by Julia Donner
“Picking at straws, are you? Oh, I say, I do like this one.”
“Ah, yes. Lawrence. He takes my breath.”
“Nonsense. You are better than he, and I defy any man to possess the ability to steal my wife’s breath. I alone am possessor of that purview.”
Scandalized for more than one reason, she admonished him with a harsh whisper, “Keep your voice down! You can’t say such things here.”
“I don’t see why not, considering my connection to Josiah Cameron. They had better be nice to me or I’ll have a word with the artist. I have influence in that quarter.” Casting off pretended arrogance, he said, “There’s your pretty smile. That’s much better, I particularly like that little chortle of yours.”
She halted and looked up. “Max, you will take me with you, won’t you?”
He covered her hand on his arm, his own larger one swallowing hers from sight. “You can be such a goose. Oh, the sights we’ll see. Italy, France and most especially Vienna and Salzburg. You will lose your heart to the hills of Pennsylvania and the Adirondacks, Canadian forests and magnificent lakes. And then we’ll come back to the Grange for a rest and hie up to Scotland. So much to see and do, and you may paint them all while I create the fastest fleet in the world.”
“Then you did buy my passage also? Please tell me you have.”
“Of course I did. I was merely pouting. Purchased another ticket on the Black Ball line first thing in London. I thought you should have a taste of our competition. After the one trip to settle affairs, we’ll only travel on one of our ships.”
“And since your ships—”
“Ours!” he corrected with firmness.
“Very well. Ours will be the fastest, breaking every new record to the Orient. Everyone will purchase passages from…but, Max, what shall you name it? Loverton Fleet?”
“I’ve decided on something simple and to the point. A and M.” When she tilted her head with a questioning frown, he explained, “Agnes and Max, of course.”
She sputtered a laugh. “Why, I’m astonished, sir. No hyperbole, no boasts or overt implication of greatness?”
And right there, in front of everyone, he kissed her on the nose, his dark eyes gleaming with an adoration that stole her breath. “As a wise man once said to your brother the first time he saw you, there is no reason for bragging when it’s obvious truth.”
She ducked her head to hide a grin. “A wise man, you say?”
“Smart enough to catch you, Josiah Cameron.”
Dear Reader, If you enjoyed, An American for Agnes, please consider writing a review. An excerpt from A Laird’s Primise follows this list of titles also written by Julia Donner, aka M.L. Rigdon.
Thanks for your friendship and continued support of this series!
Writing Historical Fiction as Julia Donner
The Friendship series
THE TIGRESSE AND THE RAVEN
THE HEIRESS AND THE SPY
THE RAKE AND THE BISHOP’S DAUGHTER
THE DUCHESS AND THE DUELIST
THE EARL AND THE RUNAWAY
THE DANDY AND THE FLIRT
LORD CARNALL AND MISS INNOCENT
THE BARBARIAN AND HIS LADY
A ROGUE FOR MISS PRIM
AN AMERICAN FOR AGNES
A LAIRD’S PROMISE (Auntumn 2017)
Writing as M.L.Rigdon
Fantasy
Seasons of Time trilogy
PROPHECY DENIED
BEYOND THE DARK MOUNTAINS
HER QUEST FOR THE LANCE
Contemporary
THE ATLANTIS CRYSTAL (A Philadelphia Hafeldt novel)
SEDUCTIVE MINES (Another Philadelphia Hafeldt adventure)
NEVER LET ME DIE (Romantic suspense with paranormal elements)
YA Fantasy
Songs of Atlantis series
THE VITAL
MASTER OF THE DARK
CANTICLE OF DESTRUCTION
DRAGONAIR
A LAIRD’S PROMISE
Friendship Series Book 11
London, England
Spring 1820
Chapter 1
Alisdair Gordon, Lorrd Barrie of Loch Muraith, had developed a penchant for tweaking the nose of everyone he met. He accomplished this by immediately setting them on the defensive. Just for fun, mind you, since there was nothing wrong with trying to keep one’s place on higher ground. A good idea, that, since he was about to confront a bad-tempered bear in its cave. This particular beast, the Earl of Bainbridge, had an even tetchier sibling.
