by Hilly Mason
She eyed it; her eyebrows arched high on her forehead. Curiosity must have won her over, for she walked down the steps and snatched the letter from his hands. She unfolded it, her eyebrows furrowed as she read.
She didn’t know how to read at the orphanage, Jack thought. That was one of things we would tease her about. But she seems to have no trouble now. Who taught her? What has she been doing for the past fifteen years?
Yet he could not summon the words to let her know who he was.
Her eyebrows were still furrowed when she looked up at him. Some of the skepticism was gone and was replaced by something that looked like hope. “The Murrays? The name doesna sound familiar.”
“They said that you must’ve lost your memories; and that you ran away from home and someone placed you into an orphanage.”
“It’s common knowledge that I’ve lived in an orphanage,” Isla said mildly. She handed him the letter. “You’re going to have to try harder than that.”
She was right. Jack racked his brain, trying to think of something that would persuade her. If he can’t get this woman to come with him back to Philadelphia, Milton would surely be hanged. Suddenly, he remembered Isla watching the lion at the Tower Menagerie. What did that placard say the lion’s name was? Golden?
“They’re opening up a menagerie in Philadelphia. The Murrays have purchased some animals from the Tower of London to showcase there. They want you to be part of their performance shows.”
Something changed in Isla’s eyes. “All right,” she said warily. “I’m listening.”
Chapter Three
Lord Jackson Craig was a peculiar man.
He reminded her of a nervous rabbit, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice, yet she could tell that he was much stronger than what he was letting on.
She was still aggravated by the fight. She hated an easy win like that. It wasn’t a real fight until blood was shed, only a waste of her time.
“Can we go somewhere else to talk?” Craig asked her.
“Aye, sure.” She nodded her head towards the door towards the gaming hell.
Craig looked uneasy. “I’d rather not go back in to a place where everyone will ridicule me.”
“Is your pride that weak?” She lifted a brow and pursed her lips. “We’ll go to a private room then.”
He followed her back into the Green Room where she led him to a side room away the partiers who chose to stay after the prizefights. The room was small, with just a sofa and a few chairs surrounding a card table underneath a brightly lit chandelier. Two large windows showcased the dark streets of London, and as Isla pulled the curtains over the windows, a servant poked her head in.
“Would you like a drink, Miss Isla?”
“Brandy for me.” Isla then stared pointedly at the man.
“Ah, me too,” Craig said.
They had just settled into the chairs as the servant came in with a bottle of brandy and two glasses. Isla took the bottle first and poured herself a drink before filling Craig’s glass. She gulped her drink down fast and poured herself another one before Craig had a chance to sip his.
“Can ye tell I spend more time with men than women?” she asked, and then, surprisingly, blushed. “Not in the way you’re thinking, of course.”
“Of course.”
Isla swallowed and set down her glass. “Ye never fully answered my question from earlier. Who are ye, and how are ye associated with the Murrays?”
“I’m Lord Jackson Craig from Berkshire. I was living in America and worked with the Murrays for a while when they were in the fur trade industry. I am now their bodyguard. Fur trading has become more or less defunct so they weighed several other money making options and decided on the entertainment industry. They read in the newspaper about your uh… notoriety in London and recognized you as their long-lost daughter.”
Isla leaned back in her chair, regarding him coolly. “If they are really my parents, why did they leave me in that horrible place?” Isla asked, referring to the orphanage, Cameron. To her horror, tears began forming in her eyes. She hated that orphanage so much that she had escaped, finding herself in a small Scottish town of Ciarach, raised by an old housemaid, Lisabeth, and the Lord and Lady of Alban. At ten-years-old she was sent to Ramsbury House to be educated by Lady Sophia St. George.
Isla couldn’t remember her life before the orphanage. It was as though someone had taken that page out of her life and burned it. Did Lord Craig really tell the truth? Were her parents really trying to find her? And in America, of all places?
To her annoyance, the tears weren’t stopping. Jack was staring at her. What was he thinking? That she was like all other women, quick to tears?
He surprised her by fishing out a handkerchief from his pocket and handing it to her.
“I’m fine,” she said.
He shrugged and tucked it back into his coat.
Isla rubbed her tears away with the back of her hand and sniffled. “What are their names?”
“Amanda and Jim Murray.”
“Their names do not sound familiar. But then again, I don’t remember anything from before the orphanage.” She then scowled at him. “Sometimes I wish that I couldn’t remember the nasty things the boys from Cameron said to me. They were such bullies. If only they could see me now… I’m sure they would be frightened of me!”
Craig stood up abruptly. “Well, if you agree to come with me to America…”
Isla wiped her eyes quickly and waved her hand. “For God’s sake, I still have questions. Don’t leave just yet.”
Craig sat back down, obviously not wanting to and looking terribly uncomfortable. But she was used to making men uncomfortable and wasn’t the least bit bothered by it.
“Why are my alleged parents in America? And if they want me so badly, why not come here and get me themselves?”
“They are busy people. “
“Oh, sure.” She eyed the man skeptically and took another sip of her brandy. The entire thing seemed so convenient, yet there was a part of her that remained hopeful. “How long until I have to decide?”
