Kimberly Nee - The McKenzie Brothers (3 page)

BOOK: Kimberly Nee - The McKenzie Brothers
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Chapter Five

She found Drew in the dining room, already seated, sipping a glass of wine. He peered over the rim of the goblet in his hand, then lowered the crystal to rise from his chair. “I hope you’re hungry. Cook outdid herself.”

“I am, although I’m not certain I should admit to such a thing.” She gazed down at the table. It was long enough to easily seat fifteen people, but Mrs. Markham managed to make it seem intimate.

Slender white tapers flickered in the polished silver candelabra in the center of the table and cast dancing shadows along the pale blue walls. The crystal goblets and chandelier caught the reflections, sparkling brightly. The scent of fresh flowers picked that afternoon from Sheffield’s gardens filled the room with sweet perfume.

He skirted the table to draw her chair back and, no sooner did she sit, then the maids served their meal. Heather sipped her wine, staring down at the numerous forks lined beside her plate. It had been a long time since she’d seen so much silver alongside her plate. Hopefully she’d remember which was used for what part of the meal.

Drew smiled as he sliced off a bite. “So, tell me a bit about yourself, Heather.”

“There is blessed little to tell, I’m afraid.”

“So tell me what there is.” He winked and lifted his fork to stab at the duck on his plate.

The last thing she wanted to do was go into the sorry, twisted story of how she came to be at Coal’s. It was a truth she didn’t want to admit, how her own father sold her to save himself.

His voice cut through her reverie. “Is the duck not to your liking? You’ve barely touched it.”

She glanced down at her plate. He was right; she’d taken two bites, although the meat melted on her tongue in a burst of orange and sage. “Oh, no. It’s quite good, actually.”

“A bit nervous, are you?”

“Nervous?” She flinched as her voice cracked, and she poked at another morsel of duck with her fork.
Oh, bloody hell
.

“About what is to come later.”

“Oh.” Her fingers loosened, and the fork clattered to her plate. “That.”

He dabbed at his lips with a snowy linen napkin. “You’ve nothing to fear, Heather. Trust me. I’ve yet to turn a woman to stone.”

“Oh, now that would be silly.”

“And yet you blush. If you wish, we do not have to do anything tonight. We can wait until you are a bit more settled,” Drew said, setting down his silverware.

“You’d not mind?”

“I can wait a few more evenings.” Although his voice was mild, she didn’t miss the reluctance. She couldn’t fault him. He certainly didn’t part with thirty-five thousand pounds to escort her to the opera.

Sally told her a sure way to impress a man was to show interest in him, so she forced a smile to her lips. “Tell me, Captain, are you in London on business alone?”

His long, tapering fingers stroked the stem of his wine goblet. “Not entirely, no. I enjoy Europe. There are some beautiful cities to visit, both here and on the Continent.”

Envy pricked at her insides. She dreamed of traveling, of venturing far beyond London. “I went to Glasgow once, to visit my father’s family. It’s so wild up there, so open. Such a far cry from London.”

“I can imagine.”

“Have you been?”

He shook his head. “No. The wild is not exactly where my interests lie. I prefer the bustle of the cities. If I wanted wild, I’d stay in America.”

“I imagine that is quite the wilderness, indeed. I’ve never been to America, but I imagine it to be overrun with savages.”

“Oh, hardly. Quite civilized. In fact, we even have cities over there, and they aren’t much different than London. You would be amazed.”

Perhaps he hadn’t meant to be so sharp, but she felt upbraided. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“No. I’m the one who should apologize. I should not get so defensive. I suppose that beastly American ideal bothers me more than I let on.” The irritation in his voice melted away. “Shall we finish? I understand the cook prepared apple tarts for dessert.”

The cook had baked wonderful apple tarts and Drew was quite content as he sipped a glass of port. Even Heather seemed more at ease. Perhaps she looked forward to the remainder of the evening as much as he did.

A smile pulled at his lips. When she finished her port, he’d whisk her above, peel her gown from her body, and slowly, teasingly, kiss her —

“Excuse me, Captain McKenzie?”

