by Amy Jarecki
“I ken, but you haven’t been at the Banqueting House for a meal in three nights.”
“No…” She pulled him aside. “I’ve been trying to avoid drawing attention to myself.”
“You and Lord Aiden.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“His Lordship hasn’t been at the Banqueting House, either, m’lady.” He looked both ways. “People are starting to talk.”
She’d been in London for nearly a week, and she’d heard more gossip than she had in all of her days. “Sadly, that does not surprise me.” She gave the earl a once-over. “Why have you been so anxious to find me? Have there been developments regarding my father?”
He handed her the parchment with a prideful grin. “Indeed. I have taken it upon myself to personally visit every member of the House of Lords who supports the Tory Party.”
“Are they Jacobites?”
He quickly glanced over his shoulder and pulled her aside. “Wheesht—you must never use that word here. Those who lean that way refer to the cause, and I must advise you to do so as well.”
“Very well. Are the Tories sympathetic to the cause?”
“Some are—but not all, though you’ll never find anyone sympathetic to the cause in the Whig Party.”
“Whigs and Tories? ’Tis as if you’re speaking French. Why does this matter to my father’s plea for clemency?”
“Because the queen has been subject to Whig plots to oust her.”
“Oust?”
“Assassinate her and put her Hanover cousin, George, on the throne.”
“Heavens! It seems everyone has an agenda.”
“They do indeed.” Seaforth pointed to the missive. “Support from the Tories is exactly what we need. With the Whigs out of favor, Anne leans toward the Tory Party even though there are more Roman Catholics in the membership.”
“She fears Roman Catholics?”
“Popery,” he whispered.
“I shall keep that in mind on the morrow when I am playing my harp.” Maddie gave him a quizzical look. “This makes no sense to me. Why would the queen of England, Scotland, and Ireland fear the pope?”
“Because for Catholics God’s law takes precedence over the law of the ruling class. You ken, King Henry VIII and his wives and all that.”
“Aye, but that was an awfully long time ago.” She shook the parchment. “So, Tory-siding lords have signed this document, and you reckon it will persuade the queen to give my da a pardon?”
“Aye.”
She unfolded it and started reading.
“To paraphrase, ’tis a roundabout way of saying that as the Earl Marischal of Scotland, your da would have been remiss in his responsibilities if he hadn’t taken his army to Edinburgh to meet Prince James. And that if said prince were to set foot ashore with intent to do harm to the inhabitants of Scotland or to his sovereign, then the Earl Marischal would have been in a position to act swiftly—as would the other lords now incarcerated in Edinburgh Castle.”
“That is brilliant.” She lowered her gaze. “And look at all those signatures.”
“Twenty-three in total. I believe this document gives the queen the fodder she needs to pardon all those arrested.” Lord Seaforth cringed. “Besides, where would she be if she executed half the gentry in Scotland?”
“She’d have a civil war on her hands for certain.” Maddie folded the missive and handed it back to him. “Do you honestly think it will work?”
“If it doesn’t, then I fear for the queen. This war with France and the one in the Americas is bleeding Britain dry. She can ill afford a war on her own soil.”
She clapped her hands over her soaring heart. “Och, Lord Aiden will be thrilled to hear the news.”
Seaforth’s face fell. “Murray? You rather like him, do you not?”
Maddie averted her face as her cheeks sizzled. If she wasn’t careful, she’d give herself away. “He has been very kind to me.”
“’Tis a shame.”
“Why?”
“He’ll be off to sea soon.”
“Do not remind me.”
“And I…” He glanced away.
“What is it?”
“I’d hoped now that I’ve found a way to free your father you might look favorably on me.”
She knitted her brows. “But you’re an earl.”
He grinned, making his hard features appear particularly boyish. “You’ve noticed.”
“Are you not supposed to find a legitimately bred daughter of a peer to court?”
He shrugged. “I decided a long time ago I wouldn’t court or marry for titles.”
“A long time ago? You speak as if you’re a man of thirty.”
