by Anne Greene
The surgeon visited daily, and the men, strong and healthy save for their wounds, were recovering nicely. Soon, Brody would take them to a different hiding place. He’d said they must keep moving, most likely back to a spot the English had already searched.
Difficult though it was, she must talk with Megan about her marriage. “Don’t you think it’s wonderful, what happens when a married man and woman are alone together?” She picked up the blue knitting she’d dropped on her lap, and her needles began to flash. She would ease into the subject of Avondale’s odd behavior.
Megan buried her nose in her rosebud.
When Megan didn’t answer, she asked, “Aren’t you happy with Brody? He loves you so much. I’ve never seen a man who has a harder time keeping his hands off his wife.”
“Humph.” Megan fished around in her tapestry bag, and pulled out some knitting. “Perhaps if Papa approved of Brody as much as he does Lord Avondale, I’d be more content.”
“How can you say that, Megan? Papa all but grovels over Brody. Your husband’s charmed our Papa until I scarcely recognize him.”
Megan shrugged. “I noticed the change in Papa.”
“Papa’s put Brody in charge of all our horse breeding. He loves the idea of the new thoroughbred horse Brody wants to breed from our English mares and our imported Arabians.”
Megan tossed her fiery hair. “I didn’t know about Brody’s new responsibilities, nor his innovative ideas. But I see how Papa values Brody’s opinion.”
Cailin dropped a stitch. “I’m surprised you didn’t know. I confess I feel guilty I’ve gotten to know Brody so well. He’s a really nice fellow. But, truly, all he speaks of is you.”
Megan tilted her head. “Really?” She raised her brows.
Cailin sighed.
Megan seemed to need reassurance about her marriage, too.
Perhaps Avondale’s silence was her fault. She’d just have to change. She peeked through her eyelashes at the handsome man talking with her father. He seemed to be getting on famously with Papa. In fact, Avondale got on well with everyone…except her. And she would soon be the mother of his child.
Her child, who would be confused by the different ways his father treated her. But then, her son would see only his father’s indifference. No, though she dreaded what the man might tell her about voices and finding himself in unknown places, she would have it out with Avondale. She would not permit him to treat her coldly in front of their child.
She wrinkled her nose. How had Avondale captivated Papa when she’d seen so little of him? The way the wind riffled his brown hair over his high forehead all but took her breath away. His looks and fitness called out to her. His strong intellect when he questioned the words she read to him each night from the Bible appealed to her. She was so pleased with the way his questions appeared less defensive, and his interest in what God had to say had grown.
Still, the man wore a mantle of protectiveness about him so strong it seemed to be his definitive trait. He’d been born to power and trained not to show weakness. Need appeared foreign to his make-up. Perhaps a public showing of love had also been bred out of him? She would not think of the voices again until he told her more. Perhaps she had misunderstood.
She studied the broad shoulders of the man who kept his distance in the daylight hours, but when moonlight filled the bedchamber he made an abrupt about-face and switched into the man of her dreams.
Except last night had been such an awful exception. No, she would not think of that now on this beautiful, sunlit day. Nor would she think of the nights he’d awakened with bad dreams.
Her heart twisted.
She glanced at Megan, who was staring at her with a strange, quizzical expression. Then comprehension sparked in her eyes. “You are afraid to birth your baby.”
“Well, having a baby is rather a frightening prospect.”
Megan shook her head so vigorously that pins fell out of her shining copper curls. She dropped her tangled knitting to pin them back in. “Papa will bring in the best surgeons.”
“Yes, of course, he will. But there is always so much danger.” For now, she’d not share her concerns about Avondale with Megan. Somehow, speaking about the baby made it far too difficult to talk about Avondale’s oddities. She would find another time.
Her sister fidgeted on the woven reed seat. “Now that you’ve gotten to know your husband better, do you think Lord Avondale will betray Brody to the Duke of Cumberland? I hear even some Lowland men who weren’t anywhere near the battlefield have been hauled off to prison.” Megan ran fingers through her long hair and flipped the breeze-teased tresses over her shoulder. “As of yesterday, there’s a reward of a hundred pounds on the head of each of Bonny Prince Charlie’s fugitive soldiers.”
