The Blue Drawing Room (Regency Rendezvous Book 2)

by Carmen Caine

  “Aye, love. Can you squeeze through the opening?”

  She nodded and began to crawl through the hole. When she’d lifted herself out halfway, Alistair grasped her by the waist and pulled her up and into his arms.

  “Captain Edwards—” she choked.

  “Hush.” Alistair stayed her with a soft kiss. “You’ll never have to see him again. He’s been caught and I’ll see him turned over to the authorities.”

  She sagged in relief.

  “What’s this?” Nicholas asked.

  Alistair glanced at Nicholas, who stood near the opposite side of the cavern, his torch illuminating a small, iron-banded chest with rusted hinges.

  Oliver launched himself against Eliza. “I was so worried about you, Miss.”

  She gave a half sob. “You’re such a brave boy. What are you doing here?”

  Alistair didn’t miss the tremble in her voice.

  Oliver drew back and stood straight. “I’m a Kennedy. I had to help with the search.”

  “You need to look at this, Alistair,” Nicholas said with a long, low whistle.

  He glanced at Nicholas. The baronet held an aged, oilskin package in his hands, his blue eyes wide with astonishment.

  “Bring it,” Alistair replied, then swung Eliza up into his arms.

  She was light as he carried her out of the caves with Oliver by his side. He hugged her close through the sheeting rain. She clung to him until they reached the warmth of the castle. After settling her into a wingback chair in his library, he ordered the doctor summoned and stayed by her side as she looked up at him, her pupils large and dark in the library’s dim light.

  “The doctor will be here soon,” he promised.

  “There’s little need for a doctor,” she said, looking more like her old self. “I’m fine.”

  He brought her fingers to his lips and smiled. “You have a fine black eye to prove it.” He turned to Oliver and pointed to a plump footstool next to the opposite chair. “Bring me that stool, lad.”

  As the boy jumped to do his bidding, Alistair knelt and gently removed the slipper from her injured foot. He paused to kiss the inside of her ankle before carefully sliding the stool in place.

  She smiled, and the look in her eyes made his blood burn.

  The doctor arrived, and leaving the man to tend to her injuries and with Oliver by her side, Alistair joined Nicholas at the desk. Nicholas didn’t look up from the papers spread out before him.

  “What is this?” Alistair asked as he halted beside the man’s chair.

  The baronet glanced at him. “I…don’t know how to tell you,” he replied in a solemn voice. “Other than to say…” His voice trailed away.

  “Say what?” Alistair squinted over his shoulder at the papers on the desk.

  Nicholas selected two aged sheets of parchment and held them out. “The piper’s irrefutable proof,” he said. “These are the papers that Lady Kennedy has been so desperately seeking.”

  Alistair froze.

  “No, they’re not,” Oliver piped up from the chair near the fire. “She got her papers in the icehouse, Uncle.”

  Taking the papers from Nicholas, Alistair turned to his nephew. “The icehouse?” he asked. “What do you mean?”

  The boy left Eliza’s side to join them at the desk, his eyes darting nervously from man to man.

  “I’ll not thrash you, lad,” Alistair promised, feeling drained. “The truth. I simply need the truth.”

  Oliver hesitated, then answered with a rush, “I followed her, Lady Kennedy, you know. You said to watch out for the man with the green hat. I saw him the first day when I went to the stables, speaking with Lady Kennedy. He dropped his hat near the kitchens. He’s been here every day, wanting money and liquor. She called him Thomas.” The boy looked up at him, his expression earnest.

  It all began to make sense. Alistair exchanged a long look with Nicholas. They hadn’t been asking the right person.

  “What did they speak of at the icehouse that day? Thomas was there, was he not?”

  “Yes.” Oliver nodded. “I followed him from the kitchens. She came later. She wanted her papers. She’s always been talking about papers. She was angry he kept taking so long to fetch them and kept asking for more money. He gave them to her at the icehouse and she left.”

  “What of the fire?” Alistair asked.

