by Clare Jayne
He left the house, walking the familiar route to the main shopping area with its mix of shops, stalls and a few people selling flowers and other light items from a basket.
He thought over last evening as he strode along, a cool breeze reducing the August heat. He had not had the chance to ask Miss Campbell if she had been joking about never marrying and it was something that was still on his mind, bothering him. On the other hand, he was not utterly certain yet that he wished to court her, although his feelings grew more fixed by the day, so perhaps it would have given an unfair impression to have raised the subject again. It would be unthinkable to make her anticipate an offer from him that he then failed to make. Of course it would also be highly unpleasant for him to decide to make her an offer that she had no interest in even considering.
The discussion about their families had intrigued him, leaving a lot unspoken. It sounded as if she had not had a particularly affectionate relationship with either of her parents. And now she lived under the roof of Lady Huntly. No wonder Miss Campbell sometimes had a pensive air. Perhaps that too had something to do with her attitude to marriage, making her wary of letting anyone get close to her. That would fit with what he knew of her.
He reached his tailor just in time for his appointment on the important matter of a new outfit, the comments about the waistcoat becoming quite heated before a decision was reached for it to have vertical green and purple stripes.
He left there with a sense of great accomplishment and, on a whim, then entered a bookshop and purchased a number of medical books that the seller assured him were appropriate for a novice.
He returned home and took his new purchases into the parlour, glancing through the books over a glass of whisky before settling on the one that had illustrations. As he turned the pages he became increasingly concerned, on Miss Campbell’s behalf, at how many of the pictures – for the purposes of explaining muscles and bones – showed naked male bodies. Surely the professors at Edinburgh University would ensure she was not subjected to images that must surely disturb an innocent lady?
As he was worrying about this, his second footman entered the room, having completed his errands on Ewan’s behalf. Ewan closed the book and put it on a coffee table, giving Angus his attention. “How did you get on?”
“Only one of the caddies knew the maid by sight and said he would keep an eye out for her, but I couldn’t find any sign of where she is now. I got the name and address of her parents if that helps at all.”
“It does indeed. That is excellent work,” Ewan said, walking over to his writing desk and getting out parchment, ink and quill to write down the information. He should call on Miss Campbell as soon as possible to share this.
Chapter Fourteen
ISHBEL ATTENDED lectures all day and returned to the Huntly residence in the early evening to find Harriette entertaining Mr MacPherson or, more likely, entertaining herself at his expense. Mr MacPherson relayed what his footman had learnt which they agreed gave them another avenue to pursue and it was heartening to hear that a caddie was searching for Aileas Jones for them. She felt they were at last making real progress.
Since Harriette showed no sign of leaving them alone, Ishbel decided to make use of her knowledge of society. “What do you know of the Duke of Lothian?” she asked. “Specifically, just how badly in debt is he and could he be our thief?”
Harriette leaned back on the chaise longue with a rustle of silk and petticoats and began to fan herself. “He comes from a distinguished family and has not only gone through a considerable fortune but also frequently gets into debt that he cannot pay off. At the start of the week he bought a matching pair of bay geldings to pull his new phaeton.”
“Where did he get the money for all that?” Mr MacPherson asked.
“No one knows but if you intend to ask him if he stole Lady Tinbough’s necklace you should be careful as he has a quick temper and takes pleasure in fighting duels.”
“Perhaps I should speak to him,” Miss Campbell suggested. “He can hardly challenge me to a duel.”
“You could charm him into telling you about his life,” Harriette suggested and, for some reason, the words made Mr MacPherson breathe in sharply, straightening in his chair.
Ishbel could not tell if her cousin was mocking her or not. “Could I?”
“Certainly not,” Mr MacPherson insisted in an unusually firm tone. “That would be a horribly awkward situation to put your cousin in, Lady Huntly.”
“I do not see why,” Ishbel said, hurt that he did not think her capable of doing this. “I may not be competent in large social settings but I could feign an interest in him during a single conversation. Harriette can introduce me.”
“Delighted,” Harriette said in an amused tone that almost certainly meant she was inwardly laughing at one or other of them.
“It is really not necessary,” Mr MacPherson quickly said to her. “I have never been challenged to a duel and have already been introduced to the gentleman; I can speak to him without causing the least disagreement.”
“Better not to take any chances,” Harriette told him, with a welcoming show of support.
Mr MacPherson opened his mouth and Ishbel said quickly, “It is settled then.”
Looking thoroughly disgruntled, he said, “Apparently,” then added, “Did you attend any lectures today?”
“Eight,” she said, a little startled by the abrupt change of subject.
“Is human anatomy one of your interests?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I happen to have observed that the books on the subject show the kind of pictures that are thoroughly unsuitable for an unmarried lady. I trust your professors know better than to let you see such things?”
“In fact,” she told him, “the professors know better than to tell me what I can and cannot study.”
“It does not appear as if I am needed here, so I will bid you both good evening.” He got up, bowed stiffly, ignored Harriette’s dismissive gesture with her fan, and stalked out of the room.