“Good heavens, Megan. Is that what’s been bothering you? Why didn’t you say so? You’ve been mooning around the castle all week. I thought you and Brody had a spat.” Cailin shook out her knitting. “My answer remains as I told you the day after you wed. I doubt Avondale would turn Brody in. He respects Brody.” But how well did she know her husband with his strange personality quirks? Now that Avondale’s aides had returned to court, what did Avondale think? She must watch and see. She would warn Brody if she caught even a hint of Avondale’s alerting the English soldiers.
Papa clapped his hand on Avondale’s broad shoulder and left it there.
“Papa’s never treated me with that openly fond look, no matter what I’ve done to try to earn his love,” Megan whispered.
Cailin breathed in the sweet fragrance of the roses twined overhead. How had Avondale managed? She dropped a stitch. The same masterful way he clouded her thoughts. The sun turned his brown eyes into spicy cinnamon. She shook her head. Just looking at him made her stomach flutter. How could she be so foolish when he harbored such a problem?
Avondale turned to the arbor as if he could feel her gaze. Oh, she so well appreciated his bold, clean features, and his proud carriage. She sighed. Avondale was indeed courtly. His aristocratic presence could fill any area. When he entered a room the atmosphere changed. She didn’t have to turn to see him. She found herself unbearably aware of him. If only he would acknowledge her.
He didn’t.
Pain stabbed her heart. This constant upset couldn’t be good for the baby. She must focus on her sister’s problem and calm herself.
She leaned closer to Megan. “You have such dark circles under your eyes. Are you and Brody having difficulties? He hasn’t said anything.”
“Of course not.”
“I’m so glad.”
Her sister wasn’t telling the truth. Perhaps later Megan would confide in her. If she wasn’t ready yet, nothing would convince her to speak. Cailin wrinkled her brow. Since Avondale was never at home, when she was at loose ends, she and Brody just coincidentally met. “Brody’s so obviously in love with you.”
“Is he now?”
“He is. But marriage does take a good bit of understanding and flexibility.” She gazed at Avondale. If only she could puzzle out the mystery of his different personalities. How could a man be so complex?
Megan shivered hard enough to vibrate the arbor. “Since you love Avondale so, mayhap I’m mistaken in my interpretation of your husband’s attitude. He seems a bit fearsome to me.”
Suddenly Cailin felt totally out of sorts. “I never saw happiness in Mums and Papa. Not even affection. Perhaps your marriage is one in a million.” She stuck her finger with her knitting needle. “Brody is so attentive to you.” She hesitated. “And you’re so cool in return. You must make an effort.”
“And, what of you? The servants told me of Lord Avondale’s wild episode.”
Cailin sighed. So, news about Avondale’s misadventure had gotten around. Finally the subject had been broached. “Dear Megan. I’m glad you know. Marriages aren’t all joy and happiness. We marry for better, or for worse. Perhaps, wedding vows might be better worded, that we marry for better and worse. No one is perfect, but the
Bible tells us that love covers a multitude of sins. For his sake, we must keep the matter quiet.”
She bit her lip. Had Megan spoken of where Avondale was last night…or had she referred to one of his earlier episodes?
She didn’t want to know the details of where her husband had been last night.
17
The three carriages turned from the main road into Castle Drummond’s long drive.
Cailin pushed open the window of her bedchamber and leaned out. Guests already half-filled their twenty guest rooms. Evidently titled English gentry thought nothing of overstaying their welcome. But surely her mother-in-law would not need three carriages for a brief over-night visit. Was this gloom she couldn’t overcome good for the baby? Probably not.
Clattering and crunching on the gravel, creaking of the carriages, and shouts of “whoa” filled the air.
Servants ran to service the newcomers.
