All You Could Ask For

by Angeline Fortin

  “I will be glad to pay,” Francis told him in all honesty. “I knew all along there was an exception to every rule. I should’ve known better than to bet against her.”

  Chapter 22

  Journeys end in lovers meeting,

  Every wise man’s son doth know.

  ~ William Shakespeare from Twelfth Night

  Moira and Eve were again ensconced in the corner, chatting after dinner when Jack joined them some minutes before the other men. The look he gave Eve roused her curiosity but, rather than question him about it, Eve brought up another topic that had been niggling in the back of her mind. It had occurred to her that, if Jack wanted a wealthy heiress, then Moira should be just the ticket for him and asked him about it after he joined them.

  Surprisingly, Jack shuddered. “Alas, as wealthy as she is, I could no more marry Moira than my own sister. She’s a brat to say the least, and I’ve known her since she was a young child. Having seen her in short skirts and with her hair in plaits, I cannot contemplate the prospect of taking her as my wife.”

  “Yet Richard had no problems taking Abby as his wife, and he had known her just as long,” Eve pointed out. “Perhaps you should reconsider?”

  Jack arched a brow as he eyed Moira, and she stuck out her tongue at him. Shaking his head, he laughed, “It would simply not do. But fear not, fair maiden., I will pursue you no longer.” He put a hand to his chest and gave her a semblance of a bow from his seated position.

  “You won’t?” Eve asked skeptically, somewhat ashamed that he saw so readily through her blatant attempt to provide him with another fox to hunt.

  The other men joined them in the parlor then, and Francis made a beeline for them, not bothering to look casual about it and in time to hear Jack’s response.

  “It has come to my attention that the bonds of friendship are stronger than the needs of my pocketbook,” he intoned dramatically, but she understood the implied message. For his friendship with Francis, he would leave her be. If nothing else, that was something for which she owed Francis her thanks.

  Francis clapped him on the back. “The bonds of friendship must indeed be strong. I still cannot imagine you would give up on the fortune of Lelan Preston.”

  “Lelan Preston?” Jack’s brow creased. “The American?” His brow cleared, and he looked Eve over again. “No, you’re that…”

  Francis could easily see where his friend’s thoughts were racing and winced at supplying new incentive for his friend to resume his pursuit. “You didn’t know?” He shared a look with Eve who cringed at the prospect of a renewed courtship from the earl.

  “Of course, I didn’t know.” Haddington contemplated Eve again stroking his chin.

  “Bonds of friendship, Jack.”

  “But…”

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Well, I thank you for ruining my evening,” Jack huffed miserably. “Some music would be welcome, I think. Do you play the piano, Lady Shaftesbury?”

  “Only very badly.”

  Jack rose, slapping his knee, and held a hand to Moira. “Come then, brat. Play for us. I know you can do so well. Something with a spiritual uplifting would be appreciated. I’ll even turn the pages for you.”

  “Oh, very well,” Moira replied with playful reluctance, taking his hand and leaving Eve and Francis to themselves.

  “I hope he doesn’t decide to forsake your friendship and pursue me once more,” Eve said at length.

  “You really don’t like him?”

  “Not one bit.”

  “He probably wouldn’t make a very good husband anyway.”

  “Most definitely not.”

  She sat in silence for a moment, aware that she and Francis were essentially alone here in the corner of the room. It was not an uncomfortable silence. Indeed, it was almost too comfortable. He was lightly caressing her hand where it lay hidden in the folds of her black brocade skirts. He toyed with her fingers and caressed her palm, sending shivers of excitement through her. How amazing that such a simple contact could so disturb yet calm her.

  Francis’ thoughts were not so calm. Here was his opening. Jack might not make a good spouse for Eve, but Francis knew he would. Hopefully, she would recognize that as well. Drawing a deep breath, he started to form the words, but—

  “What is it P.T. Barnum said? There’s a sucker born every minute? That’s what marriage makes you. And really, why would any woman marry again if she didn’t have to?” Eve asked softly, staring across the room. “Putting oneself voluntarily under the thumb of another? Becoming another’s possession once more?” A little shudder ran through her before she turned her attention to him. “You feel the same, don’t you? After all the sorrow your marriage brought you, surely you would never want to wed again?”

