by Meara Platt
She shook her head, causing her fashionably styled curls to bob about her plump cheeks. “You are welcome for as long as you wish to remain.”
He thanked her and gave over the letter Lavinia had written her.
She set it aside on her writing desk that was tucked in a corner of her parlor, and then walked back to his side and settled on one of the blue silk chairs beside the fireplace. She motioned for him to take the matching one beside her. The night was warm and damp. There was no fire lit, nor did one need to be lit to heat the room. But it was a cozy corner where the two of them could speak quietly without being overheard.
He expected their conversation to proceed with a polite recounting of his time spent at Sherbourne Manor and a comment about Beast and Goose in their wedded bliss, but Matilda surprised him by suddenly casting him a sober look. “Thad, dear. Are you aware that both the Earl of Caithness and Earl of Hume are now in London?”
He sat up sharply. Hadn’t he just been thinking of them? “Are ye certain?”
She nodded. “They arrived earlier today. Separately, of course. They won’t speak to each other.”
He shot her a wry grin, finding it amazing that a dowager who rarely left her home knew as much about the comings and goings of these earls as the best trained agents of the Crown. “Do ye happen to know why they’re here?”
He expected that Caithness had been summoned for the same reason Castlereagh had ordered him to London. To bring back their dead kinsmen, give them a proper funeral service with all the military honors afforded to officers, and afterward, escort their bodies back to their beloved Highlands for distinguished burial.
But the Earl of Hume was a Lowlander. He had no men that Thad was aware of serving in the Greys.
“They’re both here to see you,” Matilda said, further surprising him.
He arched an eyebrow. “Me? Why?”
“I have my suspicions, but I dare not say. I could be wrong.”
Thad snorted. “Ye rarely are, Your Grace.”
She waved the comment off with a dismissive shake of her ringed fingers. “How much do you know of your mother’s family?”
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Nothing.” After a moment, he leaned forward and regarded her with hopeful curiosity. “I won’t deny that it’s left a gaping hole in my heart. My mother’s blood runs through me as well, but Caithness forbade our kinsmen to speak of her or her clan. Ye seem well informed about them. Please, tell me what ye know.”
*
“I’m not heartsick over Thad’s absence,” Penelope insisted, frowning at her friends.
Poppy’s sister had arrived at Sherbourne Manor in the early afternoon and was now seated on Penelope’s bed along with Poppy and Olivia. She tried not to frown at Violet who had done nothing to warrant her ire.
Quite the opposite, Violet was delightful. She hoped the girl would distract Poppy and Olivia long enough to keep them from fussing over her. How she felt about Thad was her business. What she intended to do about him was also her business. “Is Thad the nice-looking Scottish gentleman we met at your wedding, Poppy? The one who was paying a lot of attention to Miss Billings?”
Penelope felt Violet’s innocent remark pierce her like a knife to the heart. “He was?”
“No,” Poppy quickly replied. “That was Dr. Carmichael. Miss Billings ordered some medical books for him, but I don’t suppose that was really on his mind when he asked her to dance. We have a few Scots in our midst. The vicar, Adam Carstairs, is also from Scotland.”
Violet grinned. “I remember him. The one with deep, blue eyes. All the ladies were flitting about him like butterflies, offering to assist him in his charitable work and making pious comments. But it was obvious their thoughts were on him and not on any pious deeds. Oh, I know which one you mean now. Thad is the big, rugged one. He was awfully quiet.”
Olivia shook her head and laughed. “He was in dread fear of Penelope. Once Poppy married, it was her turn to get The Book of Love. Poor Thad knew he was done for.”
“He was never in any danger from me.” Penelope hoped the ache in her voice was not evident. “He isn’t even here now.”
Violet cast her a curious look. “Where did he go?”
“To London, but only long enough to receive new orders. We don’t know where he’ll be sent next.” She clasped her hands together in a failed attempt to ease her distress. Nothing would make her feel better except the return of that big, rugged Scot.
“Oh.” Violet cast her a sympathetic look. “He’s been a good friend to all of you. I’m sure you’re all worried about him.”
