Pretender's Game

by Louise Clark

  With that, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room, leaving Colonel Harris sitting limply behind his desk.

  *

  “I lost my temper,” James said grimly to the group assembled in Grant MacLonan’s drawing room.

  At this statement, his father made a sound of disapproval in his throat, Staverton raised his brows and smiled faintly, and Thea gnawed her bottom lip.

  “Harris is sure to use that against you, MacLonan,” Brendon Ramsey said. A new addition to the small circle, Ramsey’s heavyset build and square, fleshy face gave mute evidence of his prosperity, while the excellent cut and expensive cloth of his dark suit made a quiet statement of his standing in Edinburgh.

  “I know that,” James said impatiently. He kicked at one of the logs in the big fireplace. Sparks flew upwards.

  Thea began to gnaw her lip in earnest. The nausea that had all but disappeared since the incident at Maggie’s had retuned full force the previous morning. Only this time it plagued her all day. As she thought about her husband’s meeting with Harris and the dangers it could bring down upon them, her stomach knotted. She swallowed and drew a deep breath. How she wished Morag had come to Edinburgh with them! She needed someone to confide in, and she could not burden James with her problems, for she had already given him far too many.

  Staverton, who was holding a stemmed glass of brandy in his hand, gazed thoughtfully into the dark depths of the liquid, then said almost idly, “Men like Harris respond well to orders, Ramsey. He’s used to doing what he is told.”

  “Colonel Harris can be a spiteful man,” Thea said, remembering the cruelty in his expression the day he had told her James MacLonan was a pardoned Jacobite. “It would not be wise to underestimate him.”

  “I agree with Theadora,” Grant MacLonan said. “Harris is in a difficult position. Almost certainly he’s had word that the Prince has disappeared. He does not want to ignite the Highlands with an incident like the one at Glenmuir, but he cannot allow any show of weakness. He may consider bringing Williams to justice to be just that.”

  “Damnation!” James muttered, slapping the mantel with the palm of his hand. “Of all the wretched tangles!”

  “Aye,” Brendon Ramsey said slowly, “that it is, but like all tangles, it can be unwound with a little patience and some thought.” He rubbed his prominent chin with his forefinger. “Let’s consider Colonel Harris. What do we know about him?”

  “He was posted here by London,” Thea offered. “My father didn’t ask for him as his second in command.”

  Brendon nodded, his gray eyes narrowed. “Anything else?”

  “He’s a man with an itch for money,” Grant said. He smiled faintly at the surprise on the faces of his audience. “When I was looking for a way to bring James home, I tried every avenue I could think of. Harris was only one of many who took my money and made me promises he could not keep.”

  “You bribed Harris?” James demanded, indignation warring with shock in his expression.

  Grant raised one brow. “Only reluctantly, when Sir Frederick Tilton proved to be unapproachable.”

  “So that’s how he knew!” Thea said softly, almost to herself.

  James heard, however. “Knew what? Was it Harris who told you I was a returned rebel?”

  Thea looked at her husband squarely. “Yes, it was. I wondered at the time if my father had told Colonel Harris in confidence, or if he had made it common knowledge amongst the officers. I am glad he did not.”

  “Gentlemen, Mrs. MacLonan.” Brendon nodded at each of them. “We digress. Shall we return to the issue at hand? Good,” he said when they had fallen silent. “Now then, I, too, have some knowledge of Colonel Harris that pertains to his background.”

  “Investigated him on a legal matter, did you, Ramsey?” Staverton remarked with lazy effrontery.

  Brendon Ramsey sat very still, his hands steepled before him, his broad features expressionless. Nonetheless, the atmosphere in the room was charged with tension until he said politely, “I find it useful to know all I can about the men who are assigned to the military government in this city. I know, for instance, that Colonel Harris did not buy his own commission. In fact, he barely scraped up enough funds to buy his captaincy. The rank he holds today was purchased for him by the grateful father of a young subaltern whom he saved from capture and possible death while on campaign in Europe. Harris is very much aware that he would not be a colonel had he been required to buy the rank himself. Perhaps that is why he is reluctant to press charges against Lieutenant Williams.”

