by Deborah Hale
“Brancasters!” Tessa spat the word out like some vile oath as she wrenched her fingers out of Claire’s grasp. “I should have known. You’re more concerned with protecting your grandfather’s precious company than with my happiness.”
“Now, Tessa, you know that’s not true.”
Lady Lydiard could hold her tongue no longer. “Apologize to Claire, at once, Tessa.” She rose from the settee. “Your sister would never have involved herself in this unsavory business if I had not appealed to her for help. If you must be angry with someone, let it be me.”
Claire wasn’t certain which of them her stepmother’s words surprised more—her, Tessa, or Lady Lydiard herself.
Surprised or not, Tessa made no effort to apologize. “This is worse than I thought, if both of you are allied against me. I don’t care, though. I will not let you spoil my chance of happiness!”
With that, she spun away and ran out of the morning room, slamming the door behind her.
Claire and Lady Lydiard stood frozen for a moment, listening to the muted pounding of footsteps up the stairs. Then her ladyship wilted down onto the settee again.
“This is worse than I thought.” She echoed her daughter’s words. “Tessa has always been such a willful child. And I fear I’ve only made it worse by indulging her so often. What if she runs away to Scotland and marries the fellow, just to spite us?”
Runs away to Scotland. Those words stirred an idea in Claire’s mind.
She sank back onto her chair and took a drink of her tea, only to find it had gone cold. “I’m afraid that’s just what might happen if we push her too far. We need to let her feelings cool to the point where she can be reasoned with.”
“What are you suggesting?” In spite of the early hour, Lady Lydiard appeared in need of a stronger drink than tea. “That we should look the other way while this fellow continues to pursue my daughter all over London in such a scandalous fashion?”
“Not quite.” Suddenly Claire’s plan took shape with brilliant clarity. For only the second time in her cautious life, she tasted the heady draft of reckless zeal. “We need to keep them apart long enough for Tessa to come to her senses. In the meantime, we must force Ewan Geddes to tip his hand, so she can see him for the fortune-hunting troublemaker he is.”
“And how are we to accomplish that?”
A tiny secretive smile tugged at a corner of Claire’s mouth. The more details she added to her plan, the better she liked it.
“We must present Mr. Geddes with an even more tempting target for his schemes.”
Her ladyship’s eyes widened. “You?”
Claire nodded. Then she remembered another bold plan of hers that had involved Ewan Geddes, and how disastrously it had gone awry.
“This is a pleasant surprise, I must say.” Two evenings later, Ewan looked around the table at the three Talbot ladies, his eyes coming to rest upon Tessa, seated opposite him.
Ten years ago, if anyone had told him the day would come when he’d be sitting down to dine at Lydiard House, he wouldn’t have believed them. It felt as though he was in sight of the crest of a tall peak he’d been scaling for as long as he could remember.
“I was afraid ye ladies might not take kindly to my renewing Miss Tessa’s acquaintance after all these years.”
Lady Lydiard didn’t take kindly to it. Ewan could feel her critical gaze trained upon him, as if she was just waiting for him to fumble his forks or drink the contents of his finger bowl.
He would not be sorry to disappoint her.
From the foot of the table, Claire Talbot spoke up. “I won’t attempt to deceive you, Mr. Geddes. Tessa’s mother and I are concerned about the … haste with which she is making important decisions concerning her future.”
“Claire …” murmured her sister, a distinct note of warning in her voice.
Ewan caught Tessa’s eye, then gave a subtle shake of his head. A great family row wasn’t likely to win him sympathy from her mother and sister. “It’s fine. Honestly. I have no objection to hearing the truth.”
They ate their soup in awkward silence for a while before Claire Talbot spoke again.
“As you may recall from our younger years, my sister has a strong will and knows her own mind. Since her mother and I both love her very much, we do not wish to cause an unfortunate breach in our family, as can sometimes occur under these circumstances.”
“A wise and compassionate course, Miss Talbot.” Ewan found himself warming to Claire in spite of himself.