Ishbel watched him leave with an anger that swiftly turned into dismay. How had that argument even begun? He had given no reason for his dislike at the thought of her speaking to the Duke of Lothian and the comment about her studying had come from nowhere. Also how had it come about that she had insisted on showing an interest in a man she had never met to get information from him when she had no idea how to charm anyone into doing anything?
She turned to Harriette as the older woman got to her feet and headed to the parlour door, saying, “I am starting to like that young man. He can always be relied upon to enliven a dull evening.”
Chapter Fifteen
ISHBEL AWOKE in an irritable mood, having slept extremely badly. She felt, although she could not have explained why, as if she had Harriette to blame for the disagreement with Mr MacPherson. She had begun to believe he would remain her friend and would not vanish from her life as other people had, but now she was not certain of it. Had his reaction last night meant that he had objected to her studying all along and only feigned interest in it or had she done something to upset him? Perhaps someone else had annoyed him.
She washed, let Lucy tie her into her stays and pulled on a plain gown then hurried down to the dining room, where Harriette was choosing her breakfast while Lord Huntly was already buried behind his morning newspaper.
“Did you say something to annoy Mr MacPherson before I got home yesterday?” she asked as she picked up a plate.
Harriette added scrambled eggs to her plate. “Why would I possibly do that?”
“That was not a no.”
“He was in a perfectly amiable mood until your arrival.”
Ishbel deflated. “Oh.”
“You can meet me here at two o’clock but make sure you are already changed into something smarter and more becoming.” Harriette looked at the gown Ishbel currently wore and shuddered. “Perhaps you should just let me choose the fabric and style of your outfits from now on.”
“You tried that,” Ishbel reminded her, recalling her first year living under the same roof as her cousin. “It did not end well.”
“You can be excessively stubborn.
“Would you let anyone else choose your clothes?”
Harriette looked horrified at the idea. “Of course not.” She added a roll to her plate and walked over to the dining table, taking a seat opposite her husband. “But I have good taste.”
Ishbel threw a frown at the back of her coiffed head then thought to ask a more important question: “Why am I meeting you at two o’clock?”
“To be introduced to the Duke of Lothian obviously. He will be one of my guests for afternoon tea today.”
Well, she could hardly object when she did need to meet him and at least it did not interfere with any of her timetabled lectures today. “Do you think I should inform Mr MacPherson?” She hoped he would be in a better mood today and they could ignore their tiff.
As she carried her food to the table and sat down, she caught her cousin looking at her with a disbelieving expression, but Harriette just said, “You should do whatever you wish.”
Those were the most un-Harriette-like words ever spoken and Ishbel began to view the upcoming day with trepidation. She attended her morning lectures, including watching the dissection of a cadaver during an anatomy class, which was fascinating and which Mr MacPherson would thoroughly have disapproved of. She had no idea what to do about him. She was tempted to just ignore him but in the end decided he was owed an update on the case so she wrote him a short note saying when she would meet the duke and that he was welcome to call at the house later this afternoon should he wish to discuss the outcome.
She then got changed into a brightly coloured robe à la polonaise, its mass of gathered skirts too big and elaborate for her tastes, but it was part of her strategy for handling the duke. She had told Lucy what she was doing and confessed her unease.
As she did up all the tiny buttons at the back of the dress, Lucy now said, “It’ll be easy for you, Miss. If he has the new horses with him you can just comment on them, smile at him and let him talk for the rest of the afternoon. Men like being listened to so he should tell you everything you want to know without you doing a thing.”
That sounded reassuringly simple. Ishbel tied a lace fichu over her shoulders and, with a frown, surveyed her image in the mirror, trying to imagine how a man would see her. The sky blue dress went well with her red hair and was likely to draw attention to her in a way she usually hated, but she could put it to use on this occasion. They needed to know if the duke was the thief.
“You are certain I will not need to say anything in particular or simper?”
Lucy observed her with fond amusement. “Can you simper, Miss?”
“No.”
“Then best not. If he ever shows signs of losing interest in talking to you just compliment him. Tell him he has good taste in horses or clothes or whatever he’s talking about. That should set him off again.”
“How can you know so much about such matters, Lucy?”
“I watched my oldest sister court her husband,” her maid said, folding up the gown Ishbel had worn this morning.
“It was not the other way around?”
“No, Miss,” Lucy said with a grin. “Meggy wanted John from the moment she first saw him and barely let him out of her sight ‘til she got him.”
“And they married?”
“Married with four children now and he always says he doesn’t know how he managed without her.”
With this tale in her mind, Ishbel headed down the curving staircase to the drawing room to meet Harriette, who looked her over and pronounced her appearance “acceptable”. The afternoon’s guests then began arriving, half a dozen in all, including Lady Tinbough whom Ishbel had not known was coming. Not wanting the other guests alerted of her investigation, Ishbel was relieved, although also a little surprised, when Lady Tinbough failed to mention the robbery or ask how close they were to finding the thief. Perhaps Harriette had warned her of the plan for the afternoon.
