by Tarah Scott
Phoebe inclined her head and murmured, “Again, my lord, aptly put.”
He burst out laughing and she groaned inwardly when the women stopped work altogether.
“Forgive me,” the earl said. “This is my doing. I received Kiernan’s note the day after the ball. I assumed he would realize his mistake, and gave it no further thought.”
“Don't blame yourself. He was the one, after all, who…detained me. How did you discover the truth?” she asked, but added before he could reply, “My uncle, has he raised a fuss?”
“Not to my knowledge. It was the letter from Kiernan asking why I hadn't come to Brahan Seer that told me of my error. It wasn’t until the ride here that I began to sort things out. Please, my dear—" his lip twitched"—I—" His body shook with silent laughter, and Phoebe scowled.
“I know,” he said. “Abominable of me.” He wiped an eye with a forefinger. “But the look you must have had on your face when you found yourself in the clutches of the Marquess of Ashlund." Phoebe gasped, and his sputters of laughter abruptly ended. “What is it—Lord.” His eyes widened with even more hilarity. “Don't tell me you didn’t know?”
“I did not.”
She recalled the shout she'd heard when the men had burst in upon Alan Hay and his men. “Lay down your weapons in the name of the Marquess of Ashlund!” She groaned and reached for the chair, then remembered it lay on the floor.
“By heavens, when it becomes known the Marquess of Ashlund held me against my will—”
“Against your will?” Winnie interjected. “You can leave any time you like.”
“He brought me here against my wishes,” Phoebe replied coldly. “The fact that he thought I was Heddy won't signify in the eyes of polite society—my God, what a mess.”
Winnie pinned Phoebe with an impatient stare. “Does anyone in England have to know what happened?”
"Good question,” Lord Stoneleigh said. "Since your family hasn't sounded the alarm, we may yet avoid a scandal."
"I'm at a loss to understand why my uncle hasn't created a fuss."
"I can't say," the earl replied. "But I heard nothing, so perhaps no one in England knows."
“Everyone here knows.” She waved her hand, indicating her surroundings.
“You needn't worry about anyone at Brahan Seer,” Winnie said. “We don't associate with English gentry.”
“There are those at the inn,” Phoebe said.
“The Glaistig Uain?” he asked. When she nodded, he said, “Is it possible to say you were visiting someone?”
“I don't know. I can't understand why my uncle hasn't searched for me.”
“I wish Kiernan hadn't left," he said. “Oh, Phoebe,” he added with genuine feeling, “this is my fault. Had I not complained to Kiernan…”
“You couldn't know that His Lordship would concoct such a ridiculous scheme. He should clear up the mess, but that is impossible.”
“True,” Lord Stoneleigh agreed. “Even if he were here, he's the last person you want to be associated with you, at this point.”
“Sir,” Phoebe said, “you have no idea.”
*****
Lord Briarden had long ago instructed her to be a lady of society. What would he think once he knew that by obeying his orders, she'd gotten herself mistaken for Lord Stoneleigh's mistress, then whisked off to the Scottish Highlands?
"You're sure you want to leave today?" Lord Stoneleigh asked as they walked along the village lane on their way to the stables.
Phoebe nodded. "I know we'll only make the Green Lady Inn, but I am anxious to reach London as soon as possible. If there is any chance I can head off a scandal, I must try."
"Of course," he said. "And once we reach the inn, I'll procure a maid to travel with us the rest of the way. It wouldn't do to escape one scandal only to be foisted by our innocent trip home."
"Thank you, my lord. I am deeply grateful."
They rounded the corner and the burnt cottages came into view.
"Good God." He stopped.
"It's beyond comprehension, isn't it? she asked.
They started forward again. “What started the fire?” He lifted his hand to shield his eyes against the afternoon sun.
“I don't know. I'm sure His Lordship will insist upon a full investigation.
“Aye,” came a deep voice from behind them, “that he will."
Phoebe turned to see a man, Kiernan's height, with the same striking build, striding toward them.