“We are,” Olivia said, obviously aware of Penelope’s turmoil and sparing her the need to respond. “But Thad is smart. He’ll come out of it all right.” She hopped off Penelope’s bed and walked over to give her a quick hug. “It’s getting late. Time for me to go home. But I’ll see you tomorrow. We have my birthday party to plan.”
Penelope laughed.
Poppy groaned. “It was supposed to be a surprise! What gave us away?”
Olivia grinned. “The devil-child told me, of course. Pip sees and hears everything. He was so excited about my birthday and begged to be allowed to attend.”
“Pip is so sweet! I would love his company.” Violet was barely sixteen and had a few more years before she would be on the market for marriage. At the moment, she had more in common with Pip. But Penelope knew this would change in another year or two when her thoughts turned to her future and finding the right man to marry.
Violet would be taken quickly, Penelope knew. She was as sweet as Poppy and just as beautiful. Her eyes were an incredible violet-blue that were hidden behind unbecoming spectacles. She had the look of a bluestocking, perhaps the makings of a wallflower despite her pretty features. But any man of discerning taste would appreciate her and love her for the good person she was.
“Of course, Pip will be allowed to attend,” Olivia assured. “However, the Sherbourne footmen will have to remain on high alert. That boy is bound to do something to disrupt the party. I hope it won’t be a spider in the ratafia punch. Oh, I really must go. See you all tomorrow. Let’s visit Miss Billings at her bookshop after breakfast. I need another book to read.”
Violet clapped her hands. “I love bookshops. I often go browsing with our cousin Lily whenever I’m in London.”
“We can walk into town if the weather’s nice. Otherwise, we’ll take Nathaniel’s carriage,” Poppy said, shaking her head and grinning. “I shall never get used to the crest emblazoned on its door. I still can’t think of myself as a countess. I find the notion absurd. Me? Countess Poppy?”
“Mother and Father can’t quite believe it either,” Violet said with a smirk. “But that hasn’t stopped them from boasting.”
“Oh, dear. I hope they don’t overdo it. I’ve only been a countess for a few weeks. I haven’t even thrown my first party yet.” She glanced at Penelope. “You must have a look at the menu Lavinia and I have planned. Let me know if we’ve overlooked anything. And how do I arrange for an orchestra? What else am I missing?”
Penelope took her hand. “Stop fretting. It will be a beautiful evening Olivia will not soon forget.” She called to her friend who was about to leave her bedchamber. “Olivia, you must pretend to be surprised, or our guests will be disappointed.”
“I’ll practice my expressions in the mirror. You may remark on my extraordinary acting performance after the party.” She bid her friends farewell and hurried downstairs to find Beast.
Poppy and Violet retired to their quarters as well.
Penelope was left alone with her thoughts.
Of course, they drifted to Thad.
She missed him.
Was he thinking of her at all?
Chapter Seven
Thad was given a two o’clock appointment with Lord Castlereagh the following day. He made his way through the crowded streets of London, past the houses of Parliament and Westminster Abbey, allowing Thor to move at an eas
y lope along the Thames embankment toward the ministry offices.
Would the two earls be there?
He was comfortable enough with his granduncle, the Earl of Caithness. But what did one say to a grandfather one had never met? Good day, Grandfather. I’m sorry I killed your only daughter.
He knew so little about his mother. Her name was Galen Hume. Lady Galen. She had copper-red hair and emerald eyes, or so old Fiona had told him one afternoon before he’d gone off to university. He’d been sitting in the kitchen, watching the toothless harridan burn their evening meal. “She met yer father at a grand ball in Edinburgh,” she’d whispered, glancing around to make certain they weren’t overheard. “It was love at first sight for the both of ’em. Neither Laird Caithness nor Laird Hume were happy about it. Yer father was forbidden to court her. Yer mother was forbidden ever to speak to him. But they defied their families, both of them thickheaded and determined. No one was going to tell them what to do.”
They’d eloped, Fiona had told him.