Drew turned to see Mrs. Markham standing in the doorway. “Yes?”

“Mr. Stewart is here to see you. He says it’s urgent.”

“Adam is here?” Drew was surprised. Adam Stewart was another Eagleton partner, although he preferred America to the oceans. He rarely sailed these days, so his arrival could mean he was there to deliver bad news.

“Yes, sir. I asked him to wait in the drawing room.”

Drew turned to Heather, pushing his chair away from the table. “If you will excuse me.”

She didn’t look very happy, but nodded just the same. “Of course.”

He followed the sour-faced housekeeper from the dining room, hurrying toward the drawing room.

Adam Stewart was pacing the small, square room, pulling a hand relentlessly through his sandy blond hair. He looked up just as Drew stepped into the room, his gray-blue eyes troubled.

“Adam what are you doing in London?” Drew asked, not bothering with greetings. “Has something happened back home?”

Adam gave him a reassuring smile. “No. Everything is fine, Drew. I know my appearance is a bit of a surprise, but all is well. Garrett sent me abroad to check on things at the offices here. I think he had an inkling that you were here as well. Since no one has heard from you in nearly a year — well, I think you can figure that out for yourself.” He halted his relentless pacing. “It’s a good thing I popped into the office. There is a problem with one of the shipments.”

Drew groaned. “Don’t even tell me Dixon is haggling over prices again.”

“I see you’ve had this problem with him before.”

Albert Dixon was determined to be the greatest thorn in Drew’s side. Dixon’s scheme was to quote one price for a cargo but then attempt to inflate it until it bordered on the obscene. Should the shipper not act quickly enough, Dixon would sell it to another but stick the first with the forfeiture charge. Drew spent more time than he cared to recall haggling with the merchant. Eagleton did a great deal of business with Dixon Unlimited, so he’d never be rid of the man.

He sighed sharply, knowing he had no choice but to go down to the harbor now, even at this late hour. It was the last thing he wished to do. Given the choice between haggling with a greedy merchant or holding a beautiful woman in his arms, the choice wasn’t difficult.

He couldn’t contain his impatient sigh. “I am in the middle of something.”

“I’ve no authority in the matter, Drew. You know that. Nor do I want the authority. I’ve dealt with Dixon far too often in the past. Since you are here, it’s your headache.”

“A little revenge for my supposed desertion, Adam?”

“Your family is worried about you,” he replied simply.

Drew supposed he was right, but that didn’t make the pill any easier to swallow. “Very well. It’s my headache, as you say, so I shall deal with it at once.”

“I’ve a carriage waiting. I’ll go with you.”

“Excuse me a moment. There is something I need to take care of before I leave.”

Drew returned to the dining room, where Heather looked up as he entered, a smile lifting the corners of her lips.

“I’m afraid I am needed at the harbor. There is a problem with a cargo I’ve been trying to secure.”

“Nothing serious, I hope.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he assured her, crouching down beside her chair. “But, I am afraid I’ll most likely be coming in late. Don’t wait up. If you need anything, inform Mrs. Markham.”

Disappointment darkened her eyes, but she nodded. “Of course.”

He leaned down to plant a light kiss atop her head. “Tomorrow we shall dine in peace.”

“Of course.”

With that, he turned heel and strode from the room, the soles of his gleaming Hessians thumping soundly against the carpet.

Adam was waiting for him in the carriage out in front of the town house. “I am going to break that weasel’s neck,” Drew growled, settling in beside him. “Interrupting a man’s evening meal like this over a worn-out matter.”

Adam’s eyes glittered in the semi-darkness. “Yes, well, it’s all part and parcel with the responsibility of running Eagleton.”

“Don’t even start, Adam. I am not a boy. I do not need to report back to my brother at every turn.”

“Perhaps not, but is it too much to ask that you at least let him know you are alive?”

Drew sighed, stretching his legs out before him, crossing his ankles. “Let’s not speak of it now, Adam. Give me the news from home instead.”

