Nathaniel’s face was drawn in a fierce frown, but he didn’t have a musket leveled at him. “Why exactly was Finlarig seized by the crown?”
“Because they are traitors,” Philip said and took a gulp off a mug that Molly had brought. His lips tightened as he swallowed, and he set it down. Grey hoped Molly had pissed in it.
“My father was a known Covenanter,” Grey said. “He wished to worship as a Presbyterian and felt that Charles and his brother were secret papists, remaining loyal to Rome and the Pope.”
“Exactly,” Philip said, raising his hand as if to say that explained everything. “Traitors. All of them.”
“No, they aren’t,” Evelyn said. Her voice held the tightness of desperation, but Grey wouldn’t look at her. There was too much to work through to let her softness and beauty distract him.
“My father had no plans to overthrow King Charles or support the extremist groups in the area,” he said. “To him this was a religious issue, not a leadership issue.”
“But he was killed?” Nathaniel asked.
Grey tried to read something from Nathaniel’s features, but the man kept his thoughts hidden. Did he already know the answer? Was Evelyn’s brother behind it all? Surely Evelyn didn’t know. His stomach twisted tighter.
“Aye, he and my mother. They were invited to a conventicle, a religious gathering on the other side of Loch Tay. ’Twas a trap.”
“I am practically a servant of King Charles,” the fop blustered from his seat. He pointed at Grey. “He should be arrested and hung for attacking me.”
Scarlet walked over. “Here, Lord Philip. Have a sip of whisky.” She handed him a cup. “It will help immensely.”
“Nathaniel,” Evelyn said, walking to him. “There is no treason here.” She shook her head. “These are good people, just trying to live their lives. And their ancestral home was seized, and…it was burned without further provocation.”
“Me telling the English to bugger off was probably provoking,” Grey said. He watched Evelyn closely as she cut him a look that bordered on anger but still held the heaviness of remorse.
She turned back to her brother. “Who told you about Finlarig being set to sell right after the new year?” she asked.
“Father’s solicitor, Edgar Brooks, brought it around. He thought it would make an ideal estate for the sheep farm that I had been contemplating.” Nathaniel’s voice was hard.
“Who told you that sheep farming was a good investment?” Grey asked, still trying to decipher the man’s cold look.
“The wool industry is booming,” Philip said and took another sip of the whisky, pulling his lips back at the burn. He coughed into his fist. “Nathaniel would be foolish not to get involved.”
“Philip and I began discussing it last autumn,” Nathaniel answered. “When my father’s health faltered. Philip thought it would be an effective way to improve the estate income, since parliament continues to be dissolved.”
“Your solicitor,” Grey said, “had inside information about Finlarig being available immediately after my father’s death, if not before.”
“And you must let the king know that the Campbells of Finlarig were unjustly persecuted,” Evelyn said. “That they did not deserve to lose their castle.”
Philip let out a dark bark of laughter, and Scarlet handed him a tart.
“What do you propose, Evie?” Nathaniel asked. “That I forfeit the six thousand pounds that I’ve invested by purchasing Finlarig?”
Grey stared hard at the Englishman. Did he see them merely as Scottish vermin? “The worth of my parents’ lives is far greater.”
“Certainly,” Nathaniel replied, his gaze moving to Grey. Strength met strength as the two regarded each other. “I but point out that this is not a simple matter of handing over the key to the front door, and six thousand pounds is not a sum easily relinquished.”
“Perhaps Charles can be persuaded to give back the money,” Evelyn said.
Philip snorted, speaking around chewing. “Likely he has already spent it.”
Nathaniel tapped his two fists together as he thought. He looked up, brows lowered. “Why would traitors try to take Finlarig out of Campbell hands and place it in mine?” His stare pierced Grey’s, without blinking. “Since a mere six thousand pounds is hardly worth all this effort.”
Grey felt his lips twitch to pull back in a growl. He relaxed his jaw enough to speak. “Exactly my question,” he said, his eyebrow raising. Was Evelyn’s brother so talented at lying to blatantly call out his own guilt and still look outraged at the thought of manipulation?
