The Pursuit

by Johanna Lindsey

  “So it comes down to why you hate him after all?” Justin frowned.

  Ian sighed. “We dinna hate him.”

  “Then what? And if you tell me you’re holding him accountable for something he did when he was a child, I think I’ll hit you again.”

  “It wasna just what he did, it was his overall reaction tae the whole thing.”

  “What whole thing?”

  “He and m’brother Dougi were best friends back then. This thing started wi’ Linc ending that friendship by picking a fight that Dougi couldna hope tae win. A couple o’ m’other brothers took him tae task for it, but that was only the beginning. Linc took exception tae that, and for all intents and purposes he declared war on the lot o’ us.”

  “War?” Justin scoffed. “Rather a harsh word for childish squabbles, don’tcha think?”

  “Aye, except in this case, tha’s bloody well what it felt like. As soon as Linc would get patched up from one fight, he’d come looking for another. Time and again he attacked us, and he didna care how many o’ us he took on at once. Nine was the largest count.”

  “You couldn’t just ignore him?”

  “We tried. He wouldna allow it. We’d walk away from him, and he’d attack anyway. He proved, wi’ verra little doubt, that he has a temper he canna control. There was no rhyme or reason tae it. It turned him crazed. That is why we dinna want tae see our Meli joined tae him. A child shouldna be held accountable for the transgressions o’ his youth, but some things can stay wi’ a person forever. A wild, unpredictable temper is one thing someone might no’ outgrow.”

  “But what if he has outgrown it?”

  “Were we tae put it tae the test, provoke him, see if he’s managed tae harness the thing?” Ian asked.

  “Absolutely. I would have.”

  “Then yer no’ looking at the possible results verra clearly. Risk one or more o’ us—or more likely him—getting seriously hurt in the testing? We’re adults now. Adults dinna fight like children. Or nip Meli’s romance afore it gets started, sae no one actually gets hurt. Which would ye really choose?”

  “Put that way, the latter, of course,” Justin was forced to say. “Though I think it’s too late to use the word ‘started.’ She’s too dejected at the moment for her feelings to be merely tepid where he’s concerned.”

  “Which is another reason why I havena gone against m’brothers and told her anyway. She’s a lass who would follow her heart rather than common sense.”

  Justin sighed now. “You’re probably right. But this still won’t do. She’s come here to get leg-shackled. That was the whole point of this trip as I understand it. But how’s she going to do that, eh, if she continues to wait for a man who’s not going to show up? She thinks he will. I even encouraged her not to give up all hope—before I found out what was going on. So she’ll keep waiting and keep ignoring any other man who pays her court. And that means she goes home without a husband. You have figured that out, right?”

  “Ye think I like any o’ this?”

  “I think you’re going to do nothing to correct it. I’m not so restricted.”

  “Nae, I mun ask ye tae keep what you’ve learned tae yerself.”

  “Like hell—”

  “There’s no choice here.”

  Ian moved to stand in front of the door, crossing his arms. He no longer looked guilty. He looked damned determined, actually. Justin groaned inwardly. So he wasn’t going to leave unscathed after all. So be it. St. Jameses didn’t back down from a challenge.

  Justin put up his fists again. Ian shook his head at him, said, “Ye’d lose, sae dinna be trying it. And consider the results o’ ye telling her all o’ this. As compassionate as the lass is, she’ll take his side. Like ye, she’ll insist what’s in the past should stay in the past. She’ll overlook the danger tae herself that his anger could cause, because she hasna seen it yet.”

  “Danger?”

  “A crazy mon can and will harm anything in his path, including himself, because he loses all sense o’ right, wrong, logic, and all other attributes that put a harness on human nature. And I’m telling ye, I saw him m’self when he was like that. I saw him challenge m’brothers George, Malcolm, and Ian Two, all three older and bigger than him, when he had three cracked ribs already, two broken fingers, a sprained wrist, several broken knuckles, a jaw off center—or perhaps it was his nose—stitches all o’er his face—”

  “I get the picture!” Justin interrupted, appalled.