  The earl could do little more than offer a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know anymore, Eden. There might be possibilities that you aren’t considering.”

  “I can’t imagine what might motivate one to do so.” A corner of her mouth quirked up in a slightly sad smile. “We’ll be going back to Edinburgh in the morning, and you’ll return to Glen Cairn.” She turned the conversation. “I will leave by the end of the week to return to England. I’ve so enjoyed the time we have spent together, Francis. In all these years I never dreamed of seeing you again.”

  With that, all his plans seemed to have been neatly sidestepped, though she couldn’t possibly have known what he intended for them. She wrapped it up with a tidy retreat back into her safe world where there was no chance anything would change. But a new resolve hardened in Francis.

  She might think this was the end for them, that he would just let her walk away from him again, but Francis had no intention of letting that happen. She was his. And if he had to breech every defense Eve had built around her since her husband’s death, he would. He was willing to fight for a future with her.

  Their future.

  One that would not be about possession or ownership, but about love, respect and passion.

  Let the campaign begin.

  Part 3

  Chapter 23

  Glen Cairn Manor

  Glenrothes, Scotland

  Francis ambled into the front hall of his manor at Glen Cairn early the next afternoon. It had been a pleasant morning. After taking his breakfast with Eve, they’d taken a short stroll down to the beach to say their goodbyes.

  The dear lass actually thought he was going to let her move on with her life without him. He’d revealed nothing of his plans, just kissed her hand softly as he had handed her into the carriage that would take her and the rest of his family to the train station and back to Edinburgh. He imagined her surprise when he caught up with her there in a couple of days, but first he needed his mother’s ring so that he could propose properly.

  And he intended to make her miss him a bit before he showed up.

  He whistled softly to himself as he tossed his coat to the waiting butler.

  “Master James arrived moments ago, my lord,” Godfrey, who had returned to the manor the previous evening, intoned dourly, careful not to let any of his own opinions show.

  “Jamie’s here?" Glenrothes asked in surprise. James had left the house party the previous day to return to Edinburgh to continue the seduction of the young widow he had begun wooing at Raven’s Craig. Must be that his attempts had failed if he returned home so quickly.

  “That is what I said,” came the sour reply. “He’s taking luncheon in the family dining room.”

  The earl walked merrily into the small dining room. Flinging himself into a nearby chair, and nearly startling James out of his, he snatched a piece of beef from his brother's plate. “What are you doing here? Thought you’d gone back to Edinburgh. Did your wooing not work out as you hoped?”

  “Good afternoon to you also.” James eyed his eldest brother suspiciously. “You seem in rather high spirits this day.”

  “I have every reason to be.”

  “Richard wired me that you wo
uld be returning to Edinburgh in a few days. I thought you would remain at Glen Cairn for the Season again this year, but apparently you have other pursuits on your mind.”

  The elder MacKintosh frowned at the clear reprimand in his brother’s words. “Why are you here, brother?”

  James shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He’d ridden hard all morning to get here after receiving his brother’s wire the previous day that he would be travelling to Edinburgh soon. And, aye, he was tired and irritable from not yet winning the fair widow.

  Skirting the question momentarily, he asked instead, “Have you considered what your continued pursuit of the countess might do to her reputation?” He raised his hand to stop his brother from interrupting. “I'm sure you know that Abby considers Lady Shaftesbury very highly, and she is concerned for the countess’ reputation. Your attention to her at the ball has already been noted around town and, given your seclusion of recent years, any further pursuit of the lady will cause gossip. Your very presence in the city will cause comment, I’m sure.”