They stood in silence, and Grey felt Evelyn’s gaze on him. She hadn’t mentioned the letter. He glanced at her beautiful face, full of concern.
Philip pushed upright. “I would be taken to my rooms while I contemplate what to do about all of this,” he said, as if the castle and matter at hand were his. Grey bit down to keep from telling him to bugger off, too.
“Molly,” Evelyn said, beckoning the maid. “Can you please find two rooms, on the third floor, for Lord Philip and Lord Nathaniel?”
“I already have fires leaping about like witches in two hearths.” Molly cut a brief curtsy. “And I’ll find some pottage and fresh bread to bring up. Follow me, milord.”
Philip followed after her, a fierce glare in his close-set eyes. “You should leave the premises, Campbell, before I have Captain Cross drag you away.”
He could foking try. Grey slowly drew his sword, the scrape of steel sounding loud in the silent tension of the room. With widening eyes, Philip hurried after Molly.
Grey heard Nathaniel speak behind him. “I would have a private word with you, Evelyn. Perhaps in your new library.”
“Yes, of course,” she said, cutting a glance to Grey that he couldn’t read.
“I’ll help Molly come up with something from the kitchen,” Scarlet said.
“You cook now, Scar?” Nathaniel asked.
Scarlet gave a wicked grin. “We are quite self-sufficient at the Highland Roses School, dear brother.”
Nathaniel held his arm out to Evelyn, and she took it. “If this is about my clan and castle, I will come, too,” Grey said.
Nathaniel’s gaze turned slowly to meet his. “No,” he said. “Lead on, Evie.”
Dammit. Grey wanted to swing his sword but checked himself. Anger only made men react foolishly. Instead, Grey watched Nathaniel Worthington lead Evelyn away. She glanced quickly over one shoulder at him. Their gazes connected and held. Pain sat in her eyes, pain, sadness, and…fear.
“Blast,” Grey murmured. He should check with Hamish and Kerrick about the other Englishmen, but he felt rooted to the stone slabs beneath his boots. He looked toward the entryway and then back at the steps. “Bloody hell.” Grey counted to ten in his head and walked to the steps that led to the second-floor library.
…
Nathaniel grabbed Evelyn’s shoulders, bending to look into her eyes. “You are well?” he asked, some of the anger from earlier ebbing from his face.
Evelyn nodded, her lips pressed tight. How could she tell her brother about the twisting regret in her stomach? He knew she hadn’t known that the captain meant to burn people out of Finlarig. It was Grey’s reaction, the distrust flaring in his face, that threatened to make her weep worse than their mother.
“But something must be done to help these people here, Nat. As far as I can see, they’ve done nothing to deserve the king’s sanctions against them. I should have asked more questions about Captain Cross’s tactics, questions about the people here.”
Nathaniel scoffed. “The burning of this castle has nothing to do with you, Evie.”
“But Grey must think…” she said, not bothering to hide the heaviness in her voice.
His gaze moved between each of her eyes. “No questions about the banns being posted or the royal backin
g? Just concern for Grey Campbell?”
Evelyn’s stomach undulated with nausea. “No matter what, Nathaniel, I will not marry Philip, even if I must leave Scotland and England.”
His eyes narrowed as he regarded her. “Tell me about Greyson Campbell.”
Evelyn jerked her gaze from the carpet where she and Grey had first loved each other. Her brother stood with his arms crossed, a frown darkening his handsome face. She opened her lips and exhaled long, tipping her head. “He is…strong, a leader of his people, compassionate…” A talented and vigorous lover. Evelyn felt her cheeks start to warm, so she turned to look at the charred log in the grate. “He has no connections with anyone who would make him a danger to Charles. Captain Cross is the traitor in this mess.”
Nathaniel’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you think that?”
Should she tell him about the letter? She’d given it to Grey to do with as he pleased. He’d interrupted her in the bailey when she’d started to mention it. Evelyn hesitated. Ever since their father died, Nathaniel had become more and more involved with the treacherous world of government. It was true that, like their father, Nathaniel despised the monarchy and argued for the reinstatement of parliament.