“Your Grace.” Lord Stoneleigh affected a bow.
“Regan,” he replied.
Phoebe’s mouth dropped open as His Grace, the Duke of Ashlund, shifted his attention onto her. “You’re his father,” she breathed.
“If by 'his father' you mean, the father of Kiernan MacGregor, aye, lass, I am.”
Phoebe reddened. “Forgive me, Your Grace.” She lowered into a deep curtsy. “I-it is just that I—" She rose. “Forgive me, Your Grace, I have had a trying day.”
“So I see.” He turned to survey the cottages. “I was under the impression my son had some idea what happened.”
“He sent word informing you of the fire?” she asked.
“Aye.” The duke strode to the cottage Lord Stoneleigh stood nearest. “This would have been Evvana and Logan’s cottage. Where are they staying?”
“Winnie made space for them in the castle. The couple who live in the other cottage is away.”
“In Graham country, visiting her family,” the duke said.
He went to the other cottage and stepped across the threshold with the same care Kiernan had demonstrated. His gaze moved along the ruins. “There is nothing to salvage here. Work on a new cottage will begin immediately.” He turned. “But that will be tomorrow. The day is nearly done. Shall I escort you back to Brahan Seer?”
Phoebe cast a glance at Lord Stoneleigh, then said to the duke, “We were leaving, Your Grace. I must return to England right away.”
"Surely you can spare an hour?"
"As you can see, it's growing late. We had hoped to reach the Green Lady Inn before dark."
"I spoke with Winnie, lass."
A shock reverberated through Phoebe. Winnie had informed the duke of his son’s indiscretion.
“Marcus,” interrupted a passing villager. “‘Tis been a season since we’ve seen you.”
“Aye,” he replied. “Too long. The twins keep Elise busy. She sends her regards.”
“Those rascals, eh?” The man beamed. “Are they giving you trouble?”
“Not nearly so much as my eldest son, I suspect.”
Phoebe choked back a groan.
“What has the rogue done?” the man inquired with a grin.
“That,” the duke said, “is what the lass, here, is about to explain. Would you excuse us, Wallace?”
“Aye, Marcus. We will see you later?”
The duke clasped his arm. “You will,” he said, and looked at her. "Shall we?"
Phoebe nodded and she and Lord Stoneleigh fell into step alongside him.
“Would you mind beginning with your name?" the duke asked.
“Phoebe Wallington.”
She startled when his head snapped in her direction. “Wallington?" he repeated.
"Yes, my uncle is Charles Wallington, Viscount Albery. Do you know him?”
He shook his head. "Nay. I knew a Wallington, a man in Inverness. I'm pleased you're not related to him."
Her heart suddenly pounded. "May I ask why, Your Grace?"
"The man was a cold-blooded killer." Before she could digest his answer, he said, “Why is Viscount Albery's niece visiting Brahan Seer?” She dropped her gaze, and he added, “Is it so bad that you fear telling me, Miss Wallington?”
“Your Grace, I ask that you leave the matter between me and your son.”
He looked at Lord Stoneleigh as they started up the hill. “Have you anything to say, Regan?”
“As the lady, says, Your Grace, this is between her and Lord Ashlund.”
“I can always ask Winnie.”
Phoebe inhaled sharply.
“You don't strike me as the sort of young woman who traipses about the country with men.”
“I assure you, I am not.”
“Good. So, when we arrive at Brahan Seer, I expect you both to go directly to my library. I will ask Winnie to join us.”
“Your Grace,” Phoebe said, “I beg you, leave the matter.”
“He's my son. I cannot.”
Phoebe steadied her breathing. “No need to ask Winnie to join us. She knows very little of the matter.”
“A heartening thought,” he replied as they crested the hill.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Four days travel had tired Kiernan. He entered Brahan Seer’s great hall desiring nothing more than a good meal and several scotches. He made his way through the crowd gathered for the evening meal. The last three men who stood between him and the table stepped aside and Kiernan halted upon seeing his father seated at the head of the table. He noticed Heddy sitting on his father’s left and frowned.