  Francis knew all this was true but felt that, with honorable intentions, all would be forgiven when he and Eve wed. “Abby put you up to this? I have already talked to Richard about my plans. You know—”

  James interrupted him. “Soon people are going to be talking behind her back. Don’t you care how that affects her? Maybe it would be best, for her sake, if you just called it off now before things turn for the worst.”

  “Call it off?” Glenrothes leapt up from his chair knocking it over, stunning James. His entire life Francis had been a rock for the family. He’d been a supportive brother after the deaths of their parents, a father to the younger ones who had never known another. He’d suffered the humiliation his wife had dealt him with amazing stoicism and had always, always been a voice of calm and reason in every situation. Never had he imagined his brother to be capable of so much emotion. “Call it off? Are your wits completely addled, man? She’s everything to me.” He slapped both hands to his chest and stomped away from the table, angry at himself for making such a bold admission to his brother.

  Just before he got to the door, James’ voice cut softly through his rage.

  “Vanessa’s back in town, brother.”

  Francis stopped abruptly and turned back to face James who now stood by the table. “What?”

  “She’s back. I thought you’d rather hear it from family.” James’ eyes were full of sympathy. “She’s currently ensconced at your townhouse and has been for most of the week. Quite a surprise when I got there. Had to take a room at a hotel to avoid her. I left word for everyone to stay at Richard’s for the time being, but I thought you’d want to know and perhaps spare Lady Shaftesbury her presence and sharp tongue.”

  Astonished, Francis fell into the nearest chair and covered his face with his hands. He leaned back and laughed humorlessly at the ceiling. “I thought I’d finally paid her enough to leave permanently. Damn!” He picked up a nearby candelabrum and flung it across the room. “What happened? Did her latest lover abandon her?”

  “Died, I believe.”

  “The bitch. I won’t have her come back here now and ruin my life again. Her presence will resurrect all the old gossip. How am I supposed to ask Eve to marry me with that bitch lingering over my shoulder?” Francis ran his hands through his hair.

  “Marry you!” His brother dropped back into his chair, astounded by the admission. “My God, man, I thought you were just trying to seduce her. It never occurred to me that you might think of marrying her. You haven’t asked her yet? Well, there is that at least. Perhaps the scandal will not come to her despite rumors of your flirtation from the engagement party. Nessa could rip a lass like the countess apart in moments.”

  Francis knew that was the truth. Vanessa Fane was a tough old bird. If she were in town when his marriage to Eve was announced, she’d raise all the hell she could and give Eve no mercy. No, he couldn’t simply let Vanessa ruin everything now. But how to stop her? He voiced the question to his brother.

  “I don’t know, old man. It doesn't seem that there is anything you can do. Except find a way to keep Lady Shaftesbury from her.”

  “I’ll have to go to town right away and see how much it will take to get her to leave again,” Francis decided. “I must at least get her out of my house before anyone of import realizes she is in residence. Perhaps I can have her gone before anyone knows she is there.”

  “What if she won’t go?”

  “Then I will go. I will go with Eve back to England instead. Nessa be damned. I can’t lose her,” he mumbled to himself. “I can’t lose my Paradise.”

  Agreeing to meet his brother within the hour for the ride back to Edinburgh, James pondered the situation. Any fool could see from how he carried on with the countess that Francis fancied the woman, but marriage? It was beyond comprehension. Lord only knew, after standing witness to the mockery Vanessa had made of the institution, James had no intention of ever going to the altar. The very idea that Francis would voluntarily bind himself to a woman again was simply unbelievable, regardless of whatever affection he held for the countess.

  Truly, James liked the countess, but still would rather see her become his brother’s mistress than his wife.

  And the scandal! Perhaps Francis hadn’t considered that it wasn’t just about him any longer. He had his family to consider, and now he had Lady Shaftesbury to think of, as well. His Paradise, Francis called her. The only place on earth where he had found perfect happiness, happiness that James and all their siblings knew he deserved. This week had shown a side of his brother that none of them had seen in years. Without cynicism. Happy.