This sunny day in May, he strolled out of Hyde Park and across to Upper Brook Street, taking a chance that the earl and his family had already arrived in London in preparation for the Little Season. Word had gotten around that Bainbridge was bringing his unmarried sister to town. The lass was said to be so stunning that unmarried gentlemen of acceptable lineage considered working up the courage to approach the girl’s prickly brother. Perhaps prickly wasn’t the best descriptor. Adjectives like surly, hostile and terrifying were more often used. A knowledge universally accepted was that the Earl of Bainbridge loved to fight and leapt onto any opportunity to do so.
Alisdair had no complaint against that propensity. There was nothing wrong with indulging in a dust-up now and then. Kept the juices flowing and joints greased. The problem was that Bainbridge had no qualms about turning it into a lethal affair. Men tended not to provoke him for that very reason.
The knocker was on the door when he found the house on South Audley Street. The major domo took Alisdair’s card, was told that Lady Bainbridge, the dowager, and Lady Caroline were not at home, but that his lordship was in residence and would be informed. His hat, gloves and cane taken, he was escorted to a drawing room and asked to wait.
There was a charming view of the park down the road, the movements of pedestrians and traffic on the street, plenty to watch while he waited and sorted through what he planned to say. Again, he considered employing his proclivity for poking a bit of fun, although irritating the beast that Bainbridge was purported to be when riled was probably not wise. But then, Alisdair had never thought of himself as particularly wise.
Time to set the stage. He kept his back to the door so that the first thing that Bainbridge would see was a silver-haired gentleman, barrel-chested but not stocky, the back view of an older man well-set up for his years. The upset for Bainbridge would come when Alisdair turned around and revealed that he was twenty years younger than his head of hair. In that first, startled moment, the earl would feel unbalanced. Alisdair would encourage the preoccupation with the rarity of silver hair topping a younger man’s head. It could provide enough of a distraction that Bainbridge might not decide to mangle him on the spot for what Alisdair was there to do.
The door latch clicked, hinges squeaking a bit as it opened. A bristling, brute of a man stepped through. Bainbridge paused just beyond the open door. Dressed plainly like a country squire, the earl had dark auburn hair and a couple of stone and inches on Alisdair, whose height was considered above average. The hostile glare from the earl’s smoky-blue eyes had Alisdair revising his earlier opinion about there being nothing wrong with a friendly brawl. Instinctive preservation screamed that this man took fighting seriously.
He’d best put a happy face on it for a pleasant, second impression. “Thank you for seeing me, Bainbridge. You have my card.”
“I do. Let us not waste time with pleasantries. What is your purpose here?”
Alisdair lifted his eyebrows. Well, that was succinct enough. Best to get on with it.
“Indulge me, sir, in a brief tale. I encountered a girl in a not unusual way. Whilst enjoying an ale with friends, I spied a emarkably handsomest lass. Black hair, violet-eyed and proud. Strength declared in the cleft of her upraised chin. A bit on the cuppy side, I took brash advantage and swung an arm around her waist. She let me know right off that familiarity of any sort wasn’t to be tolerated. Bashed me one on the nose, she did, and stood toe-to-toe to give me more of what I deserved
. I’m here to make amends and will speak with her and this must be done in private.”
The earl narrowed his eyes but thankfully didn’t leap. “You describe someone who looks vaguely like my sister, but that gives you no leave to address her. I have no idea of your background, no reason to trust you to speak with her in private.”
Taking a risk, Alisdair jauntily replied, “Perhaps I should attest to the opinion that I could say the same of you.”
Bainbridge pondered that remark instead of taking insult. It appeared the man had a finer sense of curiosity than he did of discrimination, but his scowling assessment lasted only a few moments.
“See here, Barrie, I’m a married man and not inclined to trifle with other women, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
“No, sir, I would never dare to accuse you of muslin-chasing. Most especially since we’ve never been properly introduced. For my part, I am not in agreement with the philandering activities of the gentlemen of our station and deplore such behavior.”