“There is blessed little to report, I’m afraid. I was in Bridgeport over the winter. Keely is tottering around now. Speaks actual words, although they are garbled. Emma and Julian are well, planning to come down to Brunswick for a visit in July. Your brother is the same — although he is determined to sail over here himself and scour London for you. Fortunately, Miss Katherine has managed to rein him in and keep him in New Jersey. And Mary is Mary. Still most concerned with young men and fancy dresses.”

“It’s nice to know some things never change.” Drew leaned his head back against the seat cushion. “Make certain to tell everyone I am alive and well and in one piece.”

“Might I tell them when you are planning to return?”

Drew decided it would be worth telling if it kept Garrett from storming into London in a temper, looking for his errant brother. “Yes, Adam. Tell them I’ll be home in the fall. I plan on sailing out in a few weeks.”

Adam looked pleased. “Terrific. Then I have nothing to fear about returning myself. Your father is getting more difficult by the day.” He gave Drew a knowing grin. “I cannot say for certain, but I believe your mother has banned him from their bedroom because he’s been such an ogre these past few weeks.”

Drew thought about his mother and felt a slight pang of guilt. “Well, then most definitely tell her. I don’t wish her to worry any more than she has to.”

The salty breeze wafting through the window let Drew know they’d reached the harbor. He stifled a sigh as the carriage rocked to a halt and prepared to do battle with the greedy merchant and his overpriced wares.

Chapter Six

Heather slowly spread blackberry jam on her toast, trying not think about where Drew might be.

It was funny. When he’d agreed to give her time to settle in, she’d felt relieved for a moment, then disappointed. This was as far as she would go in life now. She would forever be relegated to the status of mistress. Still, being Drew’s mistress
had
to be better than where she’d been a little over twenty-four hours earlier. Far better indeed.

Besides, how bad could it be, being his mistress? He was handsome, he was desirable and he was a gentleman in every sense of the word. He was in London alone, but did a wife await his return back in America?

She nibbled at her toast and smiled. She could still see him, standing before her, partially undressed, giving her a hint of the masculinity that lay beneath the fine clothing. Every time that image sprang forth, butterflies awoke in her belly.

These were not nervous butterflies. Rather, they were the same as the ones she would feel as a child when her birthday drew near and she knew a gift was forthcoming. The anticipation of being in Drew’s arms elicited that kind of flutter. She was nervous, true, but couldn’t help her smile just the same. She looked forward to more kissing. Even with her limited kissing experience, she enjoyed the feel of his lips on hers.

She sat there long after she finished her toast, staring out the window, lost in her thoughts.

“You’re
still
eating, Miss Morgan?”

Heather jumped at Mrs. Markham’s unexpected question. Only crumbs remained on her plate, yet she didn’t recall eating a bite. “Have I been here long?”

“Nearly an hour.” Mrs. Markham bustled about, stacking dishes on trays.

“I hadn’t realized how much time passed.” Heather squinted at the clock on the mantel. “Has Captain McKenzie returned?”

“Not yet.” Ellen Markham’s voice was clipped as she rang the delicate china bell in the center of the table. Two maids hurried into the room and finished clearing the table and sideboard.

Mrs. Markham turned to her. “If it pleases you, Miss, I’ve arranged for you to spend the day shopping in Town. Captain McKenzie has accounts set up with most of the merchants. I was told to tell you that you are welcome to make use of them.”

“Shopping?”

“Aye. Apparently Captain McKenzie is not pleased with the four gowns you selected yesterday. I received a very unpleasant scolding because you did not select more. I have been given a list of items he feels you need.”

Heather accepted the sheet of paper from the housekeeper. She might have gone too far in the number of gowns she’d selected, not wanting to take advantage of his generosity. Instead, she’d given the housekeeper yet another reason to dislike her. “I’m sorry you were blamed, Mrs. Markham. I didn’t feel right, ordering more than that.”

The housekeeper did not answer, but sniffed and stalked out of the room. Heather swallowed the sour reply on her lips. It wouldn’t do to shout it after her, and it wouldn’t make Mrs. Markham respect her, either. That wasn’t about to change.