“I need to buy your ticket to Philadelphia tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow, huh?” she mused. She had grown increasingly disenchanted by London as of late, and everything reminded her of Patrick. Also, the prizefights weren’t what they were used to be. She no longer felt the same exhilaration she did when she first went on stage years ago. She felt like she needed more out of life. Or perhaps she just needed different scenery.
Was she actually considering leaving London? Her heart began to flutter with excitement.
“Meet me by the menagerie tomorrow morning at eight,” Isla told him. “I’ll give ye an answer then.”
Craig stood up and nodded to her. After one last sip of his drink he left the room. Isla noticed with amusement how he took the back exit so as not to be seen by the patrons of the gaming hell.
What if he was telling the truth? She’d always wanted to know what had happened in her life that made her end up in the orphanage. Isla assumed that she had some sort of amnesia, like the Lady of Alban Diana MacNevin’s father, who had hit his head and almost drowned after a carriage accident.
What did she have to lose? If they weren’t her parents, it would still be a journey of a lifetime.
The next morning Lord Craig found her at the same spot, watching Golden. One of the servants had thrown a deer carcass into the enclosure and the lion was hungrily gnawing at the bones.
Craig walked up to Isla, his body casting a shadow over hers. She turned to look up at him and was startled by how quickly her heart beat at his close proximity.
“You’ve decided?” he asked mildly, as though he did not care one way or the other.
“Aye, I’ve decided to come with ye.”
His face remained impassive for the most part, but she could detect the relief in his brown eyes.
“Well, that’s good. I’ve already bought the tickets.”
“Tickets? Who else is
going with me?”
“Me?”
“You?”
“I’m to be your chaperone.”
“I don’t need a chaperone.”
Craig crossed his arms and lifted his chin, giving her a look like she was just a wee lass. She hated that look. Sophia had given it to her one too many times.
“There are men on that ship who would not hesitate to dishonor a woman,” he told her.
Isla scoffed. “Just so ye ken, I’ve been living successfully on my own in London for three years now.”
Craig shrugged. “So?”
“So, I can take care of myself.”
“Those black eyes of yours tell me otherwise.”
“I should box your ears for that.”
A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. “So, you gonna come with me, or no?”
Isla turned her back on him, hands on her hips. The back of her neck grew warm as she felt his gaze on her. Her fingers dug deeply into the fabric of her trousers. Why was this person making her feel so nervous—and a man, no less!
Suddenly, like a strong gust of wind had blown through, she turned around. She looked at him straight in the eye.
“Aye,” Isla relented. “I’ll come with ye.”
This time she did not miss the relieved look on his face. Why did her coming to America matter so deeply to him? He must be getting a decent sum of money if he was so invested in her.
“But I need to run it by Lady St. George first,” she told him. “I can’t just leave London without telling a soul, especially after all the St. Georges have done for me.”
“Do what you need to do. We leave next week.”
“Next week? Christ! That gives me barely enough time so say my goodbyes…”
“I did not come up with the schedule.”
Isla narrowed her eyes at him, her temper flaring. “Of course not. You seem like the kind of man who blindly follows the orders of someone else. Never doing anything for yourself. Am I not too far off?”
She was surprised to see his face contort with anger. Aye, so the man had emotions after all!
“You know nothing about me,” he told her darkly.
Isla took a deep breath to cool her unwarranted temper. And ye wonder why ye don’t have many friends, Isla thought. Ye just push them all away with your arrogance
“If you need something from me before we leave next Friday,” Lord Craig continued, his voice suddenly impassive. “I’m staying at the Toad and Fox.”
As Craig turned to leave, Isla bit her lip. Was she really going along with this? Was she really going to be leaving everything behind in London? It was not like the journey between London and Philadelphia was a quick jaunt. What if she never saw Sophia, Diana, or Lisabeth again?
She was almost as apprehensive as she was when she was ten, when she left Scotland for the first time. But she was not a lass anymore. She was well into adulthood. It was about time to stop worrying about the what ifs, and start doing what her heart was begging her to do.
And in her heart, she wanted to see what America would offer her.
“And you’ve really thought this through?” Sophia asked Isla. They were sitting in the drawing room in Widley House in Mayfair. Sophia had given her a shirt to mend, and Isla was poking at it idly. She was never adept at needlework.
“Not really, no,” Isla admitted. She sighed and set the shirt down on her lap. “That’s not going to stop me, though.”
“What if they aren’t really your parents? What are you going to do then?”
“I’m not sure,” Isla admitted. “I suppose I’m holding out on hope that seeing them will trigger my memories. Either way, Sophia, I can’t be here any longer. Everything around me reminds me of Patrick.”
Unconsciously, she reached for the string of pearls she wore around her neck. They had been given to her by Patrick a year ago on her birthday. He had told her then that he planned to marry her once he finally became a blacksmith. Obviously, that never came to fruition.
“And this man that you speak of. Do you trust him?”
Isla swallowed a lump in her throat and lifted her chin up. “I trust him enough.” It was a bold lie, but Sophia would somehow find a way to stop the ship from sailing if she knew the truth that Jackson Craig was a complete stranger.