  His words caught the attention of each and every one of them. “You’ve lost me, Ramsey,” James said curtly. “What has Williams to do with Harris’s rank?”

  “Williams is a member of a wealthy and powerful family. He has cousins and uncles throughout the military. He was posted here in August. Scotland is considered to be a relatively safe posting, because the Highlands have been stable for so many years, although there is that remote possibility of danger. Williams was clamoring to be sent to America, apparently, something his parents viewed with considerable alarm, so they compromised with a request for Edinburgh.”

  “How do you know all of this?” Staverton demanded incredulously.

  “Sir Frederick Tilton told me much of it. I discovered the rest myself.”

  “Why would Tilton confide so much in you?” Grant MacLonan asked.

  “Williams arrived shortly before Sir Frederick was posted to London. Tilton loathed the man and had concerns about leaving him here in Scotland with Harris as his commanding officer.”

  “How right Papa was!”

  Ramsey nodded. “Yes, unfortunately so. I fear that Harris, with his background of allowing himself to be rewarded by men of wealth and power, is not the man to force the issue with Lieutenant Williams.”

  “Then what do we do?” Staverton asked.

  James shot him a quick, fierce look. “We do nothing! If Harris refuses to act, I will bring Williams to justice myself.”

  “What do you mean to do?” Grant asked uneasily.

  “Challenge the lieutenant to a duel,” James replied quietly.

  “No, James you must not!”

  “I cannot allow him to go free. Not after what he did to you, Thea. Not after he killed Maggie.”

  Lord Staverton bowed. “You will need a second, MacLonan. I am at your disposal.”

  “Jamie, stop being so hotheaded!” Grant stifled a curse as he pushed himself awkwardly to his feet. “Damn these old bones,” he muttered. He walked slowly over to his son, then stood before him, straight and just an inch or two shorter. “I brought you home, James MacLonan, to see to Glenmuir, not to lose your freedom in a duel with an English officer!” He looked from James to Staverton, then back to James. “Are both of you mad? This is just the excuse the authorities need to send you into exile again.”

  Thea groaned. “No!”

  “Not necessarily,” Brendon interjected. He smiled wryly at the expressions on the faces that turned his way. Grant MacLonan’s was fierce, his blue eyes snapping beneath heavy brows; Thea’s desperate and afraid; Staverton’s wary behind a mask of casual boredom; and James’s surprised, but hopeful. “Pray do not misunderstand me. I do not approve of dueling, but in this case I fear it may be the only way to bring Williams to account for his actions. And I agree with Grant MacLonan. A duel in which James, a former rebel, with Staverton, another former Jacobite, as his second, challenged an English officer would only lead to disaster, no matter how correctly it was managed. But if James were represented by someone in good standing with the government, what could be done? Although duels are officially illegal, if all of the rules that surround the contest are carried out properly, there is nothing that can be done, provided one opponent does not kill the other.”

  “Are you offering your services, Ramsey?” James said slowly.

  Brendon bowed. “I am.”

  Thea leapt up from her chair and hastened to where James was standing. She gras
ped her husband’s arm and tugged. “No! James, listen to me! This isn’t necessary. Please, please do not rush into anything.”

  “Knew it was a mistake allowing Mrs. MacLonan into this discussion,” Staverton observed to no one in particular.

  Thea rounded on him. “I am the only sensible one amongst you! I know Colonel Harris! He hates James, because of me. He will use a duel against James, no matter who James has as his second, and no matter what the outcome of the duel.” She turned back to her husband. “James, I’ve already written my father, telling him what happened and asking him to do whatever possible to bring Williams to justice. Give him time to make arrangements in London. Please, James.”

  Grant MacLonan moved away, leaving James to detach his arm from Thea’s grip and take her elbow to lead her over to a corner of the room where they could be private. “Thea, I cannot stand idle and wait for your father to sort everything out. I cannot. I must deal with Williams myself. Do you understand?”