“Captain Cross ordered the castle burned. He is a devil. When you talk to him, it is obvious that he cares not for Scotland or its people. I just…feel he is involved with all of this, that his intentions toward Charles are treasonous.”
Nathaniel’s brows drew together. “Come, Evie,” he said. “I’ve never known you to jump to conclusions without hard evidence. The captain might well be evil in his ways against the Scottish, but what makes him a traitor to the crown?”
He stepped closer to her, and Evelyn felt the hard mantel press against her upper back. But this was Nathaniel, not someone who would harm her, no matter how his eyes hardened like their father’s when he was angry.
Evelyn pressed her palms together. Her voice came small. “There’s a letter, Nat. From someone in London to Captain Cross, telling him to get Grey’s parents out of Finlarig so it could be used as a meeting place for those plotting to kill the king.”
He stepped directly in front of her. “Who is the letter from?”
She swallowed. “We don’t know. It is signed the Surgeon of London.”
“We?” he asked. “Who else has seen the letter? Where is it now?”
Her mouth felt dry, and she rubbed her lips together. “I don’t have it, but it’s close. We should send it to Charles, so he can see that Captain Cross is a traitor and that Grey’s clan is not plotting against him.”
He leaned closer to her face. “Evie, I want to see the letter.”
Evelyn’s chin began to feel numb, like when her father stared at her intensely. But instead of looking down, she inhaled, meeting her brother’s steely eyes. She swallowed. “Nathaniel,” she whispered. “You aren’t the Surgeon of London, are you?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Evelyn’s heart thudded like a stampede behind her breast as she searched Nathaniel’s face. His hands came down on her shoulders, his eyes narrowing. “The Highlander has it, doesn’t he?”
Her heartbeat pounded in her throat. “He has been wronged,” she whispered, her words breathless. “His parents killed, his clan attacked.” She shook her head. “Are you…did you know that—”
Nathaniel made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat, cutting her off. “How could you think that I’d allow you and Scarlet to travel here to build your school if I was plotting treason at Finlarig?” Nathaniel dropped his arms, running one hand up to cup the back of his skull. “’Tis true, I have no love for Charles. He’s ridiculous in his expenditures and often makes a mockery of the crown. But no, little sister, I am not planning to assassinate him, here in Scotland or down in England.”
Evelyn released her breath. “Oh, thank God. I knew Grey’s suspicions were wrong.”
“Yet you listened to him,” Nathaniel said, studying her. “You respect the man?”
“Yes,” she said. “He is intelligent, and he thinks women are, too. That we are more than broodmares and someone merely to keep a home.” Grey was nothing like the ostentatious, soul-trapping men at court. “He is honorable and kind, one of the best of men.”
She saw Nathaniel’s gaze lower to her chest and realized that she clasped her hands together before her. Untangling her clenched fingers, she dropped them. “We need to help him regain his family’s home despite the cost.” She met her brother’s stare, letting him see the emotion that she usually hid.
Nathaniel’s lips pulled back as he sucked in air, his face hardening to stone. “He has seduced you,” he said, the words breaking through from behind his teeth. “Hasn’t he?”
“No,” Evelyn said, drawing herself up tall. She swallowed, staring directly into her brother’s eyes. “We seduced each other.” No matter what Grey thought of her, she wouldn’t let Nathaniel think Grey was the villain.
Nathaniel’s face contorted, a red flush spreading up his neck as he fisted his hands. “That bloody bastard,” he yelled, his voice booming through the library. “He’s ruined you.”
Behind him, the library door flew open, banging against the wall with battering-ram force. Grey strode in, legs braced and fists ready for battle. His gaze swung to Evelyn, and he strode directly toward her. Before he could reach her, Nathaniel stepped before him, swinging his fist at Grey’s face.
“You bastard,” Nathaniel yelled.
Grey dodged his attack and shoved her brother back with both hands against his chest. Nathaniel stumbled backward but surged forward. It was like watching two beastly, furious bears throwing against each other.
