A Highland Conquest

by Sandra Heath

  Rory’s place at the head of the table was flanked on either side by Isabel and his sister, and Jamie was to sit on Mary’s other side. Lauren had no compunction whatsoever about exchanging her own card for Isabel’s, and a smile played grimly upon her lips as she then retraced her steps down the table to her own place, where she carefully left Isabel’s card, again without any of the footmen appearing to notice. Taking a deep, rather satisfied breath, she moved back to the entrance, where she surveyed the entrance hall again.

  More and more guests were coming down now, and she was able to join them without anyone remarking. Hester and Alex were seated across the hall, close to the outer door, and so she made her way toward them. As she did so she passed Emma.

  Isabel was with her, and she flicked her purple skirts disdainfully aside as Lauren passed, but Lauren merely smiled. Rory’s mistress wasn’t going to enjoy dinner tonight—indeed, Lauren hoped Isabel would be given indigestion when she found herself ignominiously demoted to the middle of the table!

  Lauren walked on, threading her way around several other small groups until she reached Hester and Alex, who had now been joined by Mary and Fitz. They all greeted her warmly, and she thought how particularly pretty Hester was in silver muslin and pearls. Rory’s sister wore aquamarine and opals, and by the shine in her dark eyes it was clear she hadn’t expected to have Fitz’s company now that Emma had arrived.

  Lauren sat next to Hester and whispered so that no one else could hear. “Has Alex recalled yet where he saw Lady Fitzsimmons?” she asked.

  “Not really, except that he feels it was three or four years ago, when he was either in Bath or Brighton. It was before I knew him, so I really have no idea. It’s a mystery, is it not?”

  “It is indeed.”

  Most of the guests had now gathered in the hall, and a babble of conversation echoed around the ancient rafters. Outside it was still a warm summer evening and sunlight filtered brilliantly in through the high windows. Jewels flashed, fans fluttered, and now and then there were bursts of laughter amid the general conversation. It was a very agreeable atmosphere and Lauren wished she could enjoy it properly, but that was out of the question now that she’d overheard so many unwelcome home truths about Rory. She wished she’d never come to Glenvane Castle or set eyes upon its handsome master.

  There was a stir as Rory and Jamie appeared at the head of the staircase. Lauren surveyed them both, her green eyes bright with a warlike glint. Let battle commence!

  Chapter 8

  Lauren studied Rory and Jamie as they descended to join the guests. They both wore the close-fitting black silk evening coats and white trousers that were de riqueur for such occasions, but Jamie affected to be very much the tippy where fashion was concerned. His trousers were of the style known as cossacks, very full at the waist and gathered at the ankles, and his starched neckcloth was very voluminous indeed. On many a gentleman such modes might have appeared ridiculous, but the Honorable James Ardmore had the flair to carry them off.

  Rory chose to be much more conventional than his younger brother. But being conventional did not make him dull—on the contrary, he showed a great deal more taste and sophistication. His corded silk coat needed no more than the excellence of its material and tailoring to make it perfect, his trousers were superbly cut, and his unstarched neckcloth was tied in a simple but effective knot which was the ideal setting for a solitaire diamond pin. He was coolly immaculate, but there was always a suggestion of fire just beneath the surface—ice with a flame within, the cool aristocrat versus the passionate buccaneer.

  Lauren had to look away, angry with herself for still finding him so fascinating and irresistibly attractive. What was wrong with her? She now knew him to be totally uninterested in her, even to the point of aiding and abetting his dissolute brother in his aim to win her, and yet her senses were in turmoil just because he was near. This wouldn’t do! Fiercely she reminded herself that to Rory Ardmore she was ‘the Ashworth fortune’, readily available to refill his brother’s threadbare pockets. She felt her sense of outrage sweeping back, but at the same time she had the satisfaction of knowing she was one step ahead of their little plan. She was going to amuse herself at their expense!

  The two men reached the foot of the staircase, where they paused to speak briefly to the first group of guests they encountered. Then they moved on to the next. Lauren knew that they would make their way toward her party; they had to if Rory was to see to it that Jamie escorted her in to dine. No doubt they were both confident that things would go as planned, but a rude awakening lay in store.