  Oliver fidgeted a little before admitting, “After Lady Kennedy left, Thomas started drinking. I waited until he fell asleep and took his hat to show you, but he woke up, so I hid in the back. I waited and waited, but he kept drinking. I don’t know how the fire started, but he had a lantern with him. I fell asleep, and when I woke up, the fire had started. I ran out as fast as I could.”

  “So, the drunken sot started the fire.” Nicholas snorted.

  “It would seem so.” Alistair nodded, then addressed Oliver. “These papers he gave Lady Kennedy, what did they look like?”

  “He gave her a leather package tied with red string. Said it came from the best scribes in Scotland.”

  Alistair looked at Nicholas. “No doubt, they are papers proving my birth as illegitimate, though coming from scribes, I’d wager they are forgeries.”

  To his surprise, Nicholas laughed. “I’d wager you were right, but there’s no need when you hold the answer to this riddle in your hand.”

  Frowning, Alistair glanced down at the parchment. The first sheet bore the Kennedy family crest emblazoned in the wax seal at the bottom of the page. He scanned the contents, surprised to discover it a certificate of his birth.

  “The next paper,” Nicholas said, “is a wee bit more interesting. Lady Kennedy won’t like the tale those dates tell.”

  Alistair shuffled the papers and peered at the next sheet. A special license of marriage issued to his parents with a date a good year before his birth.

  “You never were illegitimate,” Nicholas murmured. “The piper’s had this proof the entire time, hidden in the caves.”

  Alistair stared at the document in stunned disbelief. “So, the old earl wasn’t referring to Foster,” he whispered. “He spoke of the ghostly piper this entire time.”

  “Aye.” Nicholas nodded at the remaining papers scattered on the desk. “You’ve always been the rightful heir to the title and the estates, and you were a good seven years of age when your mother died. The old earl’s marriage to Lady Kennedy was never legal, lad. He needed her money, so he hid your existence with the ghostly piper and swept you away, as if you’d never existed.”

  Alistair swallowed. “This castle consumed him.” He glanced at the finery surrounding him. “There wasn’t a thing he wouldn’t have done to save his castle.”

  “Aye. Even sacrifice his firstborn as they do in the tales,” the baronet commented with a shake of his dark head.

  Alistair snorted and dropped the papers on the desk. “Then, we’ll see this matter of Lady Kennedy settled once and for all.”

  A gleam of interest sparked Nicholas’ eyes. “Shall I demand she turn the forged papers over at once?”

  “No, do no’ give her the chance to destroy them,” Alistair replied. “Go to her rooms and find them yourself and take Foster with you.”

  “Even better.” Nicholas grinned.

  As he vanished through the door, Alistair turned to his young nephew still standing before him. Alistair ruffled the lad’s hair. “You saved the day, lad, in more ways than one.” He dropped his voice to a stern tone, “But enough wandering about the estate. I’ll see you keeping out of mischief and learning your lessons like a proper gentleman, aye?”

  “Aye, Uncle.” The boy nodded, seriously.

  They stared at each other, then Alistair’s lip twitched into a proud smile and the boy suddenly turned away, but not before Alistair caught a glimpse of his mouth curving up in response. Alistair followed him back to Eliza’s side as the doctor stood to take his leave.

  “Her injuries are minor, my lord.” The doctor snapped his black case closed. “A few days�
� rest and she’ll be back on her feet. I suggest she go straight to bed—now.”

  “I’ll see to it.” Alistair smiled and squeezed Eliza’s shoulder. A rosy glow had returned to her cheeks.

  He walked with the doctor to the door and assigned a footman to settle the bill. He’d just stepped back into the library when a screech shattered the air. He looked up. Lady Kennedy sailed down the corridor toward him, her thin jowls jiggling in rage. Nicholas followed sedately behind her. Alistair glanced at Eliza and Oliver. The last thing he wanted was to subject them to another of Lady Kennedy’s tantrums.

  “I’m owed an explanation on this matter. At once!” she shrilled. “My privacy has been violated by this ruffian.” She swept into the library with Nicholas on her heels, carrying a leather package tied with red string. “That’s mine,” Lady Kennedy hissed. “I demand you return it. At once.”

  Alistair closed the door. “Is it yours? Be careful what you say, Lady Kennedy.”