  Francis’ heaven was about to become hell on earth.

  Chapter 24

  Townhouse of Lord & Lady Richard MacKintosh

  Moray Place

  Edinburgh, Scotland

  Francis jogged up the steps of Richard’s Edinburgh townhouse early the next morning nursing a vile temper. After arriving at his own townhouse late the previous evening, he had spent hours waiting for Vanessa to get back from whatever entertainments had occupied her. The arguing that had followed had been loud and raucous. It had taken additional time to get her and her belongings sent along to a hotel. Thus, he was working on only a couple of hours of sleep. His bad humor reflected it.

  He rapped briskly on the door. It was opened by a man he had never seen before. Francis leaned back to ascertain he was at the right house before, asking, “Who are you? You’re not Richard’s man.”

  “Indeed not, sir. I am Hobbes.”

  “Where is Guthrie?” Francis shouldered his way in, holding his gloves and hat out to the butler though Hobbes did not reach out to relieve Francis of the items.

  “I am here, my lord,” a younger butler rushed into the hall, glaring at Hobbes as he did so.

  “Please let Lady Shaftesbury know I am here to see her,” Francis ordered.

  Guthrie snapped to attention. “Right away, my lord.” Turning to go, he was halted by Hobbes’ raised hand.

  “I am sorry, my lord. Lady Shaftesbury is not receiving at the moment,” Hobbes intoned in a manner that bordered on the blasé.

  “Who are you again?” Francis asked, insulted that any servant of his brother’s would dare to gainsay his wishes.

  “I am Hobbes, my lord,” came the uninformative reply. For a moment, Francis was certain the man was laughing at him. On the inside, of course, since there had been no outward change of expression.

  “Hobbes is Lady Shaftesbury’s man, my lord,” Guthrie hastened to explain as he took Francis’ hat and gloves nervously. “Lady Shaftesbury brought her own household with her when she arrived, since we had been in England for Lady MacKintosh’s lying-in. Now that Lord and Lady MacKintosh have returned, he should be leaving soon.” This last was added with a roll of the eyes that indicated Guthrie hoped this would happen very soon, indeed.

  Ah. Domestic strife, Francis thought. Better to steer clear of all that.


  “Very well, Hobbes,” he turned to Eve’s butler. “Please inform Lady Shaftesbury that I’m here to see her.”

  “As I mentioned, Lady Shaftesbury is not receiving at this time.” The man’s stare was focused slightly above and beyond Francis’ left shoulder.

  “She’ll see me. Just let her know I am here.” Annoyance began to creep into Glenrothes’ voice.

  “And you are?”

  “He’s the bloody earl, ye dolt,” Guthrie interjected. “Let him by.”

  “Have you a card, my lord?” Hobbes ignored the younger man and held out a silver salver in the earl’s direction.

  “A card?”

  “Yes, my lord, a calling card.” Hobbes’ voice and expression were still bland, but Francis was very sure the man was purposefully rousing his ire.

  He bit out, “I have no card. Just tell Lady Shaftesbury that the Earl of Glenrothes is here to see her.” Francis did not normally bandy his title about for purposes of intimidation but his temper was getting up.

  “I am sorry, my lord, but regretfully Lady Shaftesbury is not currently at home,” the butler replied smoothly.

  “You had said she was not receiving not that she wasn’t at home.”

  “She was not receiving when you arrived, my lord, and she has left the residence since that time.”

  “While you have been wasting my time here, she has left?” Francis’ astonishment was evident as his eyebrows shot up.

  “That would seem to be the case, my lord.” The butler’s lips finally twitched just a bit, and Francis felt like socking him.

  “And where would she have gone?”

  “I am not at liberty to say, my lord,” came the calm reply.

  Francis was just about to grab the man by his shirtfront when Richard wandered out from his study.

  “Francis? I thought you wouldn’t be by until the end of the week?” he asked. “What brings you here?”