After inhaling deeply, he groaned. “Truth be told, I’d much rather be at Brahan Castle with my clan. The queen is bloody grooming me to be one of her staunch supporters in the Highlands.”
“You do not sound overly enthused to be receiving the queen’s royal treatment.”
“Let us just say she has done nothing to change my loyalty to the cause. I’ll be happy after the next session of Parliament. I’ve been granted leave to head for home.”
“When do you plan to give her the missive?”
“The Earl of Mar and I are scheduled to meet with Her Majesty on the morrow.”
“Oh, I do hope this works.” Maddie grasped his hand between her palms and squeezed. “Thank you. From the bottom of my heart I thank you. For the first time since I arrived in London, I actually feel like something is being accomplished. I owe you a debt of gratitude.”
Seaforth gave a sober nod. “The Tories will need your father when Parliament resumes next month. Let us pray it works.”
When Aiden appeared at the far end of the courtyard, she waved, scarcely able to wait to tell him the news. But she slowed her pace when Lady Saxonhurst strode straight up to His Lordship, took his hands, and drew them straight to the tops of her bosoms. No more immodest a greeting had ever been given between mere acquaintances. Good heavens, Maddie hadn’t paid much attention to the countess while she was playing her harp earlier, but the woman’s bodice plunged scandalously low. Who could help but stare? If the woman took in a deep breath, she’d pop out for certain. Worse, she shamelessly rubbed the quite ample exposed flesh against the backs of Aiden’s hands while she threw her head back and laughed.
The cackle resounded through the courtyard as the two couples moved closer to each other, Aiden’s gaze unmistakably focused on the countess’s cleavage.
“Are you all right?” asked Lord Seaforth, inclining his lips to Maddie’s ear.
“Perfectly well,” she said as she pulled him ahead. “Why are you asking now?”
“Because you’re gripping my arm like you’re strangling a chicken.”
She quickly drew her hand away. “Apologies.”
He chuckled. “Not that I didn’t enjoy it, m’lady.”
Now closer, Aiden looked from Maddie to Seaforth and scowled.
“Isn’t it precious?” said Lady Saxonhurst. “Lady Magdalen and Lord Seaforth look so well suited, wouldn’t you say, Lord Aiden?” The woman had the gall to push herself against Aiden’s arm so that her bosoms smooshed together. Holy hexes, even Lord Seaforth gaped.
Maddie reached for Aiden’s hand. “I have wonderful news.”
Seaforth tugged on her elbow. “Mayhap this isn’t the best time to share it.”
“Why?” the countess asked. “Have you secrets? I dearly love secrets.”
“Then they’d no longer be surreptitious.” Shrugging from Lady Saxonhurst’s grasp, Aiden pushed between Maddie and the earl, folding his arms. “Have you had a good spar as of late, Seaforth? I fear I’m growing a wee bit soft during my leave.”
“Oh yes, I love to watch a good sparring session.” The countess clapped her hands, fortunately forgetting about the news.
Though Maddie knew Aiden to be hewn of pure muscle, Reid MacKenzie was stocky and solid, and by no means looked like one with whom to trifle. She ca
ught Aiden’s eye and shook her head.
“Looking for a hiding, are you?” Lord Seaforth snorted, then wrapped his thick fingers around Aiden’s upper arm. “Och, so you’re concealing a set of cannons under all that velvet and lace.”
Aiden drew his arm away, looking down at his opponent, who stood shorter, but only by an inch or two. “You have no idea what it’s like to be the second son of a duke.”
“Aye? But I ken what it’s like to lose my da and become earl and laird afore my eighteenth birthday.” Seaforth smoothed his palm over the hilt of the sword at his hip. “A wee sparring session would be welcomed. But let us keep it away from prying eyes. The Privy Garden in a half hour?”
“Agreed.” Aiden bowed. “I am looking forward to it.”
Maddie hastened after Aiden as he left to fetch his weapons. “Surely you do not mean to harm poor Lord Seaforth.”
“Harm? Have you looked at the lad? He’s the size of a behemoth.”