  As expected, they did indeed wend their way over, and Rory greeted her as if nothing had changed since the afternoon. If it hadn’t been for her providential eavesdropping, she would not have known he was anything but sincere. He had mentioned his thespian skills, and was indeed so convincing an actor that even Isabel, who had also joined the party with Emma, was also taken in. Isabel was far from pleased; after a while she could bear it no more and had to draw attention to herself. She gave Rory a brilliant smile.

  “Rory, have you noticed Miss Maitland’s lovely locket? I vow it is the very image of the one in your mother’s jewel box.”

  “Yes, I’ve seen it. I agree, it’s very similar.”

  “Such a pretty thing. It seems that Boston has a master jeweler to rival anything London has to offer. Miss Maitland, I really must compliment you upon your gown. It’s such an exquisite color, and I’m all envy because you can wear it and I cannot. I’ve always yearned to wear that particular shade of pink, but when I’ve tried I fear it makes me look fit for interment.”

  “I’m flattered by your admiration, Lady Maxby,” Lauren replied, her tone polite but her eyes cool. Did the woman really expect her to be all smiles after what had been said earlier?

  “I trust you and I will soon become better acquainted, Miss Maitland, for I’m sure we have much in common.”

  I doubt that very much, thought Lauren. Then, from the corner of her eye, she saw a secretive smirk on Emma’s face as she and Isabel exchanged knowing glances. So they thought they could toy with her, did they? Well, dear Isabel’s feathers would be ruffled when she discovered the new seating arrangements at dinner, but Emma’s could be satisfactorily ruffled before then!

  She gave the latter an innocuous smile. “Lady Fitzsimmons, there is something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” she said lightly.

  “Ask me?”

  “Yes. Tell me, haven’t we met before somewhere?”

  Hester and Alex looked swiftly at Lauren, but she wasn’t intent upon Brighton or Bath a few years ago, but upon something that had happened much more recently. At the Crown & Thistle, to be precise.

  This was the conclusion to which Emma immediately leapt, and her face became a little pale. “Met before? No, I’m sure we haven’t,” she said, with swift recourse to her fan. Her almond-shaped eyes were wide as they swung anxiously toward Jamie.

  Lauren savored being the cat to the other’s mouse. “No? But I feel absolutely certain that—”

  Emma interrupted her. “Miss Maitland, I can’t imagine where we could possibly have met. I don’t believe you were with Hester and Alex when I first met them in Bond Street a short while ago, were you?”

  “No, I wasn’t.” Lauren smiled again. “Maybe I’m mistaken, or maybe I’ll suddenly remember,” she added wickedly.

  Remember? That was the last thing Emma wanted! She said nothing more, and avoided any further discomfort by removing herself from the party altogether. Fitz glanced after her, but Lauren noted that he made no move at all to follow. On the contrary, he moved a little closer to Mary, who gave him a shy smile.

  The dinner gong reverberated through the hall, and Lauren immediately forced her thoughts back to the matter in hand—that of confounding Rory and Jamie in their plan. She had a notion of her own, and the moment Rory turned toward her to suggest that Jamie escort her in to dine, she smiled and linked the elder brother’s arm, as if innocentl
y anticipating his own invitation! She did it so neatly that she was as convincing as he himself had been.

  “I’m honored, Lord Glenvane,” she murmured, turning her shoulder just sufficiently to exclude Jamie, who was ready and waiting at her other elbow.

  Rory returned her smile without wavering, nor did he display any irritation he may have felt at this unexpected obstacle to his simple intention, but as they moved toward the dining hall and the other guests began to form a column behind them, she detected the brief glance he cast over his shoulder at his brother. Jamie had once again been obliged to accompany Isabel, whose bemused face was a picture to behold as she found herself supplanted yet again by the loathed visitor from across the Atlantic.

  Lauren was delighted to have so neatly countered the opening skirmish in the war of the Ashworth fortune. The initial advantage was hers, she fancied, eagerly anticipating the next engagement.