  “No. James, all I understand is that you are taking risks that may drive you away from me! Please do not. Stop this mad discussion now, before words become actions and it is all too late.”

  He dropped her elbow and stood back a step. “Thea, I am sorry, but I cannot.”

  Her hand crept up to her cheek in a vulnerable movement that expressed more than mere words. She turned away moments before James took a step toward her.

  Grant MacLonan cleared his throat. “Perhaps this plan will be unnecessary. Harris may be willing to deal with Williams.”

  “Quite possibly,” Brendon Ramsey agreed heartily. “For all his faults, the man is honest. He will do what is right.”

  Staverton sipped his brandy and said nothing.

  It was his amused, cynical gaze that Thea caught when she looked up, and the message she read there was very clear. The men were closing ranks against her, reassuring her so that she would no longer worry, while her husband did his best to get himself killed or exiled once again. Annoyance came to her rescue, pushing aside illness and fear. She glared at each man in turn. “I will not be patronized by any of you. You will not convince me that Colonel Harris will do what is right and proper, because I know the man better than any of you. Nor will you convince me that James will be able to survive a duel unscathed.”

  Colonel Harris would rub his hands with glee when he discovered that James had challenged Williams to a duel. Thea was as certain of that as she was that no matter how hard she argued, she would be unable to keep James from challenging the lieutenant.

  She tilted her head up so that she could look her husband in the eye and said the most difficult words she had ever forced herself to say. “I married you, James MacLonan, for better or worse, and you married me, sir, so that my English connections would lend you respectability. Therefore, my dear husband, I will continue to petition my father, but I promise to stand by your side whatever befalls you. You have my support.”

  At her words, the grim expression on James’s face eased into a tender smile, a rich reward that Thea cherished. She reached out to him and he responded, catching her hands and drawing her close to him.

  “Nothing will go wrong,” he said in a soft voice.

  Drawing on a strength she didn’t know she possessed, Thea smiled. “I know, James.”

  She didn’t believe a word of it.

  Chapter 16

  “MacLonan. Come in and sit down,” Harris said, smiling a welcome as he stood and came round his desk to usher James into his austere little office.

  James was instantly wary. Harris had no cause to like him and every reason to resent him. This show of goodwill sat ill upon the man. “May I take it that you have a positive answer for me?”

  Harris appeared troubled, but he repeated in a friendly way, “Please, do sit down, MacLonan. Might as well be comfortable while we chat, eh?”

  James glanced pointedly at the hard wooden chair and allowed a wry smile to quirk his lips. Harris cleared his throat and pretended not to notice as he returned to his own side of the desk. James settled onto the wooden chair, then observed the colonel through narrowed eyes.

  “Two days isn’t long enough to make a decision on a question of such magnitude as the one you raised,” Harris said as he too sat down. There was a hint of nervousness in his hearty tone.

  “Not good enough, Harris,” James retorted crisply. “One of your men went beyond his orders.” He paused for the space of a heartbeat before he added softly, “Or did he?”

  Harris placed his hands flat upon the desk. “Explain that remark, if you please, sir!”

  “The Highlands have been quiet for years now. Why the sudden interest on the part of His Majesty’s Army?”

  His face an unreadable mask, Harris picked up a quill pen, then twirled it back and forth along his fingers. “Nothing sudden about it. We regularly send out patrols to check that the laws are not being contravened.”

  “If Williams was supposed to seek out illegal whiskey stills and rusted swords buried in the peat, why did he choose to question a woman on those matters? And when my wife suggested he come to me for information, why did he refuse?”

  Harris smiled and shrugged. Throwing down the pen, he said, “Williams is young and enthusiastic, MacLonan! This was his first independent command and he was excited over the responsibility.” Harris leaned forward, his smile inviting James to join him in his tolerance for the exuberance of youth. “Garrison duty is fine for an old soldier like me, but a young sprig like Williams hungers for glory and excitement.”