Bainbridge accepted the round-about compliment with a harrumph and a nod, but being the belligerent fellow that he was, went right back to his original question. “Then what is your business here? You have no right to be demanding anything of me or my sister.”
“Ah, sir, but sadly, I do. It is apparent that the minx neglected to inform you of a pertinent fact before you whisked her away to this land of the Sassenach. I seek to inform you, and with a quixotic mixture of regret and joy, that I have come here today to collect my wife and take her home.”
Chapter 2
The strained silence that followed Alisdair’s revelation was broken by muffled voices rising up from the vestibule below. The earl’s pause to unravel the combination of consternation and disbelief encouraged Alisdair to think that he might live another day. Then Bainbridge’s expression of lax astonishment quickly solidified into strong emotion. He became the incarnation of fury on the brink of eruption.
After inhaling a deep breath, Bainbridge shouted, “Caro, get in here!”
Alisdair’s heart began a thumping rhythm. He’d thought himself prepared, but wasn’t when she came through. He had to forcefully order his lungs to keep breathing. Lady Caroline was more of everything in every way from what he remembered. Tall and arrogant, she strode into the drawing room, paying attention to stripping off her gloves. An unadorned chip-straw bonnet covered hair blacker than the night, so dark it had a bluish sheen. Like her brother, she had no interest in style, which showed in a dated round gown and sadly worn half-boots. A sun-lover, her skin glowed with an unfashionable tan that softened a belligerent jaw line and cleft chin. She rippled with a vitality that gave warning she was no miss to trifle with or summarily discount. Damn, but he had forgotten her effect on him and this was no time for a flimsy backbone. Now there were two carnivores in the room.
Shifting her attention from her gloves, Caroline looked up at her brother with an expression of profound indifference. “Stop bellowing like a wounded boar, Geoffrey. What is it?”
She followed her brother’s glance to the visitor and her complexion paled under its golden tint. Then that fast, color flushed up, brightening her cheeks with flaming outrage. “What the devil are you doing here?”
Alisdair grinned and swept a flourishing bow. “Tis grand ta see ma bonnie wife. Come give us a kiss, lass.”
Crackling with intent, she came at him, fist up, from across the room. He ducked the swing and stepped back. Not the best of beginnings.
Bainbridge got an arm around his sister’s waist and lifted her off her feet. “Stubble it, Caroline. Mother and Letty will be here any moment. Don’t upset them. Will you stay put if I set you down?”
Bainbridge held her propped on his hip like a child. Frustrated but silent, she hung from her brother’s clasp. Her glare glittered vengeance, but she agreed with a sharp nod.
After setting her down, Bainbridge kept a staying hand on his sister’s shoulder, as he quietly warned with a potent glare, “Barrie, I don’t want my wife and mother overset. Is this something we can discuss at a later time when we’re all of a calmer disposition?”
Alisdair studied Caroline’s aggravated stance with a wary eye and rubbed the side of his nose. “T’would be best. Ya ken our lass has a bit of a temper.”
Lowering her voice to a vilifying hiss, his lass whispered, “Will you stop using that stupid brogue! You were schooled at Eton and Oxford.”
He winked, just to see how far she could be pushed. She swallowed whatever she was about to retort when two ladies entered. They’d already removed their outerwear and wore pleasing expressions of expectation, which bloomed into outright delight when they realized they had a visitor.
Caroline had inherited her mother’s beauty and father’s height. The dowager was accompanied by a female who looked nothing like the Bainbridge family. Short, plump and titian-haired, Lady Bainbridge possessed an astounding talent. When she went to her husband and touched the earl’s arm, the sullen beast melted into a lump of placid acquiescence, as harmless as a puddle of melted wax.
Alisdair stared, astonished by the transformation, until Caroline’s mother exclaimed, “Lord Barrie, how delightful to see you again! How was your journey to Italy? You must tell us your impressions.”
Bainbridge’s softened state reactivated enough to inquire to with misgiving, “You know this man, Mother?”
“Certainly. We’ve known him forever. His estate connects with my cousin’s.”
“And did you know that your daughter married him?”
