A Scandalous Scot (35 page)

“Ballindair has been all the family I ever wanted or needed.” His smile faded. “That’s sad, isn’t it? To have a love for a building. A structure cannot hug you or hold you, or touch your hand.”

She moved the chair closer, sat, and reached out and took one of his hands, clasping it between her own.

“Has the physician given you anything for the pain?”

“There’s nothing more he can do,” Seath said.

They sat in silence for a few moments.

“I’m proud of him,” he said. “The earl. Morgan. He’s taken on the burden of Ballindair.”

She nodded.

“He has it within him to be a great man.”

Again she nodded.

“You’ll need to tell him, of course,” he said, his voice faint.

“I know,” she softly said. Her secret was always with her, keeping pace with her, walking side by side and whispering to her in the early morning hours.

“You were a good maid, Jean.”

She smiled. “I was a good maid.”

The steward kept journals about the purchases and expenditures on Ballindair’s behalf. He’d also told her that throughout the years, he’d kept notes that might be relevant to succeeding generations.

Had he written about her? What had he said? Just the bare facts of the situation? Or would he append his own thoughts?
On this date, wed to the 9th Earl of Denbleigh, one single woman, once resident of Inverness and upstairs maid.

“You’ll be a good countess.”

She shrugged.

“Is it that you don’t believe in yourself? Or are you afraid of the future?”

The future was frightening for both of them, wasn’t it?

“If the earl sends you away, then he’s a fool.”

“He probably will,” she said. “He would have no reason to keep me.”

He only smiled weakly, and she could tell he’d exhausted himself.

She rearranged his pillows, reached for the cup of tea she’d brewed him earlier, and helped him drink the last of it.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked. Weeping in front of him wouldn’t be wise, but it was hard to push back her tears.

“Stay with him, if you can. He needs you more than he knows.”

“If I can,” she said. What she didn’t say was that she needed Morgan as well. Or perhaps Mr. Seath already knew, because he only patted her hand.

When the time came, she would sit vigil with him, praying to ease his pain. For now, she stood and bent over the bed, surprising them both when she kissed him on the forehead.

The time would be soon.

Nodding to Tom, the young man assigned to care for the steward, she left Mr. Seath’s room, to find her aunt pacing in the hall. The older woman was dressed in her usual manner of dark blue dress, white apron, and lace cap resting on her coronet. The only changes in her demeanor were her clenched hands and a decided look of worry.

“Do you know where Catriona is?” Aunt Mary asked in greeting.

“I haven’t seen her this morning,” Jean said, moving away from Mr. Seath’s room so as not to disturb him. “Have you checked with the seamstresses?”

Aunt Mary shook her head. “They haven’t seen her, either.”

That was strange.

“I don’t think she’s here. She’s not in her room, and she isn’t anywhere to be found,” her aunt said, a wrinkle deepening above the bridge of her nose.

Jean stared at her in dismay. “Where do you think she is?”

Had her words sent Catriona fleeing from Ballindair? If so, it would be the first time her sister had paid any heed to what she’d said.

“Mr. Prender is also gone.”

Jean understood immediately. “And you think she’s gone with him?”

Aunt Mary nodded, and told her in a whisper, “The earl sent him packing. He left this morning without a word to any of us or a tip to the maids.” The frown returned in earnest. “And left a mess.”

Jean had a sinking feeling.

“She’s my sister’s girl, and she’s not been raised to be a strumpet.”

They shared a look. Although the words weren’t said, they both knew Catriona hadn’t acted in the manner she’d been raised.

“Where was he bound?” Jean asked.

When Aunt Mary only shook her head, Jean sighed again.

“Never mind. I’ll ask the stable master.”

“She’s ruined if she’s gone with him,” her aunt said.

“I’ll find her,” Jean said, patting her aunt on the arm, then went in search of Morgan.

Chapter 33

RULES FOR STAFF:
You are responsible for learning these rules by rote, and must be able to recite them if called upon to do so.

“T
he trains don’t run every day from Inverness to London,” Morgan said.

Jean nodded, grateful for that at least. “But you think he’s taken her to London.”

He sat back against the carriage seat and studied her.