  She whirled, eyes flashing. “Yes, it is mine.” Her voice gained strength as her thin nostrils flared. “It is your undoing, Alistair. It is the irrefutable proof.”

  Nicholas crossed to the desk, and dropped his package next to the piper’s papers.

  “This estate was never yours, Alistair,” she snapped. “In fact, according to what I’ve found, you might very well not even be the earl’s son.”

  Alistair raked his fingers tiredly through his hair and hazarded a look at Eliza and Oliver. Eliza faced the fire, Oliver in her lap. Appreciation flooded him. She was staying out of sight. He couldn’t blame her. She had no wish to face Lady Kennedy.

  He returned his attention to the older woman. He wanted this matter finished. “Irrefutable proof? I shall be delighted to offer your papers, along with mine, to the full scrutiny of the court. I ride for Glasgow tomorrow to present them both.”

  She blinked. “Both? Of what do you speak?”

  He nodded at the desk. “This night’s unfortunate events uncovered proof of a different kind, Lady Kennedy, one buried deep in the piper’s sea caves.”

  She went rigid.

  “Shall I show her?” Nicholas queried softly.

  Alistair nodded, once.

  The baronet picked up the marriage license and extended it toward her.

  Her gaze locked on the paper. Her expression shifted from a blank expression to one of deep, dark rage.

  Her hands began to shake. “How could he?”

  So, she’d noticed the dates. Alistair eyed her grimly. “I quite agree with your sentiments. How could my own father deny me and my mother? How could he allow you to treat me in such an ignoble, base manner, a wee, frightened child of no more than seven years?”

  She jerked and fell back a step.

  “It’s over, Lady Kenn…” he paused. “Perhaps, I should no longer call you that, for you were never a Kennedy.”

  Her chin began to tremble. “You wrong me cruelly. Just like your father before you. What will you do now? He ripped away every penny I had. I have nothing. Nothing. Not even the monies that were to be set aside for my safety, for my old age. Do you wish to see me penniless? Do you wish me to beg bread by the roadside?”

  A nerve twitched in Alistair’s cheek. The woman had caused so much pain, and she’d clearly bought forged documents to steal his estate—and now she expected mercy? He was too tired to care. He strode to the desk. Nicholas handed him the marriage license and he gathered the piper’s papers along with the forged ones and dumped them back into the chest.

  “Retire to your rooms and stay there until I call for you.”

  “I didn’t turn the papers in, Alistair,” she wailed, then collapsed to the floor, weeping hysterically. “You can’t ruin me, not over that. I kept the papers in my desk. I didn’t turn them in.” She kept weeping, insisting she’d done nothing wrong as he ordered several footmen to carry her away.

  “Poor sod, your father, to voluntarily wed that,” Nicholas said with a low whistle when the door finally closed behind them.

  Alistair snorted. “Never did a man deserve it more. He ruined us both through his greed.”

  His friend cocked a brow. “Will you show mercy?”

  What would he do? He rubbed his eyes. The thought of dragging Lady Kennedy to court was unbearable. “I’ve nothing to fear from her now. She has no choice but to behave, now that I have proof she’ll never want exposed to the light of day.”

  Nicholas let out a long sigh. “Then send her far away. Far, far away, or we’ll never have a moment’s peace.”

  “Aye.” An idea caught his fancy. “Methinks Lady Prescott would enjoy her company. She wouldn’t dare refuse, not when she’s been living in my London townhouse rent free.”

  His friend belted a hearty laugh. “Never did two women deserve each other more.”

  Alistair smiled and faced Eliza. She peered around the chair at him. The admiration in her eyes made his blood sing.

  “Aye,” he said softly, speaking to her with his eyes. “I’m done with Lady Kennedy and all the rest. I have other things to think of now.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Blue Drawing Room

  After seeing his stepmother on her way to London and Captain Edwards bundled off to the authorities, Alistair left for Glasgow to submit the Piper’s proof to the courts and settle the matter of his inheritance once and for all. It took longer than he liked. The wheels of the law turned slowly but, at last, he saw the matter done, and he left Glasgow, eager to return to Castle Culzean and the hazel-eyed lass who awaited him.