  “Nay, I dinna think ye do. The lad still charged in, despite all his injuries. He could barely walk. He could barely see through two black eyes swollen nearly shut. Yet he still insisted on fighting us, his rage defying all reason. ’Twas almost as if he had a death wish, though I simply canna attribute such a motive tae a mere child. Temporary insanity, aye. But no matter the cause, what happens tae innocents who get in the way o’ such a rage, eh? In particular, a wife partial tae the opposing side?”

  “It’s still all supposition. You could as easily say, What if he’s nothing like that now? He could merely have lacked the maturity to contain his emotions at that age but have them well in hand now. He’s not locked away, obviously. So he’s managed to get to his ripe old age without killing anyone. But based on ‘what ifs’ and something that happened before Meli was even born, you intend to deny her a man who could be just right for her and—even if not just right—the one she happens to want. You took the easy path in simply telling him to get lost, when you could just as easily have tested the waters to see if they’ll still churn or not.”

  “Ye’ve made some good points,” Ian said. “But there are still too many question marks for this mon tae be a good choice for m’niece. Her da will agree when he’s apprised o’ all the facts. And that will be the end o’ it. Sae all this talk and guessing is useless. The MacGregor himself will forbid the match.”

  Ian opened the door, signaling an end to the discussion. Justin gave him a sour look. Nothing had been resolved, in his opinion. And if anything he was even more frustrated now than when he’d arrived, when he’d thought he could make a difference. Some difference. Melissa was still to be left in the dark, and that wasn’t right. If anyone should have a say in this arbitrary decision her uncles had made, it was she.

  “I’ll say nothing for now, but her father had better be arriving soon to decide the matter, because I don’t think you MacFearsons have handled this well a’tall.”

  “Believe it or no’, lad, I’m hoping the same thing,” Ian said. He rubbed his chin as Justin passed him into the hall, adding, “You should work on that right swing. Get some strength behind it.”

  Justin turned, gave him a hard look and said, “Actually, I’m left-handed.”

  The door was closed quickly enough in his face to finally give him a reason to smile.

  Eighteen

  “YOU’RE late, m’boy, and for once you really shouldn’t have been,” Henriette said the moment Lincoln walked into the parlor where the ladies in the house gathered each day for afternoon tea.

  “My apologies,” Lincoln replied. Though it wasn’t his habit to take tea with them, and though he avoided the lower regions of the house altogether during the afternoon “calling” period, he was usually in residence just in case he was needed. “I was detained by an old school friend I haven’t seen in years. He insisted on chewing my ear off about his travels. Did I miss anything in particular?”

  “Indeed yes,” Henriette said with a distinct tone of triumph.

  And Edith added, “You’ll never guess who paid us a visit today.”

  Lincoln’s curiosity should have been piqued by then, but that seemed to be lacking these days, along with most of his other emotions. Ennui was an odd experience for him. Safe, if quite boring. And now that he’d acquired it, he couldn’t seem to get rid of it.

  “The queen?” he asked rather dryly.

  “Don’t be silly,” his aunt admonished. “The duchess of Wrothston was our esteemed visitor, and you simply can
’t imagine what an honor this was. She couldn’t have timed it any better if we’d asked her to, since we already had several callers when she arrived, including one of the biggest gossips in town. That, m’boy, will put the topping to Edith’s amazing success this season.”

  “You should have seen her, Linc,” Edith continued in the same excited tone. “She’s so socially adept. She completely took over our little gathering. No awkward silences around her, no indeed. She led the conversation and kept it going, right up to the end.”

  Eleanor was sitting there quietly, not sharing even a little in their general air of excitement, though that seemed to be a normal state for her. If she wasn’t looking sad, she wasn’t looking…anything. She apparently had far less emotion at her disposal than Lincoln’s ennui was leaving him with. She was watching him, though, and somewhat intently, as if expecting something.