“I’m not so sure it’s a case of abduction, Jean.”

“I know,” she agreed.

The idea they might save Catriona from her own rashness was foolish. However, they could certainly prevent her from making matters worse. Once society learned of her decision to accompany a married man anywhere, her reputation would be forever sullied.

The best they could hope for was to intercept Catriona before she appeared anywhere publicly with Andrew.

She leaned her head back against the high seat, trying to forestall her tears. One escaped and she brushed it away impatiently.

Suddenly, Morgan was there beside her, sweeping her skirts out of the way and pulling her into his arms. She wasn’t the type to cry. She grew annoyed at weepy women. But she grabbed his jacket and buried her face inside it, hating the situation and loving the smell of him.

“Catriona has brought you nothing but shame,” she said a moment later. “I’m sorry for that.”

“What more can anyone say about me?”

A great deal, if the truth was known. Now was not the time to tell him, however, when they were racing toward Inverness to save her sister. Now was not the moment, when he was so kind and concerned.

Less than a quarter hour had transpired from when she’d told him about Catriona missing and the carriage being ready. Morgan had been willing to stop what he was doing to help her, and she’d forever remember that.

“Catriona was always a sweet girl,” she said. “She smiled a great deal, and went out of her way to be charming.”

“She probably learned early on her appearance mattered more than anything else.”

Jean closed her eyes, resting her head against his chest and finding the position remarkably comfortable.

“It’s not uncommon,” she said. “Women have no occupation, other than being wife or mother. We’re to be personable and helpful. Even the rules for maids accentuate our appearance. We are to be attractive, clean, and tidy.”

“There are rules for maids?”

Surprised, she lifted her head and looked at him.

“Didn’t you know? We were given to understand the Earl of Denbleigh had dictated those rules himself.”

His face clouded for a moment. “It wasn’t me. Perhaps my father did so. Are there other rules?”

“There are thirty-six of them,” she said.

An eyebrow arched upward. “That many?”

“Would you like me to recite them?” she asked. “That is another rule. We have to memorize them.” She sighed into his chest.

“If I’m ever tremendously bored, you can. Perhaps we’ll address the issue when we return to Ballindair.”

Before she could answer, there was a noise at the driver’s box.

“I see them, sir. MacDuff is driving them hard.”

“Can we catch them?” Morgan asked.

“He’s got our best pair, sir. But the landau is heavier than the barouche.”

“Pull over, Guthrie.”

She reached out and touched his sleeve. “Are you going to quit, Morgan?”

“Of course not,” he said. “We’re just going to go about the chase in a different manner.”

He opened the half door and descended the carriage.

She followed, watching as he and the driver worked on the harness of one of the lead horses. Before she knew it, the horse was free and Morgan was on it, gone in a clatter of hooves and dust.

She stared after him. Evidently, she was supposed to remain here, while he rescued her sister. Was a countess supposed to remain docilely behind?

Oh, dear Lord, she didn’t know.

“Guthrie,” she said, remembering the man as a kind and personable sort, “why aren’t we following him in the carriage?”

“I’d have to let loose Sally to make it balanced. The other two might be able to carry the load, but I’ll not ask it of them. And I’ll not ask the three to pull the carriage unbalanced, neither.”

She strode ahead to the lone lead horse. “Is this Sally?”

He nodded.

She stood in front of Sally as the horse bobbed its head at her. Cautiously, she raised her hand and petted it on its long nose, the very first time she’d ever touched a horse.

“I need your help,” she said, leaning close to whisper so Guthrie couldn’t hear. “I need to get to Morgan. Can you take me there?”

The horse raised its nose and whacked her on the chin. She stood back, eyed Sally, and decided the answer had been an enthusiastic yes.

“Will you let loose Sally,” she said. “And help me mount her, please.”

Guthrie didn’t look the least convinced of her equestrian talents. She wasn’t going to tell him she’d never ridden before, but how hard could it be? People got on a horse, directed the animal to a certain location, and the horse did all the work.

“Sally’s not a riding horse,” he said, his mouth set in a mulish line. “She’s a carriage horse. She’s used to pulling in tandem.”

Morgan had done just fine.