The dowager’s astounded expression and sudden intake of air revealed that she hadn’t. She directed a worried and wounded gaze at her now shamefaced daughter. “Caro, what is this?”
As quarrelsome as her brother, Caroline defensively shot back, “I’m of age and can do as I please. You insisted that we leave and made me come down here, and now I have to put up with that insolent oaf thinking he owns me.”
Blundering bear that he was, Bainbridge glowered at his sister and demanded, “Are you still a maiden?”
“Geoffrey!” three scandalized women cried at once.
Bainbridge ignored them and squinted menace directly at Alisdair, who shrugged and said, “Her word against mine. Or we can address the truth by way of a physician”
That let the cat out of bag. Caroline shrieked, “We’re not married, you idiot!”
The earl argued in a tone much like a growl, “Caro, if this man has a legal claim, there will be no wrangling the issue. We’re not going to air our family linen in court.”
Sounding desperate, Caroline wailed at her brother, “But I never said any vows in church, Geoffrey!”
Bainbridge snorted and shook his head. “In Scotland you don’t have to and you should have known, having been born there.”
Alisdair lifted a finger in the air to insert a correction. “Ah, excuse me, Bainbridge, but considering that we’re hand-fasted, it would be more proper to address her as Lady Barrie.”
Caroline whirled around to shout, “Blast you, Alisdair, keep quiet!”
Before she could continue, the lady with the magical touch gently interrupted, “Forgive my husband’s poor manners, Lord Barrie. I should take this opportunity to introduce myself. I am Leticia, his wife. Perhaps we should take a moment to settle our tempers. Will you stay for tea, sir? I should adore hearing about your travels.”
Alisdair grinned, admiring how smoothly she had deescalated the brewing bloodbath. Her quiet cheerfulness immediately smoothed raised hackles. Extraordinary woman.
“How kind of you to ask, Lady Bainbridge.”
He congratulated himself on being smart enough not to avail himself of her hand to bow over, as was usually done. Considering her proximity to Bainbridge’s possessive stance, he might well come away dismembered.
There ensued the oddest visitation he’d ever experienced. The earl sat like a glowering mountain while munching biscuits. His stare never wavered, examining Alisdair’s every move with suspi
cion.
Caroline ate nothing, declined tea and meaningfully glared a decided goal for retribution. Instead of finding her visual threats off-putting, Alisdair had to constantly remind himself to not find her vehemence horribly alluring. What was wrong with him that he persisted with this fascination for a female who showed intentions of gutting him at the earliest opportunity? And what could be done about the underlying tension threatening to snap and create a breach for unpleasantness to come pouring out into the room’s light of day.
Their interactions were so typical of his class. Never acknowledge the unseemly or socially unacceptable. One must strenuously pretend that nothing is wrong. Ignore the bomb in the corner about to explode. Unfortunately, there was a rather large bug under the rug that wasn’t about to evaporate. The tension was so conspicuous that he wasn’t sure how long he could suppress a wild urge to laugh out loud at the way they refused to accept what he was there to do. And do it, he would—even if it cost him bodily injury.
But he didn’t want to distress Caroline’s mother. The dowager countess was unchanged, as sweet-natured as her daughter was tart. She smiled and listened with flattering attention to his descriptions of Tuscan landscapes. The earl’s brightly inquisitive wife encouraged the topic, asking questions about Italy that proved her to be in possession of cunning intelligence and lively wit.
It took all of Alisdair’s concentration not to think about how he was going to tame the wildcat with the death threat glittering in her vivid blue eyes. It was his own fault for falling in love with the wench. To be fair, she had some cause for irritation. And why, when she thought he wasn’t paying attention, was there a flash of fear in her eyes?
To distract him from her daughter’s ridiculous behavior, the dowager asked him about Muraith. He liked Caroline’s mother even more since the last time they’d been in company in Scotland. Moving south to live with her son had erased a vague but perpetual aura of sorrow. Earlier, when she’d come into the drawing room, she’d radiated happiness, and he’d been so pleased to see the alteration. After hearing about her daughter’s secret, worry faded that glow, but she strove to hide it behind her easy charm, the opposite of her churlish-acting daughter.