She pulled her head back inside, smoothed her day gown, and tucked errant curls into the brown velvet band around her head. She sighed deeply, straightened her shoulders, and forced her low-heeled slippers to move in the direction of the door.
She had invited the dowager. Now she must get some answers.
Slowly she descended the main staircase and pasted on a smile.
The servants were still ushering the visitors into the drawing room. She entered directly behind them.
“Milady, where should we take all these trunks?”
“George, take the dowager’s trunks to the large, yellow guest room. I shall have to sort out what else goes where later.” She laid a hand on the tiny flutter in her stomach. Had breakfast disagreed with her?
Five elegant ladies gazed at her. She walked directly to the dowager who was already ensconced on the wine velvet settee at the center of a cluster of chairs in the comfortable room. She curtsied and took Avondale’s mother’s extended ring-covered hand. “I’m so pleased you could come.”
The dowager smiled a genuine and very kind smile.
A spray of joy radiated through Cailin. She motioned to the other ladies. “Please do be seated.” And she sat on the edge of a chair facing her mother-in-law.
“May I introduce Lady Jane, Lady Sarah, Lady Marie, and Lady Anne?” the dowager nodded to each lady in turn. Each of the much younger ladies nodded, smiled, and settled straight-backed and poised into their chairs.
“My friends did not wish me to travel alone.”
“Of course not. And you all are most welcome. I do recognize each of you from my wedding and I’m so pleased you could come.” She glanced at her butler standing just inside the door. “Please serve low tea. I’m sure the ladies would like some refreshment.”
Each woman nodded and murmured appropriate answers.
“And, George, please put the ladies’ trunks in the room they used during the wedding week.”
George hastened off. His low voice issuing orders floated back into the drawing room.
The dowager perched her pince-nez on the bridge of her nose and peered at her as if she was a prize mare. “Dear Cailin. We shall only be staying the night. We are on our journey back to court. The king has summoned us, and we shall not want to keep him waiting.” She smiled and patted Cailin’s hand with her wrinkled, warm one as if they had been close friends for years.
Cailin stifled a gasp. Was this the same woman who had been so snobbish? This was a woman she could take into her heart and perhaps even confide in. Did opposite personalities residing in one body run in the duke’s family? Why hadn’t this woman been as gracious and accepting at the wedding? “Certainly you don’t want to keep the king waiting, but you are welcome to stay as long as visiting here suits you.” She offered a heart-felt smile. “You are a part of my family now, and I love having you here with us.”
The dowager beamed. Her entire face radiated warmth. “My dear, I was so very pleased when you wrote you carried Avondale’s heir.” Her ample chest expanded. “I am elated.” She brushed at a tear caught in a wrinkle at the corner of her hazel eye. “You are an exemplary wife. I am quite proud of you.”
Warmth heated Cailin’s cheeks and rushed all the way down to her neckline. So, that was why the woman had changed.
“You are so delicate appearing, I feared you might have problems getting in the family way.” She glanced at her ladies. “I took the liberty of bringing my own mid-wife. She has delivered a healthy babe during a difficult birth even when the mother so unfortunately passed.”
Cailin swallowed.
Obviously in a choice of saving either the mother or the child, the mid-wife had been instructed to save the oh-so-valuable heir. A son could not be replaced, but a wife so easily could.
Her stomach fluttered again. She forced a smile. If lives were in danger, she too would make that same choice and save her child. Already her love for her unborn baby was paramount in her life. Not because he was an heir, but simply because she loved him.
“Thank you, Dowager Duchess. I am happy you are so very thoughtful. I’m more than grateful you brought her.” She clasped cold hands together and gazed at the four ladies staring at her.
The one with the steely glint in her eye held up a stern finger. “I have had much experience in birthing.”
“Ah, Lady Anne. I believe I have heard rumors to that effect.”
“Yes, my skill is well-known. I shall be staying throughout your confinement and shall oversee your delivery.”
“I’m grateful. But, of course, my father is also bringing in our family surgeon. I’m certain he will be glad of your help.” Why did she feel as if a net was being drawn around her?