  “I’m pleased for you, Edi,” Lincoln said. He really was. He just wished he could sound like it. “Was Her Grace just making the rounds of her new acquaintances, or did she stop by for anything in particular?”

  “No particular reason. At least, none mentioned. Of course they did ask after you and seemed somewhat disappointed that you weren’t home.”

  “They?”

  “Miss MacGregor was with the duchess. Oh, my, have we finally piqued your interest? Why else would I say you should have been here?”

  “She actually came here?”

  “Isn’t that just what I said? And you shouldn’t be so amazed. You do have female relatives, after all, making it perfectly acceptable for the women interested in you to come calling. Speeds up the courting process, indeed it does. Why, more’n half our visitors are ladies hoping to get better acquainted with you, m’boy. You really should make more of an effort to join us for tea.”

  “With her uncle?”

  The question was too out of context for Henriette not to be confused. “Eh?”

  “Was Melissa’s uncle along?”

  “Oh—no, they were alone, no male escort a’tall. Were you expecting an uncle? They did seem somewhat surprised when I mentioned that the duchess’s son had been by to see you just the day before. I refrained from telling his mother about his…odd behavior,” Henriette added in a whisper, only to finish quite loudly, “which you haven’t even explained yet. Why did he try to hit you?”

  Lincoln sat down in something of a daze, too many questions rolling around in his head at once—his own questions. As for his aunt’s, he’d avoided any direct conversations since yesterday because he really didn’t want to discuss Justin’s visit, any more than he wanted to talk about Melissa’s entire family showing up in London, which he hadn’t mentioned either. His family knew that something was wrong, though not exactly what. They attributed his new silences to moodiness, but then his courtship of Melissa hadn’t been going well from the beginning, which they also knew, and they probably assumed he was having another setback or two. What an understatement.

  He hadn’t wanted to talk about it, because to say it out loud—that Melissa’s family wasn’t going to allow him to marry her—would put a finality to it that he simply didn’t want to face yet. Moving into a limbo of indecision instead wasn’t helping, of course. He’d tried not to think about it. He’d tried to wash it from his mind with drink. He’d moved into a state of ennui that put his emotions on hold—as well as his questions. But this visit of hers most definitely cracked the ennui.

  How in the hell did she end up being related to them? A sister, an unknown sister—bah, as if there weren’t enough of them already. But he’d met the MacGregor, who was nothing like them. And this older sister of theirs obviously hadn’t been raised with them, so she probably wasn’t like them either. Melissa certainly wasn’t like them. She was like no one he’d ever met. So as much as it would relieve his dilemma and help him to forget about her, he couldn’t lump her into being “one of them.”

  “I suppose I should have mentioned this sooner,” Lincoln told his aunt, “but it seems I have a closer association with Melissa’s family than I realized, and not a good one. I don’t have many enemies in this world, but the few I do have are all in the same family—hers.”

  “Rubbish,” Henriette said in his defense. “Who could possibly not like you?”

  “Nonsense,” Edith agreed. “Or is it that you don’t like them?”

  “Melissa is related to the MacFearsons?” Eleanor guessed aloud.

  He glanced at his mother, somehow not surprised that she would connect the word “enemy” to the MacFearsons as well. She’d been involved—to a degree. At least, she’d known about the conflict, if not what started it. And she was quite pale at the moment.

  “Yes, the tribulations of childhood, coming back to haunt me—again,” he said. He missed Eleanor’s stricken look as he turned back to his aunt to add, “I had some major conflicts with that family when I lived in Scotland that haven’t been forgotten or forgiven. Suffice it to say they’ve told me clearly to stay away from their niece. So her coming here doesn’t make much sense to me at the moment.”

  “Perhaps she isn’t required to follow their dictates?” Henriette said with a serious frown. “She might even be estranged from that side of her family?”

  “No, one of those uncles escorted her here. When I first met her, she was with another of them.”