“Evening, Kiernan,” the duke said.
“Father,” he replied, and started forward.
His father raised a brow just as a hand clasped Kiernan's shoulder from behind.
“Well, now,” came the voice of Regan Langley.
Kiernan faced his friend. An odd light played in Regan’s eyes and Kiernan looked back at his father. “What's wrong?”
The duke only stared at him.
“Damnation, Father, what is it? Is something amiss with the twins—Elise?”
"Nay. She and the children are well."
"Heddy,” Kiernan turned to her, “I expected you and Regan to be gone. Are you ill? For God’s sake, someone tell me what's wrong.”
“What's wrong is that you are addressing the lady by the wrong name,” his father said.
Kiernan’s frown deepened. “What?”
“Her name—Phoebe Wallington.”
Kiernan yanked his attention back to her. The low drone of voices in the hall, the clatter of pans in the kitchen, all faded into the background of a silence that hung between the four of them.
“Good God,” he whispered.
“Not quite my reaction,” his father said. “But considering the lady's presence, it will do.”
“Father,” Kiernan began, but halted at the warning look on his face and turned again to Phoebe. “Heddy—”
“Phoebe,” the duke cut in sharply.
Kiernan nodded. “Phoebe—Miss Wallington, I had no idea.”
“Nay?” his father demanded. “Miss Wallington informed me she revealed her identity the night you abducted her. You are saying it's not true?”
“It's true.”
“Then do not compound your wrongs by lying.”
“I'm sorry.”
“‘Tis not me you should apologize to.” His father cocked his head in Phoebe’s direction.
Kiernan turned to her. “Miss Wallington, I am sorry.”
"That's all?” the duke demanded.
"I will, of course, make it right. I'll have an announcement immediately sent—"
"No," she interrupted. “As I told your father, things aren't as bad as they appear."
“What?” Kiernan stared.
“Lord Stoneleigh assures me my uncle hasn't acknowledged my disappearance. I have already sent word that I am well and visiting friends in the north.”
“The devil you say?” Kiernan looked at Regan, who gave a nod of confirmation, then turned back to Phoebe. “You said he would move heaven and hell for you.”
Her lips tightened. “Sir, I would not look a gift horse in the mouth. I'm offering you a way out.”
“Offering me a way out? Madam, honor dictates there is no way out.”
“My freedom for your honor?”
“I would think it would be your honor, as well." He shook his head in frustration. "I'm sorry. Get whatever notion you have of avoiding a scandal out of your head. You have no choice.”
Her eyes blazed and she faced his father. “Your Grace, I remain firm in my resolution. I will not marry your son. This is Scotland, and women here have the right to refuse any offer, no matter how fantastic it may be.”
“But you aren't Scottish,” he replied.
“We are in Scotland, therefore, Scottish law prevails.”
“But your uncle is English, and he will demand you marry.”
“Think of the life you sentence me to,” she begged. “You force me into a marriage that neither of us wants.”
Doubt flickered in his father’s eyes and Kiernan burst out, “Heddy, bloody hell!”
The din of the room quieted.
“Kiernan,” the duke admonished in a low voice.
Kiernan gave the men nearest him a glare that sent them about their business, then he stepped closer to Phoebe. He placed a hand on the back of her chair and said in a low voice, “Forgive me, Phoebe, but you mistake my surprise for reluctance.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don't act as though you are a willing groom.”
He scowled. “You know I want you.”
She gasped. Regan cleared his throat, and his father sighed.
“Don't pretend you have no idea what I'm talking about,” Kiernan muttered.
“Miss Wallington,” his father cut in, “you said my son didn't force his attentions on you.”
“Of course, I didn’t,” Kiernan retorted. But he'd come damned close, truth be told.
“You said he was a perfect gentleman.”