  The changed placecards caused discreet confusion—very discreet indeed, as far as Rory was concerned. If he was surprised to find Lauren next to him, he gave no outward sign, or none that any but the initiated would have noticed. His smile and grace of manner did not alter at all as he waited for the attendant footman to draw her chair out for her, but his eyes bore a rather quizzical expression.

  Jamie was also puzzled as he took his place next to his sister. His quandary was plain as he wondered how on earth he was going to commence his grand wooing across such a large table. Lauren felt no compassion for his difficulty. He had gotten himself into his financial scrape and he could get himself out again. Besides, she thoroughly disapproved of his liaison with Emma. He was willingly putting horns on poor Fitz, and Emma wasn’t the hard-done-by wife who sought solace in the arms of a lover! No, Jamie and Emma were both despicably selfish, and Lauren had no time for either of them.

  As Lauren took her seat, she stole a glance down the table at Isabel, who was speechless with disbelief on finding herself banished so far from Rory. Her cheeks were suffused with color, and became even more so when she perceived who now occupied her original place next to Rory. Isabel’s bluebell eyes were positively poisonous as they rested momentarily upon her rival, for her humiliation was beginning to cause discreet comment around the table. Not only that, she also had to suffer the prospect of dinner with a fat viscount she disliked on her one side and an elderly clergyman who’d known her late husband on the other.

  Lauren was satisfied that justice had been done, although she wished Hester wouldn’t keep drawing the wrong conclusion. This latest business had merely served to convince Hester still further that Rory had formed a burning attachment for her American cousin. If only it were so, but the unpalatable truth was very different.

  The dinner was excellent, and very traditionally Scottish. It commenced with the famous cock-a-leekie, a delicious chicken broth containing vegetables and prunes, and was followed by lavish fish courses of salmon, trout, and plump mackerel. The main courses consisted of buck venison, roast beef, and various gamebirds, all served with every vegetable and accompaniment imaginable, and for dessert there were jellies, fruit creams, and a veritable feast of pineapples from the estate’s glasshouses. Rory was attentive throughout, and in spite of everything, Lauren couldn’t help finding the experience very enjoyable. He had many anecdotes to tell about the castle and its colorful history. She learned that it had briefly sheltered Mary, Queen of Scots, and her lover, the Earl of Bothwell, and that Bonnie Prince Charlie had hidden there as well. She also learned that there was a ghost—a gray lady who glided down the staircase at dawn and then went out into the gardens to the loch, where she walked into the water before vanishing. It seemed she was one of Rory’s ancestors, an unfortunate Lady Margaret, who had anticipated her marriage vows and then lost her love when he’d drowned in the loch. Unable to contemplate life alone, she’d gone to join him in the same watery grave.

  It was at the end of the meal, just before the ladies adjourned to the solar, that Rory’s steward came apologetically to the table to speak quietly in his master’s ear. From where she sat, Lauren heard what he said.

  “Begging your pardon, my lord, but I think you should know that old Rab’s wife has managed to get down here to tell you that he’s changed his mind about leaving the croft after all. Now he says he won’t go even if it falls down about his ears.”

  Rory sat back with a sigh. “Damn the old fool,” he muttered.

  “I suppose it was to be expected, my lord.”

  “Yes, for there never was a more stubborn old goat. Why can’t he admit that he’s too old to spend another winter out on the mountain? He and Aggie have earned a new home and a comfortable retirement, but he insists upon leading the life he’s always led. It wouldn’t matter if he were young and hale, but he isn’t, and neither is poor Aggie.”

  “As you say, sir, he’s a stubborn old goat.”

  “One who is about to discover that I am a stubborn young one.”

  The steward smiled. “What shall I tell her, my lord?”

  Rory was silent for a moment. “Tell her I’ll go there tomorrow and try again. I’ll do all I can to see they’re safely rehoused before winter. I’ll ride out there first thing in the morning, and I mean first thing. Would you tell McGregor to have my horse ready at six?”