  “But you did have her father’s permission to court her,” Edith pointed out.

  “I don’t believe he knows about the conflict—yet,” Lincoln replied. “Though I’m sure they’ll inform him at the first opportunity.”

  “I don’t understand how something that happened so long ago can still bear such consequences.”

  Lincoln almost laughed, though there would have been no humor in it. “Oh, it can, Aunt Henry. To a great degree it shaped and molded me into the man I am today.”

  Which was nothing to be proud of, though he didn’t add that aloud. How he felt about himself he would keep to himself. And he didn’t dare look at his mother just then, when he held her mostly responsible.

  Henriette sighed in disappointment. “I suppose she might have wanted simply to offer her regrets. You did have your mind set on her, after all.”

  Could the reason for her visit have been that simple? Yes, he supposed it could. Justin had probably told her about his visit. If Melissa hadn’t known about her uncles’ interference before, she undoubtedly did now.

  “And yet,” Henriette added thoughtfully, “the duchess brought Miss MacGregor here, and I find it extremely difficult to believe that she wouldn’t have been informed of what’s what in this matter, her being the girl’s sponsor. In that case, this could be their way of telling you that you needn’t abide by her uncles’ dictates—or that they’ve changed their mind about you. Just saying so would have been most helpful instead, but…well, they might think you’ve changed your mind also, now that you know whom the girl is related to, so wanted to proceed cautiously, to avoid embarrassment if you have. Have you?”

  It was a good thing Lincoln had years of practice in deciphering his aunt’s convoluted way of getting her points across. He was able to answer immediately, “No, I haven’t changed my mind. I might have implied otherwise to her uncles, but that was before I knew they were her uncles. But I did let this throw me.”

  “Yes, it does explain your being out of sorts this last week,” Henriette sympathized. “What a dreadfully unexpected wrinkle.”

  Lincoln actually smiled. “I’ve called it much worse, believe me. And it still pertains that if she wants nothing more to do with me now, there’s not much I can do to change that. But it’s time I stopped thinking the worst and find out what Melissa thinks about all this.”

  Nineteen

  FIND out what Melissa thinks? Much more easily said than done. What Lincoln did find out, however, was that he was denied access once again to the Wrothston residence. This he had actually expected, which was why he hadn’t come around sooner to have it confirmed. But he should have tried soone
r, since the butler was quite informative now, possibly because he was himself annoyed over the restrictions placed on him.

  He’d volunteered in a stiff, distinctly angry tone, “I have been warned, sir, that I will be shopping for a new nose, as the young Scot put it, if I let you past this door again. The young lady, however, is unaware that you are no longer welcome here and has requested that if you should come by when she’s not here, I let you know her plans for the evening.”

  Lincoln now had Melissa’s agenda for that evening and, checking with his aunt, even had an invitation to the rather large dinner party himself. That, of course, was no guarantee that he’d get to talk to her. If one of her uncles was with her, then he would be directly defying their wishes if he approached her, and that would lead to a distinct hell he wouldn’t wish on anyone, much less himself.

  Until he knew, without a doubt, whether or not she was going to abide by her uncles’ wishes as well, he would be prudent not to give the impression he was thumbing his nose at them. However, if she gave even the slightest indication that she would still have him, nothing was going to keep him from her.

  He saw her the moment he arrived at the dinner that night with his aunt and cousin. It was being held in a private home. He’d moved directly to the parlor while his aunt stopped to talk to the hostess in the hall. And there she was. He felt like a man starving, and Melissa’s presence was a feast, filling him with all manner of sensations that were simply beyond his normal experience. He’d missed seeing her more than he realized.

  She was across the room, talking with Megan St. James. They seemed to be alone for the moment. Could he be that lucky? No…

  “Leave, afore she sees ye,” Ian MacFearson said at his side.

  Lincoln turned slowly to the younger man, who was leaning against the wall. His defenses rose abruptly, as did an anger so acute he could nearly taste it.