Sinful Scottish Laird--A Historical Romance Novel

by Julia London

  His brother groaned but instructed his first mate to off-load the goods they meant to trade.

  Cailean next sought out Willie Mackenzie. The man was more than happy to look after Arrandale and Auchenard for the princely sum of ten pounds. Cailean brought Fabienne and Odin to Balhaire, and as he walked from the great hall that day after saying goodbye to his family, Fabienne, napping before the hearth with other Mackenzie dogs, scarcely lifted her head.

  Remarkably, within a fortnight of speaking with his father, Cailean had arrived at Norwood Park, the northern estate where his mother had been raised and where her marriage to his father had been arranged. They all knew the story—his mother had fled Scotland soon after she’d married, but her father had sent her back to Balhaire three years later to determine if Arran Mackenzie was plotting against the throne.

  The idea was laughable—there was not a better man than Arran Mackenzie. Which, thankfully, his mother had also realized. Unfortunately, her father, Lord Norwood, and her oldest brother, Bryce Armstrong, were not good men. Lord Norwood was the traitor, and he was convicted of conspiring against the Crown. Bryce Armstrong was stripped of his hereditary rights. His mother’s half brother, Knox Armstrong, was made Lord Norwood and given all that entailed.

  Cailean arrived at Norwood Park in the midst of a soiree, which, his mother had warned him, was not uncommon since Knox had come to assume the title. The ride from port to Norwood Park had not been an easy one, and Cailean was bone weary and covered with the grime of the road. He asked the butler to show him to a private room so that he’d not disturb the guests.

  As he followed the butler to a private salon, however, he caught sight of a familiar face. Poppy Beauly—now Lady Prudhome—was sitting in a chair, talking to another woman. He knew her instantly, though this was the first time he’d seen her since the day she’d rejected his offer. Her face still clung to some of the beauty from her youth, but there were dark shadows under her eyes, and her hair was graying. She’d softened and widened with time.

  Cailean ducked into the small receiving room, certain she hadn’t seen him. He hadn’t been to England since that summer, and now, having seen her, he felt like a fool. What had kept him from it all these years? That haggard woman?

  Uncle Knox entered by throwing the door open and toddling into the room, slightly drunk and much rounder than the last time Cailean had seen him. “Cailean!” he exclaimed with his usual vigor.

  Cailean had fond memories of Knox, the congenial uncle who had always been quick to hug and quick to shove ale into one’s hand. Even now he threw his arms around Cailean and hugged him tightly, bouncing him around a bit. “You look well indeed! A grown man, are you, and a laird now—how about that? Soon to sit on the throne of the Mackenzies, I’ve heard. Well, I am very glad to see you. I thought you’d never come down out of those hills!”

  “Neither did I,” Cailean agreed.

  Uncle Knox went to the sideboard and poured two drams of whisky, then handed one to Cailean. He touched his glass to Cailean’s and said, “To old times,” and tossed it down his throat. “Now then, your mother’s messenger arrived only yesterday.”

  “My mother sent a messenger?” Cailean asked, unaware of it.

  “Certainly!” Uncle Knox bellowed, smiling jovially. “She was resolved that I should understand her instructions explicitly and do as she bade me,” he said with a courtly bow and laughed. “I sent the messenger back straightaway with one of my own. My dearest Margot, I said, you wound me with your distrust. Of course my nephew may have all that he needs in pursuit of whatever he is pursuing,” he said with a flourish of his hand. “My guess is a woman?”

  Cailean flushed.

  His uncle laughed with delight. “To all things there is a season,” he said. “Now then, I’d invite you in, but you look a shambles, and, besides, your last attempt at marital felicity attends me this evening.”

  “Aye, I saw Lady Prudhome,” Cailean said.

  “Her husband is a drunkard, you know,” Uncle Knox whispered conspiratorially as he rummaged around a drawer in the desk. “Ah, here it is! The key to your kingdom, as it were. At least the key to my London townhome. I’ve not been there in an age, and I’m afraid you’ll have to make do without a proper staff, but old Bussey is there, and he’ll mind you. I’ll just dash off a note of introduction. We have much to discuss, naturally. You’ll need some letters of introduction, lest you encounter some corrupt business. There are those who don’t care for Scotsmen.”