“I knew, er, thought she was Regan’s.” He looked at Regan and shrugged. “That didn’t stop me from—”
“Sir.” Phoebe shot to her feet and shoved at her chair with the back of her leg, but it didn’t slide and she nearly fell back into the seat. Kiernan and his father reached for her. She slapped at them, then her eyes widened on the duke.
“Your Grace,” she whispered, then added under her breath, “By heavens.”
"Phoebe,” Kiernan said, then, “love.”
“Oh no, you don’t.” This time she managed to shove the chair aside. “I am not some schoolgirl who will swoon with your charm.” She started to turn, but whipped back around and poked her finger in Kiernan’s chest, causing him to jerk back with every jab of her forefinger. “I am not your love. I wasn’t your love before, and I—ohhh—” her blazing eyes turned on his father “—and I am not your—your—anything.” She stalked to the far side of the room and disappeared up the narrow staircase.
“Interesting,” his father remarked.
“Interesting?” Kiernan scowled. “Has everyone gone mad?”
The duke regarded him. “You are a fine one to talk. Abducting a woman?”
Kiernan sat in Phoebe’s chair. “I had no idea who she was.”
His father’s mouth twisted down reprovingly.
“Yes, yes,” Kiernan said impatiently, “she told me her name, but did she tell you the circumstances?”
“I believe she explained things quite thoroughly,” Regan said.
“Did she explain she was in Heddy’s coach?”
Regan and his father nodded.
“Did she tell you she was flirting with Lord Beasley?”
His father reached for the mug of ale sitting before him. “I would be careful about mentioning that, lad.”
Kiernan stared at him.
“A future wife doesn't care for being reminded of past flirtations.”
*****
Phoebe took a sip of her morning tea just as the Duke of Ashlund stepped from the staircase into the great hall. She took another slow sip in the seconds before he reached her side, then set the cup aside and rose from her seat.
“Your Grace.” She dipped into an elegant curtsy.
He grasped her hand, lifting her to her feet. “Lass, you needn't be so formal, you will soon call me father.” He smiled. “You may begin now, if you wish.”
"You're too kind," she said, then, “Might we speak privately?”
Phoebe followed him up the stairs and down the long hallway to his library. He opened the door and motioned her in. She entered and seated herself in the chair opposite his desk as he stepped behind his desk and lowered himself into his chair.
Phoebe took a deep breath. "Your Grace, there is something about me you must know. When I was seventeen, I eloped with a man to Gretna Green."
"Seventeen is young to marry," he said.
"My uncle thought so, too, and came after us. I will be blunt. He did not arrive in time."
"In time?"
Phoebe's cheeks warmed. "You must know what I mean."
"I assume your reputation was tarnished?" he asked.
She gave a nod. "With good reason. So you see, your son can't possibly marry a woman like me."
"A woman like you?" There was no mistaking the amusement in his voice, but before she could reply, he added, "No need to worry, Miss Wallington, no one will dare impugn your reputation once you and Kiernan are married."
"Your Grace, a marquess simply does not marry a tarnished woman."
He laughed. "I think a marquess marries anyone he chooses."
"I am certain your son won't be so blasé about the situation."
"Miss Wallington, as Kiernan said last night, you have no choice."
"But society—"
"Society will likely make the Marquess and Marchioness of Ashlund their darlings," he said.
"You—you can't be serious," she breathed.
"Society thrives on just such a story as yours," he replied.
Panic swept through her. Did he really consider himself that far above society's reach? Was there nothing that would sway him, nothing he cared about? She understood all too well society's barbs. She enjoyed parties and received many invitations, but no man of rank would think of offering for her and—she abruptly recalled the Duke's reaction yesterday when he thought she was related to the Wallington he knew. By heavens, the answer was right in front of her. Why hadn't she thought of it before? The duke might think his position put him above society's rules, but even a man of his rank couldn't flout society's view on a woman whose father was wanted for high treason.
Phoebe's stomach twisted as she said, “Your Grace, there is something much more serious than a green girl's mistakes."