It couldn’t have been easy for a woman of her spirit to back down from the defiant challenge she’d flung at him on the night of the Fortescues’ ball. But she recognized that opposing him too forcefully might push her sister straight into his arms. And she cared too much about Tessa to risk estranging her.
“A practical course, sir.” Miss Talbot seemed pleased by his praise. “My years in the world of commerce have taught me to be practical, even when it comes to matters of the heart.”
A serving maid stepped forward to collect their soup bowls. Ewan murmured a word of thanks when she took his. Was it his imagination, or did she look a bit familiar? Could she be one of the wee lasses from Strathandrew, brought south to serve in the family’s London home?
Claire Talbot spoke again, distracting Ewan from his thoughts. “The reason we invited you here this evening was so we might begin to get better acquainted with you. Of course, we remember you from our summers in Strathandrew, but that was quite some time ago. Tell me, do you get much opportunity to hunt and fish over in America?”
“Not as much as I’d like,” Ewan admitted, as the serving maid placed the fish course before him—poached Highland salmon.
A gillie on the estate must have caught it and sent it south by train, packed in ice.
“My work has kept me pretty busy, ye know. It’s only in the past year or two that I’ve been able to take my nose from the grindstone.”
He took a bite of the salmon. The soft pink flesh melted on his tongue with a familiar salty-sweet flavor so delicious Ewan closed his eyes, the better to savor it. If Lady Lydiard hadn’t been watching him so closely, he might have let out a faint groan of pleasure.
“I know what you mean,” said Claire. “Since taking over at Brancasters, I have not had much opportunity for leisure, myself. Why, just this morning, I realized that it has been fully three years since I last spent any time at Strathandrew. It used to be the highlight of the year, when Tessa and I were children.”
Her gaze took on a far-off look, and Ewan thought he detected a hint of wistful softness in her eyes.
He remembered the Talbots’ summer visits, too. The flurry of anticipation as the great house was opened up and cleaned from cellar to attic. The larder stocked with all sorts of delicacies brought from the south. Fishing tackle sorted and line mended. Guns hauled out and cleaned in preparation for lots of hunting parties.
Then, on the day the Talbots’ yacht moored in the firth, he would steal down to watch the family and their guests disembark. And to take his first, private look at Tessa, to see how much taller she’d grown. How her figure was beginning to fill out in just the right places. If she was wearing her hair in a new style. Whether she was still as bonny as he’d remembered her.
Now he had only to glance across the table … which he did.
The lass was as much a feast for his eyes as the salmon was for his palate—so dainty, soft and golden. She looked almost as though time had stood still for her during the years they’d been apart. For some reason he couldn’t quite puzzle out, that notion troubled him vaguely.
Again Claire Talbot’s voice broke in on his thoughts. “I’ve just had a grand idea. Why don’t we all go up to Strathandrew for a few weeks? Mr. Geddes can come as our guest. It will give us an opportunity to get better acquainted, away from the formality of London. What do you think?”
She glanced around the table at the others, her eyes finally coming to rest upon Ewan.
Tessa slammed
down her fork with a force that threatened the delicate china of her plate. “If you must know, I think you’re far more interested in spiriting Ewan and me away from all the tattling tongues in London than you are about getting reacquainted.”
Before Claire could reply to her sister’s charge, Lady Lydiard spoke. “Please excuse my daughter’s ill manners, Mr. Geddes. I can’t think where she’s picked them up.”
Her ladyship’s cool stare told Ewan she need look no further than him.
To Tessa she added, “I believe you owe Claire an apology. Thank heaven there is someone in the family who considers propriety.”
“No apologies necessary,” said Claire, though her face had gone a bit pale during her sister’s rebuke. “Tessa is correct, in part, about my motive for suggesting a holiday in Scotland. I fail to see what harm it will do to exercise a little discretion. There is bound to be a good deal of gossip, in any case, dearest, if you break your engagement. Why add to it?”
“When I break my engagement.”