Pushing Mrs. Markham from her mind, Heather unfolded the list and set it down on the lacy tablecloth.

“That woman would not last a week in my house.” She glanced down at the list and gasped at the number of items.

She rubbed her forehead, feeling the beginnings of a headache. Still, she didn’t want to spend the entire day alone with only the stern-faced Mrs. Markham for company, so she tried to forget the pain. Perhaps shopping would make it disappear entirely.

With that, she went in search of a light wrap, her bonnet, reticule and gloves. Mrs. Markham appeared in the doorway of Drew’s bedroom as if summoned. “Jameson will accompany you wherever you wish to go, Miss. Tea will be served at half-past three, so try to be back by then.”

“I will do my best.” Heather pulled on her gloves, brushed by the housekeeper and made her way downstairs.

Jameson gave her a pleasant smile, bending at the waist. “Good afternoon, Miss Morgan. Feel up to a bit of shopping?”

She couldn’t help but return his smile. He was warm and friendly, unlike Mrs. Markham. If her presence troubled him, he gave no indication but treated her with the utmost courtesy. “Not especially, but it’s preferable to rattling about in there with
her
.”

Jameson’s tranquil blue-gray eyes danced with mischief. “Yes, she is a cold fish, that one. But, if you are in need of a good chuckle now and again, you ought but take in the way she follows Captain McKenzie with her eyes. Quite taken, she is. Quite taken, indeed.”

Heather chuckled. Servants were often terrible gossips, but this was the first time one chose to gossip with her. The image of the icy Mrs. Markham staring longingly after Drew brought a smile to her face. “Is she?”

He chuckled, nodding. “Very true. Watches him like a hawk watches a mouse, she does. It’s funny to see her fall all over herself the moment his eyes land upon her.”

“But she gives me the impression she isn’t fond of Captain McKenzie.”

“Oh, she feels he is an upstart American, of course. Still, she is not immune to his face. None of the ladies are. They kill one another trying to catch his attention. I must admit: I feel outnumbered. His face has no effect on me.”

She laughed. “Oh, Jameson, you are terrible! Does the marquis know about your penchant for gossip?”

He nodded, all smiles and not looking the least bit chagrined. “He is surrounded by women, so he is terribly grateful for my not being one.” Jameson pulled open the carriage door and held out his hand. “Up you get then.”

Still chuckling, she settled into the plush seat. She liked Jameson. He was an adorable man and Michael Montague was quite fortunate to have him on staff. He was preferable to the grouchy Mrs. Markham any day.

Jameson told the driver to drop them in Oxford Street. Their driver did just that, following along at a close pace as they popped into shops. It was exactly what she needed to forget her headache after all, and a lovely way to pass her day. She visited the perfumers, the stocking warehouse, the silk merchants, and even in shops where she bought nothing, she enjoyed looking.

It had been so long since she’d been able to go shopping without having to watch every shilling. Not that she went mad now. She followed Drew’s list to the letter. If an item didn’t appear on it, she did not purchase it.

The one exception was at the perfumers, where she fell in love with a soft, lavender fragrance at first sniff. It was expensive, and not on her list, but she talked herself into purchasing it. That bottle, her one extravagance, was tucked away with her other parcels.

Jameson brought her purchases out to the carriage and walked alongside her as they moved down the walkway. In between suggestions, he provided a steady stream of conversation that put her at ease. It was a bit strange at first, thinking of Jameson as her chaperone, but she adjusted quickly. He kept her hand tucked into the crook of his elbow, much like a father would for his daughter, and for a moment, Heather
felt
very much like his daughter. He was a sweet man and she was grateful for his company.

The last stop on her agenda was Mary Cartwright’s shop. Drew was quite explicit in his list of what he wished her to purchase there. As she scanned that missive for at least the tenth time, she realized that he was a man who most definitely knew how a woman should dress.

Jameson tactfully waited outside while Heather stepped into the shop. A bell tinkled to announce her arrival, and she was happy to see only two women inside the studio. But as the door shut behind her, Heather stifled a groan. She knew one of the women.