“Have you looked at yourself of late? You’re enormous, taller, and three years his senior.”
Aiden gave her a sideways glance before he stepped into the stairwell. “’Tis just a sparring session, Maddie.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I aim to teach him a lesson about what happens when anyone touches you.”
“Me? Am I the cause of this? What on earth did I do to spur you to such jealousy?”
“I saw you with Seaforth as soon as I entered the courtyard. He had his hands all over you.”
“What?” Her mind flashed back. “No, he did not. He grasped my arm. He was simply excited about his plan to convince the queen to release my father.”
“That’s what you think.”
“Pardon me? Your jealousy is completely misplaced.” Well, not entirely, but Maddie wasn’t about to say the earl had hinted toward his affection—and besides, Maddie had discouraged him. “He told me about gaining the support of the Tory Party and the fact that Queen Anne would risk civil war if she convicts my father and the other nobles of treason.”
“It matters not what he said.” After pushing through the door he stopped outside the drawing room with his fists on his hips. “It was the way he was looking at you that set my blood to boiling.”
She hastened to follow him into the passageway. “Oh please. He kens I’m enamored with you.”
“Aye? Well, I reckon he needs to know I’m no milksop. I might not be an earl, but I’m still a man. A commander in the Royal Navy, and I’ve a fine future ahead of me. Just because my brother stands to inherit doesn’t mean I will not make something of my life.”
She threw her hands out. “Was that ever in question?”
After pushing through the door to the Atholl apartments and striding into the drawing room, he whipped around and faced her, his green eyes practically boring through her skull. “It is always in question.”
Maddie jammed her fists into her hips. “Och aye, just like owning up to being a bastard, I’d reckon.”
With a grunt he dropped his chin to his chest. “I’m sorry.” Sauntering forward, he reached out and twisted one of her curls around his finger—as if making a peace offering. “It seems we both are children born of nobles. Children who must find their own paths.”
“At least you’re legitimate. Though Da has always seen to my maintenance, I haven’t been allowed to partake in family gatherings since the age of seven. Imagine how that injures a lassie’s pride.”
His hand slipped to her waist. “Then we both work hard because we’ve something to prove to all of Christendom.”
“I beg your pardon, Lord Aiden, but I must ask you to remove your hand from Lady Magdalen this instant.” Miss Agnes marched into the drawing room with fists clenched as if she were about to give Aiden a hiding.
Maddie leaped backward, her stomach squeezing. She’d rather be caught by just about anyone other than Agnes.
“Forgive me.” Aiden’s face turned red as an apple. “I must have lost my head. So sorry.”
The lass could have burst out laughing. Thank heavens Agnes was unaware of how much touching they’d been doing behind closed doors.
“Do not apologize to me.” Agnes grasped Maddie’s hands. “Are you all right, dear?”
“Aye. You caught us at an awkward moment. We were discussing the problems with being noninheriting children of noblemen and found that our lots in life are really quite similar.”
Agnes narrowed her eyes and looked between them. “Well, I do not want such a flagrant misstep to happen again.” She shook her finger at Aiden. “I may be a lowborn servant, but I have been tasked with the duty to protect this lassie, and my authority has been expressly granted by His Lordship the Earl Marischal.”
“Yes, m’lady. It shan’t happen again.” Aiden bowed, looking directly at Maddie. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I cannot be late to my sparring session with the Earl of Seaforth. After all, I am the challenger.”
Maddie watched him stride out the door with prickles firing across her skin. What on earth did he mean, “It shan’t happen again”? It had better happen again. She’d die if he spent the rest of his leave ignoring her.
She hastened after him.
Agnes caught her arm. “Where are you off to now?”
“To watch them spar, of course. I was there when they agreed to the challenge.”
The woman gaped like a worried hen. “But you could be hurt.”
“I promise to keep my distance. I assure you Lady Saxonhurst will be in attendance.”
“The countess?” Agnes strengthened her grasp and tugged Maddie to the door. “Then you must go. We do not want that courtier gaining favor with our Lord Aiden, now do we?”