“Where is he?” Sophia said. “I want to meet him.”
“Sophia,” Isla insisted, her face flushing. “It’s not like we’re courting each other.”
“Either way, I need to meet him and judge him for myself.”
Sophia was indeed a good judge of character, and wise. Despite her mortification, Isla was curious as to what Sophia’s opinions were of Lord Craig. To Isla, he was the most unreadable person she had come across. Although, her comment about him being a yes-man seemed to have hit a sore spot.
“Oh, fine, Sophia. I will go and give him a call to see if he wants to come over for dinner. But I assure ye, he is a respectable man.”
“You said that about that boy from Oxford, and he turned out to be quite the pill.”
“That was just one time. And besides, I was young.”
“Younger,” Sophia said, smiling. “You’ll always be young to me.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of, people not taking me seriously.”
“Oh, I take you seriously, Isla. But that does not mean I don’t worry about you. It’s what family does.”
Chapter Four
Jack tried his best to pretend that what he had done in the past never actually happened.
He wasn’t the one who bullied her outright at the orphanage. But he did not do anything to stop it. And perhaps that was worse.
But he hadn’t traveled all the way to London to make amends with his past. He was in London to finish his mission and get his brother out of jail. He would get the woman safely to Philadelphia and then be on his way to his next adventure with Milton, as far away from the Murrays as possible.
Isla didn’t need to know who he really was if he was to never see her again after their journey.
Then why do I feel so guilty keeping it from her?
Isla arrived at the Toad and Fox late in the afternoon. He saw her first, and then noticed how the crowd of people parted around her like she was some goddess… Of course, it would be easy to recognize her by her height and fiery hair.
She didn’t seem to notice the blatant stares (and a few leers from less distinguished gentlemen) as she pulled out a chair and sat next to him.
“Ye have to meet my adopted family before we leave,” she announced without preamble.
“Oh?” He took a swig of ale. Isla was wearing trousers again today. Did she wear them every day? These were tighter than the ones from the other day and he could clearly see the lean muscles in her legs pressing against the fabric. He took another sip, hoping she didn’t notice that he had been staring.
“She’s gonna decide if you’re suitable to be my chaperone.”
“What if she doesn’t like what she sees?”
“Then she’ll have to come to terms with the fact that I’m still going to America,” Isla replied haughtily.
In many ways not much had changed from the spitfire little girl he knew from the orphanage. Except now she had very little patience. Instead of tolerating the bullying as she had in the past, Isla would fight anyone who did her wrong.
“So, is this Lady St. George coming here to the tavern, or…?”
Isla sighed impatiently. “I am inviting ye to dinner, ye numbskull.”
Jack frowned at her and resisted the urge to grab the woman by the scruff like an insolent cat for calling him such a name. She hit a sore spot again, and seemed to be quite skilled at it. Perhaps Isla could fight with words just as well as she could fight with her fists.
“Fine.”
He loudly scooted his chair away from the table and finished his drink. Isla closed her mouth and gestured for him to follow her outside.
A carriage waited for them. Jack whistled softly. The vehicl
e was painted a rich blue and decorated with gold trimmings, and looked, well, damn expensive. He had to remind himself that the St. Georges were one of the wealthiest people in England..
What the hell was he doing going to their London town house?
He let Isla go into the carriage first, and then sat beside her, almost hitting his head on the low hanging ceiling. He had to crane his neck down and slouch a bit to fit. His knees almost touched his chest as he settled in his seat.
He felt like Isla was staring at him like he was one of the beasts in the Tower of London Menagerie. It made him feel incredibly self-conscious, and he became well aware of a red heat creeping up his neck and spreading across his face.
Please don’t notice, he thought worriedly.
She did.
“Have ye ever sat this close to a woman before, Lord Craig?” she purred, obviously delighted by his discomfort. “Sorry that it had to be me. I’m not quite a lady, though, y’ken. Most of the time, I don’t like wearing all those flouncy skirts and makeup.”
She didn’t need any of that though. Isla was a beauty without all the fancy gowns and elaborate hairstyles that aristocratic women frequently adorned. He forced his gaze outside, where he knew it was safe. The gray streets of London would not make him blush, unless he focused on Isla’s reflection from the window.
Thank God his brother wasn’t here to see him now. Jack was not a virgin; his brother had taken him to a brothel to make sure of that. But his interactions with women were few and far between, especially on the long roads between Philadelphia to Canada while trading beaver pelts. During their travels, he had the opportunity to bed women during their stops at villages along their way, but to his brother’s astonishment, he always refused. Yet Jack never liked the idea of bedding a woman and never seeing her again.
“Are we almost there?” Jack managed to say.
“A wee bit impatient, aren’t we?” Isla said, peering at him curiously. “Aye, we’ll be there in a few minutes.”
About three minutes later, the carriage pulled up to an elegant Georgian townhouse in Mayfair. It had been so long since he had been to such a stately place, that he looked down at his clothes self-consciously as they stepped out of the carriage. His trousers and jacket were clean, but were probably at least three seasons out of fashion, and worn and dingy at the hems.