The lass had spirit, that was certain. Ewan knew he should be grateful that she wasn’t ashamed of her feelings for him, and that she was willing to defy her family on his account, if necessary. All the same, her sharp tone and quarrelsome air set his teeth on edge.
Beneath the table, he gave her foot a gentle nudge. “Well, I think a holiday at good old Strathandrew is a capital idea, Miss Talbot. I was hoping to make a wee visit home, anyway. It’ll be almost like old times, eh?”
Tessa’s features softened. Perhaps she was picturing the two of them riding through the hills, sharing a picnic lunch of Rosie McMurdo’s fine cooking, or walking together by the burn in the late summer gloaming. Those thoughts certainly brought a smile to Ewan’s lips.
Of course, that wouldn’t be like old times, he reminded himself. During the summers of their youth, the thought of wooing Lord Lydiard’s daughter was one he’d reserved for his hopeless dreams. Being able to court her in the familiar splendor of the Highlands, away from prying eyes and tattling tongues, would be like a dream come true.
A dream he’d cherished so long and so desperately, he doubted he could let go of it now, even if he’d wanted to.
Chapter Four
The faintly bilious sensation in the pit of Claire’s stomach had nothing to do with the gentle rocking of the yacht. Unlike her sister and stepmother, she seldom suffered a moment’s seasickness, even in the roughest weather. During their annual voyages to Strathandrew, she had taken keen enjoyment in prowling the decks, questioning the crew about sails and rigging, her senses quickened by the rhythm of the waves and the tang of the sea breeze as it rippled through her hair.
Several years since their last such voyage, Claire now stood on the deck of the Marlet, awaiting Ewan Geddes’s arrival. She reached up to make certain her becoming new hat was firmly secured atop her flattering new coiffure.
Lady Lydiard’s hairdresser had assured her the lower, looser style made her look quite five years younger. Claire had tried to ignore the shallow compliment, but she had not been able to subdue a ridiculous flicker of pleasure … any more than she could subdue the nervous, expectant flutter in her stomach.
Perhaps it was the corset.
Claire suspected the blame for a vast percentage of feminine maladies lay with this unnatural binding of women’s bodies. It was a measure of her regard for Tessa that she had submitted to its tyranny.
Rubbish! protested a voice from deep in her memory—the voice of her late father. You’d never have a hope of winning that bounder away from your sister with your looks. And no amount of corsets, cunning hats or fussy hairstyles will alter that!
Claire’s insides clenched as if powerful hands had jerked the laces of her corset tighter still. Pulling herself to her full height, she thrust out her chin. When he’d been alive, she had never given her father the satisfaction of guessing how much his constant censure had stung. She was not about to let that change just because he was dead.
There was some truth in the notion, though, she admitted to herself as she opened her parasol against the cheerful glare of the sun. She did not expect to win Ewan Geddes with her looks, but with her money.
Once she took care to let him know how little fortune Tessa had in her own right, no doubt he would alter his course in favor of a more lucrative opportunity. Still, Claire did not wish to make him view the prospect as altogether odious.
What time had it gotten to be? She foraged in her reticule and brought out a large gold pocket watch that had once belonged to her grandfather. She consulted the heavy old timepiece, then searched the bustling quayside for a glimpse of Ewan Geddes.
There he was! A powerful wave of relief buffeted Claire.
He strode down the quay with a pair of baggage porters scurrying along in his wake. Then he paused for a moment, peering around at the diverse assemblage of vessels. Claire could tell the precise instant he spotted the Marlet, for he gave a visible start, then headed toward the yacht.
Claire’s insides pitched and swayed worse than ever. She had been a fool to go to such lengths to beautify herself for Ewan Geddes. No doubt he would see through her pitiful plan and laugh at her for even trying to win him away from Tessa. For an instant she considered going below decks and hiding out there with the excuse of some feigned indisposition.
Then she remembered everything at stake—Tessa’s happiness and Spencer’s, as well as the fortunes of the company her grandfather had entrusted to her. She mustn’t give up without a fight.