  “Aye, I am aware,” Cailean said.

  Uncle Knox handed the key to Cailean, then glanced down at Cailean’s clothing. He wrinkled his nose.

  Cailean looked down, too. “It’s the dirt of the road.”

  “It’s not that, my good man,” Uncle Knox said. “It’s your dress. You can’t dress like a Highland savage here. Don’t take offense. You’re certainly not a savage, but they will think you are. I’m sure I’ve something that will suit you. Come along, then. My valet is probably diddling a maid downstairs. We’ll go and have a bit of fun, won’t we, make him pull up his breeches and outfit you properly? We’ll make an Englishman of you yet!”

  Cailean’s head was spinning. He was hungry and fatigued, and he was not exactly besotted with the idea of appearing as an Englishman. He followed his uncle out of the room and forgot to notice Poppy at all.

  Three days later, properly outfitted, with a fresh horse, and letters of introduction tucked into his coat pocket, Cailean started for London.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  IT FELT TO DAISY as if the return voyage to England had taken twice as long as the voyage up, when in fact, it was two days shorter in length. Robert complained about the ship’s navigation—it lacked the finesse of the Royal Navy—but he addressed the MacDonalds and their crew with restrained civility. He kept his sword at his side and said he slept poorly, as he expected to be set upon by the Scotsmen in the night.

  But he was attentive of Daisy and her family, and as they neared England, Daisy tried, she really did try, to rekindle the feelings she’d carried for him for so long, to put aside her misgivings about his true intentions. What did it matter? His intentions were the same as every other man’s in London. At least she knew Robert. At least she knew what to expect from him. What did it matter that his touch now left her cold, or that he instructed Ellis at every turn? It could be much worse with a stranger, couldn’t it?

  But it was no use—Daisy couldn’t think of anything other than Cailean.

  “Does the voyage make you ill?” Belinda had asked her from the cramped cabin they shared aboard the ship.

  “Ill? No,” Daisy said, slowly shaking her head as if trying to dispel a heavy sleep.

  Belinda didn’t say more—in fact, she was unusually quiet during the journey to London—but she kept a fretful eye on Daisy. That only made Daisy’s agony worse. She wanted only to wallow in her misery, unnoticed, uninterrupted. But she felt as if she had to maintain her composure so that her family, and Robert, would not worry, would not ask her at every turn if she was all right. She would never be all right. She would never be the same again.

  It was a gusty night when they at last reached London and the Chatwick town house on Audley Street at half past eleven. Daisy was exhausted, and she allowed Robert to carry Ellis up to his room, where one of the chambermaids was on hand to put him to bed. Belinda excused herself, too, and wearily climbed the stairs.

  Robert joined Daisy in the salon. He didn’t show any signs of fatigue. It was as if he’d never journeyed at all and had been waiting in this salon for her for days. “You are fatigued, my poor little dear,” he said. “Now, I want you to get a good night’s sleep.” He clasped her shoulders. “I’ll call on you on the morrow, and we will speak of our future.” He smiled, as if that ought to send her off to sweet dreams.

  “Where are you going?” she asked
curiously. He’d been under her roof for so long now that in some respects, it felt as if they’d already said their vows.

  “To the club. It is one thing to be your guest in the backwater hills of Scotland, but it wouldn’t be proper for me to remain under the same roof with you here.”

  She was too tired to argue and merely nodded, accepted his kiss and walked him to the door.

  Daisy was exhausted, but she did not sleep well. Her bed felt too soft somehow, and she tossed and turned in it. She dreamed that she and Ellis were in her garden at Auchenard, and she was planting new roses. Cailean was there, too. But in that state between sleep and consciousness, she realized it wasn’t a dream; it was a wish. She wasn’t asleep at all—her sorrow kept her floating above the surface as her unspoken wish played out in her mind’s eye.