“Stop!” Evelyn yelled. “Stop! Both of you.” Grey was armed with daggers and his sword, yet he didn’t draw any of them. Nathaniel likely concealed a few himself. Stepping back, Grey threw out one foot, catching Nathaniel’s knee, bending it backward so that he stumbled away.
“You’ve ruined her,” Nathaniel said, his voice tearing through the room.
Evelyn noticed that Scarlet, Alana, and Molly stood in the doorway, but her focus was on the battle before her and the rage shooting up within her. She threw her hands in the air. “Ruined? For someone who is ruined, I feel pretty damn good! Now stop fighting!”
Someone gasped from the doorway. Breathing hard, Nathaniel’s face swung toward her, but he kept an eye on Grey. “You’ve given him your maidenhead, Evelyn. He’s ruined you.”
The growing bubble of anger in her middle swelled. “Why is a woman ruined for choosing to whom to give herself? Is a man ruined when he first lies with a woman?”
“Evie,” Nathaniel said.
“No,” she said, walking toward him, her finger pointing in time with her words. “Did anyone chastise you, Nathaniel Worthington, for bedding a kitchen maid when you were seventeen?”
“Evie!” he yelled.
“Or have long talks with you about how you’d ruin your reputation and family’s honor if you even returned a man’s smile for more than a few seconds?” Evelyn’s arms were up and moving. “No, of course not, and it’s not fair. Women are ostracized and ruined, while a man in the same circumstance is thumped on the back for his prowess as long as he’s not spreading bastards about.”
“I was never thumped on the back,” Nathaniel murmured, his teeth set and his dark gaze on Grey, who stood with his arms crossed.
“Here, here,” Scarlet called from the door, which earned her a fierce frown from Nathaniel before he turned back to Evelyn.
“For an advantageous marriage, a woman of high rank must be a virgin when she weds,” Nathaniel said. “Father’s will—”
“And you know, brother, that I do not, nor have ever wanted an advantageous marriage, no matter what horrible dictates sit in our sire’s will.”
“Evie,” Nathaniel said. “He’s using you, seducing you to take back
the castle.”
“Or,” Scarlet said. “She could be using him to get out of wedding that feathered ass.”
Nathaniel’s gaze cut to Scarlet and then back to Evelyn, his mouth tight like their father’s had been right before he exploded. “This is not the place to discuss our family business.”
For a moment, Evelyn almost stepped back, as Nathaniel’s voice sounded so much like Father’s. But the brute who used voice and strength to intimidate and punish was no longer in the world, and when he died, she swore never to cower before anyone again.
Evelyn’s hands landed on her hips. Her mind churned with a hailstorm of anger, making her words snap out. “If this business involves me, I think I can discuss it with whomever I want, wherever I want.”
Nathaniel crossed his arms over his chest. “Evelyn,” he said, his voice a rough warning. Grey uncrossed his arms, fists tightening.
“No, Nathaniel.” Evelyn shook her head. Her chin tipped up higher as she walked up close to him. “I am done being cowed by the men in my family—”
“As a woman in the family, I don’t have much luck cowing her, either,” Scarlet called out, but Evelyn just stared up into Nathaniel’s tight face.
The ridiculous social differences between the sexes always enraged her. With the added turmoil of Grey thinking that she had kept information from him, maybe even been partly responsible for the fire, she shook. The pressure built within Evelyn, her mouth opened, and her words flew with force.
“If I want to discuss throwing my skirts up for Grey to ruin me so I don’t have to wed a dandified, weak skipjack, then I can. I am a strong, independent woman.” She threw her hand toward the crowded doorway. “If I want to ask Grey to carry me up now to his huge scandalous bed to ruin me some more, I will do just that.”
Someone cleared their throat behind the onlookers at the door. All three ladies jumped, with Molly turning first. She squeaked, sucking in air, her hand to her chest as if to keep her heart inside. Evelyn’s own heart beat against her breastbone as Scarlet and Alana stepped aside. But what wrapped around Evelyn’s breath as if it were caught inside a tightening noose was the round, red face of Philip Sotheby.
A Rose in the Highlands (Highland Roses School) Page 27