Resisting the urge to adjust her hat one last time, she approached the gangway as Ewan Geddes sprinted up it.
“Welcome aboard!” Claire smiled, surprised to discover how little effort it required. “I hope you did not have too much difficulty finding us?”
“None at all.” He doffed his hat and bowed over the hand she extended to him. “I apologize for being so late. I had a few pressing business matters to attend to. I hope I haven’t kept everyone waiting.”
“Quite the contrary.” Claire managed to withdraw her hand from his, with considerable reluctance. “I only arrived a short while ago myself, and there has been no sign of Tessa and her mother. I expect they’ll be here soon.”
She directed a member of the crew to show the porters where to stow Ewan’s trunk. When she glanced back, she found him staring at her with an intense and somewhat puzzled look.
Immediately, she raised her hand to her hair. “I beg your pardon. Is something the matter?”
Ewan answered with a decisive shake of his head and a slow blossoming smile that might have made Claire’s knees grow weak if she’d let them. “Quite the opposite, Miss Talbot. I was only thinking it’s a lucky woman who can claim the passage of ten years has made her more bonny, not less.”
Powerful, contrary feelings collided within Claire. Sweet dizzy delight at finally receiving the kind of compliment she’d waited a decade to hear. A flicker of triumph that all her ridiculous preparations had not been in vain.
Poisoning both of those was the bitter certainty that Ewan Geddes only flattered her to further his own selfish ends, like so many unscrupulous men before him. Unlike those other men, he had one most distressing advantage—she wanted to believe him as she had never wanted to believe them.
That sense of vulnerability brought a sharp reply to the tip of her tongue, but Claire managed to imprison it behind a forced smile. It would not do to trade barbs with Ewan Geddes if she hoped to make him pursue her. But she had spent too many years fending off fortune hunters’ compliments to begin lapping them up now.
She affected a tone of breezy banter. “If you believe the past ten years have improved my looks, then you must have thought me very ill-favored when we were young!”
Averting her face, so his sharp scrutiny would not catch a glimpse of the pain her eyes might betray, Claire set off on a leisurely turn around the deck. She heard Ewan’s brisk footsteps following her.
“I can’t deny, Miss Talbot …” He gave a soft chuckle
. “In those days, I only had eyes for yer sister.”
“Whereas you now notice other women?” Hard as she tried, Claire could not resist baiting him.
She braced for a sharp retort or a mocking return jab. His gust of laughter, as invigorating as a sea breeze, took her by surprise. “You find my remark amusing?” she asked.
“Aye, in a way.” His eyes sparkled with impudent glee,F much better suited to a young Highland gillie than to a mature man of business in a well-tailored suit. “Ye took me back ten years, is all. To a time when the pair of us liked nothing better than going at each other hammer and tongs.”
His infectious camaraderie could seduce her more easily than other men’s passionate or sentimental lovemaking … if she did not resist.
“Are you saying there was something you liked better than making calves’ eyes at my sister, Ewan Geddes?”
“I reckon ye have me there, lass.” He gave a bark of wry laughter at his own expense. “Likely I’m counting myself too high in yer regard, as well. There must have been plenty of other things ye fancied more than trading friendly insults with a hired boy.”
He was wrong about that. There’d been nothing she liked better. At least when he’d answered her thinly veiled insults with comical quips that skirted the edge of outright insolence, she’d been assured of his attention, however fleeting. And she’d had a safe outlet for the futile fury that built up inside her when she’d watched the handsome young gillie showing off for the benefit of her sister.
Claire ignored his question, in case her tone or expression somehow communicated the truth. “Dear me! I wonder where Tessa and her mother can have gotten to?”
Where had Lady Lydiard’s messenger gotten to? Claire cast a nervous glance at the quayside. Someone should have been here by now. Timing was critical to her plan.
Ewan leaned against the deck railing, turning his top hat around and around by its brim. “Do ye reckon Lady Lydiard might be dragging her feet?”