  She did eventually find sleep, however, because she was rudely startled awake by a shake to her shoulder. It was Belinda looming over her. “Dearest!” she whispered. “Are you unwell?”

  “No. I don’t think so,” Daisy said groggily and pushed herself up, forcing Belinda back. She winced at the pain behind her eyes. “Why?”

  “It’s two o’clock. Captain Spivey is calling at two, and Bishop Craig sent word that he shall call at half past two.”

  Daisy opened her eyes. “What?” she exclaimed and scampered out of the bed.

  “I hope it is only fatigue,” Belinda said as she threw open Daisy’s wardrobe and began to search for a gown. “And not some horrible foreign disease. Those ships carry them round like cargo.”

  “I’m not ill. I’m...” Daisy’s voice trailed off.

  Belinda paused what she was doing and glanced over her shoulder.

  Daisy swallowed back a sob. “Resigned,” she said softly.

  She scarcely had time to dress and to eat a little something before Robert arrived. He had on a fresh set of clothing and had donned a periwig. He strolled into her salon with his tricorne tucked up under one arm. His smile was ebullient as he clicked his heels and bowed formally. “How do you do, Lady Chatwick? You look well,” he said. “London agrees with you.”

  She thought she looked gaunt and weary. “Thank you,” she said, peering at him uncertainly. “You look as if you’ve dined with the king.”

  He laughed. “Not the king. But I have been to call on Bishop Craig this morning.”

  Daisy froze. So soon? They’d scarcely set foot in London, and he’d already gone to Bishop Craig? “I beg your pardon?” she said, her voice betraying her panic.

  Robert arched a brow. “Darling, you must realize that word of your return—in my company—will spread quickly. I took the liberty of telling the bishop of our journey and...our understanding.”

  Daisy’s belly clenched. She caught the back of the settee before she collapsed, as she felt her knees might give way. “You shouldn’t have done that,” she said. “You shouldn’t have, Robert.”

  He blinked. He laughed nervously. “Of course I should have. One does not share a voyage with a gentleman unless one has an understanding. And if she didn’t have one before, she certainly has one when she returns to London.”

  “I shared a voyage with my family and with your protection—that is not an understanding. If it were so, I’d be affianced to Sir Nevis now.”

  Robert slowly put his tricorne aside. “Then allow me to offer my apology,” he said carefully, treating her as if she were a crazed woman. “Would you like to know the bishop’s response?”

  She looked at him warily.

  Robert smiled. “He was impressed with my connections and my letters of recommendation.”

  “Your letters of recommendation,” she repeated, not understanding.

  “Of course I have them—a man of my standing must come armed to offer marriage to a woman of your standing. I presented a letter from Admiral Kensing and Lord Woodhouse.”

  “Lord Woodhouse? Is that not the estate where your father resides as vicar?”

  Robert nodded.

  “You received these letters today?” she asked, trying to make sense of how he’d managed to procure them so quickly.

  “No, darling. I received these letters before I embarked for Scotland.”

  “Before,” she repeated.

  Robert’s smiling expression changed. He rubbed his forehead as if he was trying to work out a difficult puzzle. “I don’t think you understand, Daisy. Before I could speak to you, before I could even entertain the idea of offering for you, I had to make sure I would not be denied. I thought you would appreciate the lengths to which I went to give us a happy future.”

  Daisy pressed her hands to her face a moment, disbelieving the lengths he’d gone to. He was either entirely too presumptuous to call on the bishop without her knowledge, or he had knit together his plan to put his hands on her fortune. Whatever the reason, she couldn’t prolong this any further. “I wish you hadn’t done so, Robert. You presume too much.”

  His hopeful smile faltered. He folded his arms. “If you have something to say to me, then please do say it.”

  She gathered her courage. “I don’t... I don’t have the same feelings for you that I once did,” she said simply.

  Robert did not seem particularly surprised. In fact, he shrugged as if that were a trifling matter. “I am aware that your esteem lies with someone else. It has been obvious.”

  Stunned, she waited for him to say more. When he didn’t, she asked, “Does that not change your opinion?”