  “Yes, my lord. Will you wish me to accompany you?” This was said with, as Lauren thought, a rather odd reluctance.

  Rory gave him a rather wry smile. “No, Tam. Rab’s mulishness will be sufficient on its own. You know what he’s like about 1692 and all that.”

  “My lord.” The steward bowed and withdrew again.

  Lauren gazed thoughtfully at the table, for this was a side of Rory Ardmore that she could only admire. He was the concerned master, intent upon the welfare of those on his estate. She wished she couldn’t find anything to commend him, for that would have made everything easier as far as she was concerned, but fate was determined to make difficulties. Her heart steadfastly refused to loathe him, and now there was something to admire as well!

  Several minutes later it was time for the ladies to leave the gentlemen to their after-dinner port, except that in Scotland, due to historic connections with France, the men preferred claret. As Lauren went out with the ladies, she knew that she would be the target of attention from Isabel, and she simply wasn’t in the mood. She wanted to be on her own, to have time to think clearly, and so she pleaded a headache and withdrew gracefully to her room. There she sat on the windowseat, watching the crimson spangles of the fading sunset flashing upon the surface of the loch.

  She was still there when darkness descended over Glenvane, and Peggy had quite a shock when she came to light the room and turn the bed back.

  “You startled me, Miss Lauren! I didn’t realize you were here.”

  “I didn’t feel like being closeted with a gaggle of women.”

  “Is there anything I can get you, miss?”

  “No. Thank you.”

  At that moment there was a knock at the door, and Peggy went to answer it. It was Jamie.

  “Lord Glenvane has sent me to enquire if Miss Maitland is well,” he said.

  Lauren’s fury was suddenly rekindled, for it was quite patently another move in the Ardmore brothers’ conspiracy to ensnare her.

  Peggy turned inquiringly and saw her mistress shaking her head urgently. The maid had been in Lauren’s service long enough to know what was expected, and she turned to Jamie again. “Miss Maitland is feeling a little indisposed, and has retired, sir.”

  “Would you please inform her that we trust she will soon be well again?”

  “I will, sir.”

  Jamie walked away again, and Peggy closed the door.

  Lauren immediately rose from the window seat. “Peggy, I’ve decided to go riding first thing in the morning.”

  “Yes, Miss Lauren.” The maid did not see anything unusual in this, for at home in Boston Lauren had often gone out for a ride before breakfast.

  “Would you see to it th
at someone is told I require a suitable horse at about half-past five?”

  “Half past five?” Peggy stared.

  ‘That’s what I said.”

  “Isn’t that a little early?” the maid ventured.

  “Maybe, but I wish to be able to enjoy a long ride. When were you told the breakfast bell would ring?”

  “Ten, Miss Lauren, but I gather no one really bothers to go down until about eleven, and then everything goes on until well after midday.”

  “So you’ll attend to the matter of a suitable horse for half-past five?”

  “Yes, Miss Lauren.”

  “And now I think I’ll go to bed.”

  Lauren’s green eyes were bright with determination as Peggy helped her undress. Lord Glenvane was going to encounter the Ashworth fortune out riding, for she intended to hide within view of the castle and then follow him when he went on the promised call to old Rab and his wife. On the way back, she would just happen to meet him. That would be something else for him to explain to Jamie, and something else for dear Isabel to swallow as well!

  Chapter 9

  The following day, Mary’s eighteenth birthday, dawned as warm and sunny as nearly all its predecessors that summer, and Lauren was up well in time to go for the ride. She wore the primrose riding habit and veiled black top hat she’d had on the day she met Rory in the Mall, and her hair was loosely gathered into a net at the nape of her neck, leaving soft curls to frame her face.

  The clock struck half-past five exactly as she went down the grand staircase to the hall, where there was already a great deal of bustle as preparations began for the ball that evening. Many huge bowls of flowers were being brought in for the decorations, the table had been removed so that the floor would be clear for the dancing, and servants were bringing sofas from the rest of the castle to place around the edges of the hall. A fashionable Glasgow orchestra had been engaged, and a dais had been erected overnight at the far end of the hall.