Maddie coughed out a snort. “But you just chided him for impropriety.”
“Aye, but that doesn’t mean I do not like the lad. A strapping young man like Lord Aiden just needs to be reminded of his manners from time to time.”
“I’m glad you like him.” Maddie stopped. “Afore I go, I need to tell you that Lord Seaforth has had a petition signed by the Tory Party for Da’s release. He thinks the queen will honor it.”
A flicker sparkled in Agnes’s eyes. “Och, ’tis music to my ears.”
“I thought the news would make you happy. I must pay another visit to the Tower on the morrow to tell Da.”
Agnes drew her hands over her heart. “I do hope we’ll be heading home soon.”
A lead ball dropped in Maddie’s stomach. She hadn’t thought much past the next sennight. What if Aiden sailed away and she headed back to Stonehaven, never to see him again?
Chapter Thirteen
When Maddie arrived at the Privy Garden, Lady Saxonhurst was already there with a dozen or so other ladies who had come to watch the spectacle. Fortunately, they were sitting on benches at the far side of the garden. Maddie saw no reason to join them.
Stripped down to their linen shirts, the opponents circled, both wielding basket-hilted swords.
“Come,” Aiden growled, his gaze honed like a hawk’s. “Show us what you’re made of, Your Lordship.”
With a resounding bellow, Lord Seaforth barreled in, swinging his weapon over his head, baring his teeth, and by no means looking as if he was participating in a friendly contest. Aiden moved like a cat as he backed up, defending against the onslaught of hacking strikes.
When she blinked, somehow the tide had changed. Aiden grasped Seaforth’s arm, spun him around, and angled the point of his sword at the young man’s neck. “You’re better than I expected.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” boasted the earl. How could he be so self-assured, given the blade held to his throat?
But when Aiden released him, they crouched and again circled. Seaforth lunged for the second time, and their swords clashed with earsplitting clangs. Just when Maddie was sure Seaforth would gain the upper hand, Aiden stopped him short.
On and on it went, with plenty of grunting and sweating.
When they stopped to r
emove their shirts, the ladies-in-waiting applauded and gasped, whispering behind their fans and making googly eyes. Indeed, both men were astonishing specimens of masculinity, enough to make any maiden swoon.
Maddie pursed her lips, not at all pleased with the ladies’ flagrant adoration. Aiden’s physique was for her eyes alone.
Lady Saxonhurst strolled over to Maddie. “Why is it every time I see Lord Aiden, you are nearby?”
They’d asked the master of the guard to keep mum about her staying in Atholl’s apartments, though the longer Maddie continued to accept the House of Atholl’s generosity, the more likely word was to leak out—especially as missives and harps arrived in the drawing room. “He and Lord Seaforth have been invaluable in helping me prove my father’s innocence.”
The countess harrumphed. “Well, you’d best not set your sights on Murray. He’s a sailor, after all, and what with the war, his ship is likely to be sunk by one of those evil French galleons.”
There it came again. A conjuring of the future that made Maddie’s bones shudder. “How can you speak so nonchalantly about the fate of Commander Murray’s ship?”
Saxonhurst tipped a shoulder toward her ear. “We all die, my dear. ’Tis just a matter of when.”
Maddie studied the woman. Mercy, the countess was unduly blasé. “How, pray tell, did you lose your husband?”
“Consumption.”
“Oh my. I am sorry.”
“He was twenty years my senior…” The lady’s voice trailed off.
Maddie didn’t want to pry, but she suspected becoming a widow hadn’t been entirely disagreeable for the countess. She returned her attention to Aiden, who was now showing a great deal of finesse, spinning, lunging, and wielding his blade while Seaforth clearly tired. “Well.” She sniffed, straightening her Scottish spine. “If Lord Aiden’s ability in the sparring ring is any indication, I’d place a wager in favor of his surviving the war.”
“Oh, you are quaint. Is that how they breed bastards up in the far north?”
Unable to help herself, Maddie tsked. “Bastard or nay, I’d say Highland lassies look to the future with a fair bit more faith.”