“If you’ll remove the harness, please, Guthrie, and help me mount.”

“Are you sure? It won’t be a pleasant ride.”

Since she had nothing against which to measure it, she doubted she’d mind all that much.

“I’m very sure,” she said, stepping out of the way.

Guthrie eyed her attire with some misgivings.

She stared down at her skirt, realizing what was making him pause. How on earth could she ride a horse with a hoop?

“Give me a moment,” she said, and strode behind the carriage. With only the birds, field mice, and an occasional eagle as her witness, she removed her hoop. Grabbing it up from the road, she collapsed it as much as she could and tucked it in the space beneath the carriage seat.

She rejoined Guthrie, who pretended not to notice her skirts were now trailing on the ground. She wasn’t acting very countesslike, but she wasn’t a real countess, was she?

Pasting a smile on her face, she eyed Sally with what she hoped was confidence, and proceeded to mount her first horse.

T
hank God for MacDuff. When the man had seen him riding after them, he slowed the carriage. Morgan saw Andrew peering out the window, and after spotting him, draw back.

Now, Morgan dismounted, waiting for Andrew and Catriona to leave the carriage. If they didn’t exit on their own, he’d go in and get his sister-in-law—his foolish and self-absorbed sister-in-law.

Andrew opened the door, stepping down from the carriage with his customary smirk, an expression Morgan decided he’d seen just too damn often of late.

“What is it, Morgan? Feeling a need to rescue a damsel in distress?” He gestured with one hand toward Catriona as she peered out of the carriage. “There’s no need. Catriona is coming with me of her own accord.”

“I’ll speak with you, Andrew,” he said.

Andrew turned and said something to Catriona, then strode toward him.

“Are you about to make us walk to Inverness, Morgan? I never thought you to be so ill-mannered.”

“She’s not your usual conquest, Andrew. Leave her be.”

Andrew smiled. “I will agree she’s not like Lillian, no. Lillian was a true slut, Morgan. Before she’s finished, she’ll have bedded most of London.”

Morgan didn’t comment. Andrew might well be right.

“She was so damn needy, you know? She needed attention, Morgan. She wanted affection or love or something passing for it.”

“You know this how? From your vast experience with women?” He managed a smile. “You’ve misjudged this time, Andrew. I’m not letting you take Catriona.”

“Can you stop me?” Andrew raised his fists.

The picture of Andrew, so much shorter, willing to fight him, might have been amusing at another time. Now, it just annoyed him.

“No,” Morgan said calmly. “I’m not going to fight you for Catriona. Nor am I going to fight you about Lillian. I find I don’t much care. You weren’t the first lover she had and you certainly weren’t the last.”

Slowly, Andrew dropped his fists and took a deep breath.

“That’s good, then,” he said.

Morgan’s fist shot out before Andrew could protect himself, the blow so hard it shuddered up Morgan’s arm.

Andrew stumbled back and nearly fell, but righted himself at the last moment. He bent over, hands braced on his knees, shaking his head as if to clear it. As he straightened, he cradled his jaw in one palm.

“I thought you said she wasn’t worth it,” he said, his words garbled.

“She isn’t,” Morgan said. “That’s for making Jean cry.”

He walked to the carriage, reached in and grabbed his sister-in-law none too gently by the arm. Once outside the carriage, he turned her to face him.

“You have a choice to make. And you need to make it now.”

Catriona pulled away, rubbing at her arm where he’d grabbed her.

“It was my decision to go with Andrew.”

“I understand that,” Morgan said. “I’m offering you another choice. To go and live with my aunt in Edinburgh. You’ll be chaperoned and taught the ways of society.” Before she could protest, he raised his hand. “I know, you were both educated properly in Inverness. I know you’re not a maid. If you accept my offer, my aunt will teach you what you need to know in order to take your proper place in society as the sister-in-law of an earl. As inbred as society is, being related to me will advance you far more than anything Andrew can do for you.”

“Even if you’re a scandal, Morgan?”

He smiled, admiring her courage, if nothing else. “You’ll find that a whiff of scandal will only make people more curious about you, Catriona. While they may wish to excoriate me, they’ll look at you with different eyes.”