The Duke of Lothian was one of the last to appear and Ishbel watched with relief from the three-paned sash window as he pulled up in front of the house in a shiny phaeton and the two new white geldings. Harriette introduced Ishbel to him and the usual bow and curtsy were exchanged. He was a handsome man but Ishbel detected an autocratic look in his bright blue eyes and a sternness in the thick black brows over them.
She smiled up at him with what she hoped looked like admiration and said, “What beautiful horses you have brought with you.”
“It does you credit that you noticed their quality,” he said in a condescending tone. “They are new and must be two of the fastest thoroughbreds in Edinburgh. Perhaps you would allow me to demonstrate and ride you round the local park?”
That was the last thing she wanted so she said noncommittally, “How kind of you to suggest it,” then, before he could set a date for the excursion, asked the first thing that came into her head, “How are you enjoying the Season?”
“I spend half my time in London, which I prefer. I am a member of the Tory party and have been called on considerably for my opinion in connection with recent riots and the worsening situation in France.”
He looked at her as if expecting a response so she said, “How interesting,” while wondering how she could possibly steer the conversation to the awkward subject of his finances or lack thereof. She found herself wishing Mr MacPherson were here. He had a natural charm that she lacked. Then she recalled that he had not thought she could find out the necessary information from the duke and she determined to prove him wrong. “What activities do you enjoy in Edinburgh?” she asked then cursed herself as an idiot as he would hardly admit to liking the odd bit of burglary.
He did not react to her abrupt changes of subject, saying, “I enjoy the intellectual stimulus of conversing with such intelligent men as Lord Huntly and, equally, take great pleasure in the company of a beautiful woman.”
She gritted her teeth at the oft-heard implication that women were purely decorative then, thankfully, before she had to wrack her brains again, Harriette called them over to join the rest of the group, where, upon sitting down, they were presented with cups of tea.
“I hear that you enjoy gambling, Your Grace,” Harriette said to the duke. “I fear I have a bad habit of losing money every time I play cards so you must share any tips you have.”
“It is funny you should say that as I made a small fortune at faro last week,” he said. “You have to look at card games in a logical way that I fear is beyond most women but is not, I am sure, for Your Ladyship.”
“How kind,” Harriette said in a silky tone then threw a side glance at Ishbel to underscore the ease of her success at finding out what was needed in the face of Ishbel’s failure.
Ishbel glared at her teacup and wished she were anywhere but here where she was doing nothing more than look a fool and entertain Harriette.
Around her a conversation was begun on the subject of English lace versus French lace. It continued longer than she would have imagined possible then branched off into a discussion of hat styles. Time slowed down until she felt as if she had endured this nightmare for a lifetime.
Of only one thing was she certain: she would get her revenge on Harriette for this.
Chapter Sixteen
“WHAT DID you learn?” Ewan asked Miss Campbell the afternoon after their disagreement. After sleeping on it and discussing the matter with Rabbie, he had been able to admit to himself that he had reacted out of jealousy and he felt like a fool. He had been grateful to receive Miss Campbell’s note and was determined to behave in a rational manner from now on.
They were sitting in the library – a room she seemed to draw strength from – and she pursed her lips at this question before finally answering, “That I dislike dukes even more heartily than I currently dislike my cousin.”
“Ah.” He tried to keep to himself his
delight that the attractive duke had failed to impress her. “Then it did not go well?”
“I am afraid your assessment of my character was correct. I have no idea how to charm a man into telling me things.”
“I promise you I did not intend my reaction to indicate any such opinion,” he said, appalled that he had expressed himself so badly and upset her. His opinion was in fact the opposite: he could not imagine how anyone could fail to be charmed by her intelligence, kind nature and beauty. She certainly captivated him. “I simply did not want you to be put in a situation I thought you would dislike.”
“Dislike is too mild a word for it. I believe loathe does not even do my opinion of the afternoon justice.”
They both laughed and the tension in the room faded away. She then told him what her cousin had discovered and he said, “Then, if his recently gained money was indeed obtained at cards – which I can check – the Duke is not the thief.”
“It seems unlikely,” she said with a regret that indicated she had formed a reassuringly poor opinion of the man. “Our main suspects are, therefore, the lady’s maid who left Lady Tinbough’s employ so abruptly and the two tradesmen who called at the house. I do not rule out the other society visitors but, the questioning of them at the ball having caused some offence, perhaps we should not consider them again until we have ruled out the others. Do you agree?”
He nodded. “I do. Since I have not heard anything from the caddie who said he would look for the maid, should we speak to the tradesmen first?”
She glanced over at the table clock. “They will still be in their shops at this hour. If you do not have to prepare for any engagement perhaps we could visit them now.”
“I am entirely at your disposal,” he told her.
They ran into Lady Huntly on their way out and told her where they were going, Miss Campbell appearing to take great pleasure in her cousin’s disgruntled reaction: “Now? It is less than an hour until dinner and you need to change.”