Thad shook back to the present as he reached the ministry building. A soldier met him at the entry gate. He dismounted and handed him Thor’s reins. “I’ll stable your horse, Captain MacLauren. Lord Castlereagh is expecting you.”
Another soldier showed him to Lord Castlereagh’s office. “Have a seat, Captain MacLauren. His lordship will be in shortly.” He motioned to a chair in front of a massive, paper-covered desk, and then left Thad alone to await him. Well, Thad wasn’t quite alone. Two soldiers stood at attention beside the door through which he’d just entered.
He was impressed.
Their uniforms gave them away as the king’s personal guards. Castlereagh was important indeed to merit this protection. Since he knew these guardsmen would not be permitted to speak to him, he strolled to the window and passed the time watching the skiffs and schooners sail down the Thames.
The Thames waters were a muddy blue. The London sky was gray. The street below was crowded and a faintly foul odor from the Thames floated upward to reach his nostrils.
What was he doing here?
He wanted to take his fallen kinsmen home and see them properly buried in the unspoiled Scottish earth where their souls would rest amid the green hills and rough-hewn crags, and the golden sun would be beat down upon their sacred graves.
“Ah, Captain MacLauren, you’re here. Sorry to keep you waiting.” A portly, older fellow bustled in and hurried over to shake his hand. “Do have a seat, lad. We have much to discuss.”
Thad settled in the wooden chair in front of Castlereagh’s desk, eager to hear what the man required of him.
“As you may have heard, your grandfather requested that I bring you home immediately after the Waterloo campaign. I expect he’s told you the reason, so I won’t elaborate.”
He began to shuffle the papers littering his desk. Thad noticed the wood was of finest mahogany, but the elegance and obvious expense appeared lost on Castlereagh who was known for his tireless efforts to secure a lasting peace rather than for his political ambition or witty social repartee.
“My grandfather?”
Castlereagh paused in shuffling his papers to regard Thad curiously. “Yes, the Earl of Hume.”
Thad emitted a bark of laughter. “Forgive me, my lord. But ye must be mistaken. Not only have I never spoken to the earl, I’ve never even met him. So, I’d appreciate being told why he would care if I lived or died.”
Castlereagh appeared surprised. “Did Caithness say nothing to you either?”
“If the information had to do with Clan Hume, he’d rot in his grave before he ever passed it on to me.”
“Oh, dear. I see. So am I to understand that you’ve received no information at all?”
“None, my lord. Not a word in the two months I’ve been back.”
He frowned. “Blasted, stubborn earls. This doesn’t only concern them, but will they put their pride aside to do what’s right? No. They’ll leave me to fix things…as if I don’t have enough to do. Their petty squabbles are nothing to restoring peace throughout Europe.”
He rose and came around to the front of his desk. “Thaddius, my boy…”
Thad rose as well, for he knew that look of dismissal and was not ready to leave without answers. In truth, he only wanted to know one thing. “Are my brother and Caithness cousins alive? That’s all I care about.”
Castlereagh cast him a sympathetic grimace. “I’m dealing with thousands of men and dozens of regiments from all over the kingdom. Welsh, Scottish, Irish, and English. Not to mention, negotiating with our European allies. I’ll be sending a diplomatic delegation to Austria soon, headed by me since His Majesty trusts no one else with the assignment. Names by the hundreds cross my desk every day. I honestly don’t know the fate of your kinsmen.”
He pursed his lips and motioned for Thad to follow him out. “Mr. Beardsley is my head clerk, an officious little weasel, but he’ll give you an answer. However, I would prefer that you wait until this evening.”
“Why?”
“Because I’d rather you heard the news-whatever it may be-from the Earl of Caithness. It isn’t right that it should come from a stranger. I’m dining with him and Hume at a private dinner this evening. Come with me as my guest.”
“I’d rather not have my family business aired at some skinny-arsed lord’s dinner party. Ye’ll forgive me if I decline. Besides, what makes ye think your host will allow ye to bring me along?”