  When, at last, he drove down the tree-lined carriage drive and under Culzean’s arched entrance, he discovered his barouche was only one of many gathered there.

  “The spring ball is tomorrow,” Nicholas greeted him with a grin as he stepped out of his carriage. “I feared you, the guest of honor, had forgotten.”

  “If I’d organized it myself, I would have remembered,” Alistair said as he and Nichols entered the rear gardens. The castle glittered with lights and guests milled about the lawn to the accompaniment of a small orchestra.

  “Did you not say the party was tomorrow?” Alistair asked.

  “Many of the guests arrived early, my dear fellow.”

  “Will they be leaving soon?” Alistair half growled as he took a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter. He emptied the glass then handed it to another waiter and navigated past a group of ladies in a rainbow array of elegant evening gowns with Nicholas close behind. He sidestepped a group of men, then entered the castle through the open balcony doors and strode across the ballroom.

  Alistair glanced at Nicholas. “Hadn’t you better see to your guests?”

  “Later.”

  They reached a side staircase and sprinted up the stairs. At last, they reached the study.

  A maid poked the fire in the hearth. “It’s good to have you back, my lord.” She leaned the poker against the hearth, then bobbed a curtsey and hurried out the door.

  With a sigh, Alastair rubbed his shoulder, then noticed a parcel sitting on the table.

  “That came with the post a few days ago.” Nicholas plopped down in a chair and stretched out his long legs.

  Alistair pulled back the wrapper to reveal a worn, leather-bound book. As he lifted it up, a sheet of paper fell out, fluttering to the floor. He picked it up, then scanned the bold script that stated the book was the authentic possession of one Anna Plowman, Eliza’s mother.

  “What book is this?” Nicholas asked curiously from his seat before the fire.

  Alistair shook his head. “It’s not a book, lad, it’s a treasure of the heart.” He slipped the book back into the wrapping and tied the string as Nicholas averted his gaze to the kindling fire. Something about the man’s manner caught his attention.

  Alistair set the package back on the desk. “What ill has befallen you? You do not seem like yourself.”

  “I’m well enough,” he replied with a pained look.

  Alistair grimaced. �
�Please assure me you haven’t invited new house guests I must attend to?”

  Nicholas humphed. “I may have landed myself in a wee bit of trouble.”

  “How is this new?” Alistair couldn’t resist a bit of a mocking laugh.

  Nicholas made a half-hearted attempt to smile before saying, “It’s blackmail.”

  “Blackmail?” Alistair’s amusement faded. “That sounds serious. Who?”

  “A woman.” The baronet scowled.

  So soon? But then, Nicholas had lost interest in Lady Catherine Brexley from the moment of her arrival. He’d been outright relieved when she’d gone. After the scandal of her chaperone, Captain Edwards, had come to light, she’d fled Culzean as if from the bubonic plague.

  Alistair regarded him. “A woman? Then I daresay it’s well deserved.”

  Nicholas shot him a scathing look, then hefted himself to his feet and stalked from the room. Alistair watched him go, shrugging the matter away. Nicholas and scandals went hand-in-hand. Picking up the wrapped book, he smiled. Since he’d left, he’d thought of little else other than holding Eliza in his arms once again. Now, there was nothing to stop him.

  The setting sun cast long shadows over the castle as he took the rear stairs up to the nursery. In the distance, he heard the gong of the dinner bell mingling with the strains of a waltz played by the musicians out on the lawn. He strode down the hall, past the maids lighting the candles and lamps, and reached the nursery door.

  Slowly, he twisted the knob and opened the door. Eliza stood at the window, watching the setting sun. Music drifted through the open window. He paused, letting his gaze slide down her slender body. The ever-defiant curls escaped the pins above the curve of her neck. He’d missed her.

  He crept into the room and carefully set the package on the table before tiptoeing to stand behind her and slide his hands around her waist. She started, but he quickly pulled her against his chest, then dropped light kisses on the curve of her neck. Her pulse quickened beneath his lips.

  He inhaled the perfume of her hair, whispered, “I’ve missed you.”

  She tensed. “My—”