  He smiled a little and shook his head. “Quite obviously, I would prefer if you held the same regard for me. And if my offer for your hand was to be made solely on the basis of compatibility and esteem, then perhaps I should be offended. But an offer for your hand has more to do with your son, does it not?”

  Daisy gaped at him. Quite clearly he didn’t feel the same about her as he once had, either. “It has as much to do with me as it does my son. My feelings must be considered.”

  Robert laughed softly, and Daisy’s blood turned cold. He moved toward her, a smug bit of a smile on his face. When he reached her, he touched her earring, then let his hand drop to her shoulder. “Lady Chatwick, if you believe that you will hie off and marry your Highland thief, you are mistaken. The bishop would never allow it. Certainly I will not allow it. I know where the worst of the free traders are. I know an admiral who would be much delighted to have the information. If you do not accept my offer, he will have the whereabouts of Mackenzie within a fortnight. Your...infatuation...will be brought up on charges of free trading and made to pay the price. If I were you, I would think carefully before you refuse me.”

  Daisy glared at him, her heart racing with fury. She saw Robert for what he was now, and very clearly at that. “How dare you,” she said, her voice shaking with anger. “It is none of your concern whom I marry, and if you think your threats will persuade me to act differently, you are very much mistaken.”

  His expression turned darker, and he frowned at her as if she were an unruly child. “Is there a better alternative for you? Will you marry someone you scarcely know? Or will you pine away for a bloody Scot?”

  “I won’t marry someone I don’t love,” she said. “And I don’t love you, Robert. Please go.”

  Robert snorted. “You are as naive as you ever were, Daisy. You will not marry for love—you will marry for advantage. Perhaps the bishop might put some sense into your head,” he said and walked across the room, preparing to take his leave. “By the by,” he said, pausing at the door. “You might want to know that I have made the bishop aware you might be a bit reluctant, due to your blatant and misguided admiration of a Scot free trader.” He threw open the door and went out, slamming the door behind him.

  Daisy trembled with rage as she slowly sank onto the settee, trying to catch her breath. She felt heartsick and furious. She didn’t care who Bishop Craig wou
ld recommend to her now. She didn’t care, but she would never marry Robert. He would never touch her fortune.

  She wondered if there was some way she could get word to Cailean about his threats. She wanted desperately to speak to Uncle Alfonso, but he’d gone to Chatwick Hall to attend to some matters there.

  As she tried to think of what to do, the door opened and Ellis’s head appeared, peeking around it. Daisy managed a smile. “Come here, darling.”

  Ellis ran to her, throwing his arms around her to hug her. He was wearing a cloak, and Belinda walked in behind him, dressed to go out, as well.

  “Where are you going?” Daisy asked as she nuzzled her son’s neck.

  “For a walk,” he said.

  “He needs to use his legs after spending such a very long time in a coach and on that wretched boat,” Belinda added. “Mrs. Cooper’s son lay in a bed for a full year with a fever and never was able to walk properly again after a long voyage.”

  Daisy smiled wearily. “Then by all means, you must walk,” she said and straightened Ellis’s neckcloth. She winked at her son. “I hereby command you to have your walk with Cousin Belinda every day.”

  “Aye, Mamma.”

  Oh, how that expression made her ache for Ellis, too—Scotland had not yet left him, either.

  “Unless, of course, you’d prefer I stay and receive the bishop with you?” Belinda asked.

  “No, thank you,” Daisy said. “It is best I hear his news alone. I’ll need time to swallow it whole before supper, won’t I?” She sighed and hugged Ellis to her, looking at Belinda over the top of his head. “I refused Captain Spivey’s offer of marriage.”

  Belinda was stunned, her eyes widening. Even Ellis looked up at Daisy with an expression of astonishment. Daisy smiled and tucked a bit of his hair away from his face. “You do recall that I explained to you that I must remarry, don’t you? It’s what your father wanted for you.”

  Ellis nodded.

  “Captain Spivey wanted to marry me and take care of you,” she said, lying about the true nature of his intentions. “But I don’t love him and I don’t want to marry him.”