“I’m the skinny-arsed host, although I’d hardly call myself thin.” He rubbed his ample belly and chuckled. “It’s my dinner party. At my home. The only guests are Caithness and Hume…and now you. Gad, you Scots are an impertinent lot.”
Thad ignored the comment and cast him a dubious glance. “How did that come about? The two won’t walk down the same street, and ye think to seat them together at yer table?”
“I will, and they’ll behave because I’ll have Caithness and your grandfather–”
“Don’t refer to the Earl of Hume as that to me.”
Castlereagh sighed. “You Scots are stubborn and prideful, too. Have you always been this way?” He shook his head and continued without awaiting an answer from Thad. In truth, he wasn’t seeking a response to the question. “You’ll behave or I’ll have the three of you locked away in the Tower. Don’t doubt my authority to do it. His Majesty’s own guards will place anyone who fails to appear or show me proper respect under arrest.”
Thad ran a hand through his hair in consternation. “So, I’ll be trapped with ye and those two earls? I hope the food’s decent. Verra well. Until this evening. But if I don’t receive answers tonight, I’ll start cracking heads.”
Thad returned to Beast’s townhouse in no fit humor to be good company. He was relieved to be told Lady Matilda was on one of her rare excursions out and would not return until late in the evening. “I’ll be going out shortly as well,” he informed Beast’s butler.
He started for the study, knowing his friend maintained an excellent stock of brandy and intended to grab a bottle with which to drown his frustration, only to quickly change his mind. He would need his wits about him when he confronted the grandfather he’d never met.
He climbed the stairs to his bedchamber and rang for mild refreshments instead. Tea and cakes. That would hold him until supper.
He considered donning his clan tartan instead of his uniform for this unwelcome evening, but decided against it. To wear the plaid instead of his uniform would signify his allegiance to Caithness. He did care for the old hound, but did not like that he was being used by him to get back at Hume.
He wasn’t pleased with either earl at the moment, and refused to show allegiance to either of them until he received the information he wanted. It ought to have been provided to him months ago.
He rode Thor to Castlereagh’s home at the appointed hour. The sun was beginning to dip on the horizon, the red-gold ball casting a pink and purple hue to the sky and clouds that loomed over the London towers and spire
s. Those colors caught on the water, turning the Thames an odd reddish-brown.
In the Highlands, twilight came early most of the year, but it could always be counted upon to be beautiful. The cool loch waters glistened under the fading sunlight. Here, the water was too thick with mud to shine. Instead, the sun’s rays seemed to be swallowed up in the dark murk.
A thin, little man scurried toward him as he dismounted. “Captain MacLauren, thank goodness you’re finally here. Everyone is growing impatient for your arrival.”
Thad arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize I was late.” The chimes on St. Paul’s were only now ringing to signal the eight o’clock hour.
The officious man pinched his lips tightly and tossed him a superior glance. Had he been taller than Thad, he would have been looking down his refined English nose at him. But this little weasel was short and quite full of his own self-importance. He assumed this was Mr. Beardsley, Castlereagh’s clerk. “Well, your kinsmen have been here this past hour.”
“What has it to do with me? I assume Lord Castlereagh had news he wished to discuss with them outside of my hearing.” He wasn’t surprised. Everyone had kept him in the dark, so why not Castlereagh as well?
The man led him down a seemingly endless corridor. “I thought you Scots were all about clan loyalties, even above duty to the Crown.” He gave a put-upon sigh. “Never mind, I suppose you ought to brace yourself for the battle that’s brewing. Lord Caithness and Lord Hume have worn us all out. We’ve been struggling to keep each of them from ripping the other’s throat ever since they arrived.”
Thad snorted. “They don’t like each other. They don’t like me much, either. Well, Hume doesn’t.”
“Are you certain? They’ve been fighting over you like two jungle tigers after a kill.” He glanced up at Thad once more and shook his head in dismissal. “Heathens.”
Thad might have taken offense if he weren’t so busy trying to make sense of the actions of these earls. He refused to consider the impossible…that his cousins and brother had died, leaving him heir to Caithness. Why else would these two old goats care if he was still breathing?
