly, by anyone’s standards, even if his surroundings declared him a little more acquisitive than was normal. Many men had interests in collecting things.
Then why was she hesitating? Why wasn’t she jumping for joy, the way she had when Carrick announced she would have three suitors to choose from? Not one of them cared about Braemuir with this man’s apparent passion. Not even Niall. No, especially not Niall. To him, the house, her beloved home, was no more than bricks and mortar and stone.
Yet Drummond’s enthusiasm seemed almost too much. A little too smug.
Her heart seemed suddenly too weighty for her chest. Her breath did not come easily and she could not force the acceptance past her lips, because the image before her gaze was of Niall, of how he would react when she gave him this news.
She cared about Niall’s good opinion. Admired his loyalty and steadfastness, and his courage in keeping her safe. But he did not love Braemuir. If she gave in to her feelings for him, she would fail her father’s trust. Fail generations of Aleynes for her own shallow needs.
She squeezed her eyes shut to force the thoughts into some logical order, but when she opened them again to Mr Drummond’s curious gaze, she still could not answer. A strange pressure on her heart held her back, kept the words from her tongue.
‘This is so sudden, Mr Drummond. May I have some time to consider? I assure you I will not keep you waiting long.’
‘There is someone else making as good an offer?’ His voice had chilled.
‘I... No. But I must break off my current engagement before entering into another.’
‘Ah, yes, Murray. A bit of a nincompoop in my opinion. And his finances remain under his parents’ thumb, you know. I am well aware of his family.’
A threat lay beneath his words. Murray did not have control of his fortune. He might not have the authority to spend any of it on Braemuir. ‘Will you grant me two days?’
‘I have waited many years, Lady Jenna. From the first time I saw Braemuir when undertaking some business with your father, I have waited. What will two more days matter? But let me assure you, I am prepared to do all that is right. The proud name of Aleyne will not be ground into the dust, if you entrust me with its care.’
A prickle of alarm ran across her back. Did he mean it would be, if she did not? How could it? He had no power over her property. ‘You are most forbearing.’
He took her hand and raised it to his lips. ‘I believe a woman of your intellect cannot help but see the worth of my offer.’
‘Your tea is getting cold,’ Mrs Hughes called out.
‘Allow me to return you to your companion,’ Mr Drummond said once more, holding out his arm. ‘I will look forward to you making the right decision.’
Right for whom?
Oh, why did she have such doubts?
* * *
When Niall finished putting away the gig and stabling the horse, he was delighted to discover Lady Jenna pacing back and forth outside the stables. Waiting for him. Delighted was too weak a word. His pleasure was on a much deeper level. It felt like joy.
He smiled at her, then realised she was frowning, her expression clouded with worry. Had she also heard of her attackers’ presence in the area? The odd part was that Sean seemed to think they were now in the pay of the man they had visited today. Could it really be a coincidence that they had found work here after failing in their kidnapping attempt? Sean had seemed to suggest it was not, in that mysterious way he had of speaking. Niall wasn’t certain what to think. But he did not want Lady Jenna running scared.
‘What is it?’ he asked as she strode to meet him in the middle of the courtyard.
She pressed her hands together at her breasts. ‘Mr Drummond is offering marriage.’
His stomach fell away so fast he felt as if he was falling off a cliff. No, it felt worse than falling, because his chest radiated pain. ‘That old man?’ The words left his lips before he could stop them. ‘Why would you even consider it?’
She stiffened. ‘He is the same age as my father when he married my mother.’
So that made it all right? Her father had died when she was little more than a child. He bit back his retort, keeping his voice calm, his expression neutral. ‘You plan to accept him, then?’
She rolled her lips inwards, as if she was unsure, and that made him feel a little better. Not by much. ‘He is willing to sink a fortune into Braemuir.’
‘A generous offer, then.’ He sounded as bitter as he felt. And she had caught it because hurt filled her eyes.
‘He offered once before. Carrick refused him on my behalf.’
Drummond. Now he remembered exactly where he’d heard the name before. In Carrick’s study. ‘Your cousin didn’t approve of him.’
‘Because his family aren’t landed gentry. They earned their wealth.’
‘You deem him worthy, then?’
‘As worthy as Murray, if not more. The man has a fortune to spend and is keen to spend it on Braemuir.’ Her eyes met his and they were full of worry. ‘I can’t see getting a better offer. The strangest part is that he does not lease the land directly from Carrick, but has it by way of a sub-lease from an intermediary. Not only did Carrick refuse his offer of marriage, he also refused to lease him pasturage. So Drummond found another way to get what he wanted.’
‘Did he now?’ The man sounded ruthless. A strange prickling stirred the hairs at the back of his neck. A warning. ‘Jenna I think you should be careful of this man.’ Did he tell her about what Sean had said, or should he try to discover the truth first? If Sean was wrong, he might ruin Jenna’s only chance to save her house.
She sa
t down on the small bench outside the stable door. ‘He is prepared to pay for everything the house needs. I am no fool, Niall. I will make sure it is written into the marriage settlement.’
Numb, dead inside, and not fully understanding why, except the knowledge he would lose her, which was nothing new, Niall sat down beside her. ‘Why does he want Braemuir when he already has such a fine house of his own?’ Fine in some people’s eyes, anyway.
She rested her elbows on her knees and her chin in her cupped hands. ‘He desires to be part of its heritage through its future generations.’
Niall felt ill at the thought of future generations. He stood up. ‘I see you have decided.’
She rose slowly. ‘Niall, does it really matter if it is Drummond or Murray?’
Not one jot. He’d feel the same whichever man she chose, but somehow he’d begun to think, to hope, there might be a chance for him. He couldn’t talk about this right now. If he stayed, he might do something they would both regret. He needed to think it through. Decide what he should say. He bowed. ‘If you will excuse me, I ordered my dinner at the tavern.’
His stomach revolted at the thought of food, but agreed that a drink wouldna come amiss.
She put out a hand to stay him, a kind of desperation in her eyes. ‘I thought we might meet later, at the house.’
Cuckold the new betrothed, did she mean? Surely not? His body hardened hopefully. His mind rebelled. The anger he’d been trying to suppress pushed its way to the surface. ‘Thank you, but no.’ He turned and stalked off.
Oh, he wouldn’t leave her here alone, not until she was duly married off and under the protection of her husband, but he certainly wasn’t going to have any more to do with her than necessary. He was too angry. Too shattered.
* * *
The pleasant chatter in the tavern had not suited his black mood. He’d been argumentative to the point of rude. Ready for a scrap, something most unlike him, but the innkeeper had kindly suggested he leave before he could entice anyone into fisticuffs. And the anger that had sustained him earlier had faded into melancholy. He had never been a mean drunk. He normally got mellow and affectionate.
Ann Lethbridge Page 22