“You will find I can assist greatly in your day-to-day care.” Lady Anne’s smile, the way she sat with her shoulders back and hands clasping her fan, and her school-master expression showed she would allow no objections to her ministrations.
Cailin’s neck tensed.
The most robust of the four ladies nodded. “And I am quite well-known in court as the most capable person in England to oversee a wet nurse. I shall be taking over the heir’s care as soon as Lady Anne delivers him.”
Cailin’s mouth dropped. She failed to hide her involuntary shudder. “Thank you so much, Lady Sarah, but I am perfectly capable of nursing my own child. And I shall be responsible for his care myself.”
“Tsk tsk, Cailin. No duchess takes on those onerous duties.” Her mother-in-law patted Cailin’s hand. “My dear, you will be so happy to have the help I’m providing. You will find birthing a baby is exhausting, and my ladies are the best in England.” She rose, and warm, flabby arms embraced Cailin’s shoulders. “My ladies will oversee your diet and make certain you do not overtax yourself. I myself shall return after the king’s Christmas ball in time to be included in the heir’s birth.” She smiled around the room. “And, of course, Cailin will move into a separate bedchamber. Sometime men forget how delicate a mother-to-be’s condition is, and insist on her wifely duty.” She beamed. “We shall have none of that inside this castle.”
Cailin gasped. She could not force out a word.
“I’m overtired after my trip. I shall forego tea and go directly to my room.” The royal mother’s jeweled hand squeezed Cailin’s arm. “And you, my daughter, look a bit pale. I strongly suggest you take to your bed.”
Were her feet rooted to the carpet? Was her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth? She wanted answers to save her marriage. Instead a tyrant had moved into the castle.
George brought in the tea things. The scent of jasmine tea sent her stomach into a roil. She’d not had the morning sickness. And definitely not in mid-afternoon, but she must hurry to find a chamber pot.
****
As morning sun shone through the long hall windows, Cailin rapped her knuckles on the dowager’s door.
“My maid has finished packing. You may come inside and take my trunk to my carriage,” the dowager called through the closed door.
“It’s Cailin. May I have a private word with you before you tak
e your leave?”
Faint rustling floated through the carved wood, and then the door burst open. “Of course, my dear. Come inside.” A look of implacable determination tightened her mother-in-law’s face.
Cailin walked inside and the woman motioned her to take a chair. She perched on the edge and opened her mouth.
“You do look better this morning. Lady Anne and Lady Sarah are seeing to your welfare, I trust.”
“Yes.” Cailin cleared her throat. “Actually they are—”
“You will become accustomed to their help. I suggest you relax and leave everything in their capable hands.” The dowager strode to the window and gazed out. “Where is that servant of yours? I’m sure you don’t let your people get away with incompetence. I really must be on my way.”
“He will be here shortly. I—”
“The horses and carriage are waiting.”
“Yes, but I really must have a word with you.” Cailin rose and joined her mother-in-law at the window.
Below them the horses were indeed pawing the gravel with impatience.
She put a hand on the older woman’s arm. “Avondale is behaving in quite a strange fashion. I hope you can advise me.”
The woman sighed, plodded over to a chair and dropped into it as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. “What strange behavior?”
Cailin sat on a chair facing her. She straightened her shoulders, gazed into the troubled hazel eyes opposite her, and related everything about Avondale that puzzled and upset her. “Has he ever had strange dreams and fears?”
The dowager reached out and took her hand. “I’m so sorry, my dear.” She lowered her head and peeled off her gloves. “Geoffrey showed signs of being a bit odd as a young man. Still, almost until he reached his majority he was fairly normal.” She sighed. “Then he had spells where he seemed a different person.” She shook her head. “I think the problems started with the accident on his horse. He and a group of his friends were following the hounds chasing a fox. His big hunter refused a hedge and Geoffrey sailed over his head and landed on the other side. He was still unconscious when they brought him back to the estate.”