  “Then you admit Williams went beyond the acceptable limits of his orders?”

  Harris sat up straight, annoyance expressed on his round face. “To some degree, yes.”

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  Colonel Harris picked up the pen again. This time he flicked the quill through his fingers in a movement that reminded James of nothing so much as an annoyed cat, lashing its tail. “As I told you the other day, MacLonan, Lieutenant Williams is on leave at the moment. When he returns I will reprimand him, I assure you.”

  “Reprimand him?” James repeated incredulously. “Is that all the punishment he’ll get? God’s teeth, Harris! He murdered a woman. The man should be court-martialed!”

  The pen whipped through Harris’s fingers. “I cannot do that at this time.”

  James stood slowly, then walked over to the tiny window that lit the whitewashed room. He stood beside it, looking out, careful to keep his face in profile as he spoke, forcing his enemy to turn awkwardly in his chair. “Why, Colonel Harris? Why is it impossible for you to court-martial one of your officers for cold-blooded murder and assault?”

  “I… just can’t. That’s all.”

  James turned, his back to the light, his face in shadow. “By your own admission, you have an officer who is insubordinate, who murdered an innocent woman, and who taunted, then struck, a gentlewoman, and all you can say is that you can’t punish him? Listen to yourself, Harris. Do you realize how weak and ineffectual you make yourself sound?”

  Harris pushed his chair back and stood. “That’s enough! I was commanded to send Williams out on that patrol. I knew there was some danger of his overstepping his orders, but it was a necessary evil for the greater benefit of all! I am sorry the woman was killed. I am sorry Mrs. MacLonan was injured. But at the moment I can do nothing! Williams cannot be brought to court-martial.”

  “So,” James said softly, “Williams was not on a simple policing mission, looking for illegal stills as you claimed.”

  Harris glared at James, but neither confirmed nor denied his statement.

  James pressed harder. Dangerous as it was, he wanted to hear the truth. He wanted an admission of what he already knew. “Was Williams sent to Glenmuir looking for rebels, Harris? One certain rebel who was seen in London, but who distressingly disappeared? A man who might decide to visit a former adherent in his Highland home? A prince once thought to be dead, Harris? Was that who Williams was seeking?”

>   Shock whitened Harris’s features. Then he narrowed his eyes in shrewd speculation. “What do you know of the whereabouts of the Pretender?”

  “Nothing, beyond what is generally known,” James said contemptuously.

  “I hesitate to contradict you, MacLonan,” the colonel said with more confidence in his voice than he’d had for some time, “but the presence of Prince Charles Edward Stuart in London was hardly common knowledge.”

  James curled his lip in a sneer. “Is that what Whitehall is telling you, Harris? No wonder you sent out a patrol with orders to intimidate and terrorize the Highlands.”

  “I did nothing of the sort!”

  “A woman is dead and my wife assaulted by one of your officers!”

  “You yourself admit the woman’s death was accidental,” Harris retorted belligerently. “Williams may have been at fault for thoughtlessness, but I will not ruin a man’s career for a trivial incident…”

  “Trivial!” James said savagely, stepping away from the window. “It seems that the law of what is right and wrong has blurred in His Hanoverian Majesty’s Army! Very well then, Harris, I shall waste no more of your valuable time discussing this ‘trivial incident’ with you.”

  Harris stiffened. “What are you going to do?”

  His brows raised haughtily, James surveyed the Englishman. “Williams is an officer and therefore, by definition, a gentleman. I shall settle my differences with him directly.”

  “Are you planning to challenge Lieutenant Williams to a duel?”

  James curled his lip and looked down his nose in a supercilious way, a trick he’d learned in France and one he knew was guaranteed to annoy. “Dueling is illegal, Harris,” he said gently. “And I am a law-abiding man.”

  “Go back to your Highland valley, MacLonan. Leave this to me.”

  James sauntered to the door, opened it, then turned back to the colonel. “What do you have to worry about, Harris? Lieutenant Williams is on leave at the moment, is he not?”