Lady Amanda Summerton, Countess of Winchester, chatted gaily with an older silver-haired woman Heather didn’t recognize. Amanda stood on the small block used for pinning up gowns, twisting to get a better look at her reflection in the full-length mirror. Her jaw went slack when she spotted Heather in the glass and her eyes went round. “Heather Morgan? Is that you?”

“Good day, Amanda. How are you?”

“Quite well, thank you.” Amanda ran a hand down the apple green muslin, which didn’t need smoothing. “And yourself? What brings you here?”

Heather shrugged, crumpling the note to shove back into her reticule. “Doing a bit of shopping. Same as you.”

“Really now?” Amanda’s eyes, the same pale green as her gown. glinted. “I hadn’t realized you had the funds for such frivolous spending. Papa’s paid off his debts, has he?”

Heather bit the inside of her cheek, fighting the embarrassment rising within her. She and Amanda had once been friends, although their friendship waned somewhat after Amanda’s marriage, and her words were no surprise to Heather. After all, there was nothing the woman loved more than a bit of malicious gossip. The juicier the better was the rule of the
ton
. At one time, Heather would have been there with them, chewing on the latest scandalous story. Now she knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end of the
ton
’s vinegar.

Not that it mattered. She was shunned by society. It would not matter what bloodline she bore, the
ton
would most definitely find out about the auction and her role in it.

Bought as a mistress.

“As a matter of fact, yes. Everything is settled.” Heather forced as much pride into her words as she could. “So, do tell me, how is your family?”

“We are fine, thank you. I’d ask about yours but — well — we all know the story there, don’t we?” Amanda glanced at her companion and her laugh could only be described as mocking. “Oh, I don’t believe you’ve met, have you? Heather Morgan, this is the Duchess of Marston. Your Grace, Heather Morgan.”

Trust Amanda to make certain Heather knew she was in the presence of a duchess. To her credit, Danielle Marston seemed equally embarrassed as she coughed and smiled. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Morgan.”

“The pleasure is mine, Your Grace,” Heather replied, dipping into a curtsy.

Mary Cartwright emerged from the back of her shop, smiling. “Miss Morgan! How lovely to see you again.”

The Duchess narrowed her eyes and studied Heather. “Are you any relation to Lady Susan Morgan?”

Hopefully, she didn’t show the surprise that sliced through her at the duchess’ question. “Yes, actually. She was my mother.”

A wide, pearly smile split Her Grace’s face. “I should have known! I knew your mother and knew her well. I haven’t seen you since you were a baby but you look so much like her when she was about your age.”

Her mother was friendly with a
duchess
? “You knew my mother?”

“Of course. We practically grew up together. My family’s estate borders Waterbury.”

Heather smiled. “You lived at Wickingham? I always had the wildest urge to explore the woods over there. They were like something out of a fairy tale.”

The Duchess laughed girlishly. “I suppose they must have seemed so to a child, but they were quite boring, actually. Imagine that, Miss Morgan. Oh, but you’ve become a lovely young woman. I was so sorry to hear of Susan’s passing. Do tell me — have you a sponsor?”

Heather didn’t miss the darkness flitting through Amanda’s eyes. The countess looked ready to commit murder as Heather replied, “Oh, no. I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Well, you will have to pay a call on me while I am in London and we will discuss
that
matter. A lovely young girl such as yourself ought not be deprived of a come-out, even if it’s a bit late. Oh, if I’d but known your father would let this slip by him, I’d have swooped down on Waterbury and snatched you away years ago.” The Duchess rummaged in her reticule, coming up with a pale blue card. “Here, my dear. Take this. Eric and I will be in Town for a while longer — although the Season is not what it used to be. I think we may be a bit late for this one, but there is no reason why we can’t try for next Season now, is there?”

Heather took the card, willing her fingers not to tremble as she did so. Her Grace’s proposal was so unexpected. Never in her wildest imaginings did she envision a duchess offering
her
sponsorship for a London Season.

Her happiness was short-lived. She could never accept the duchess’s offer. What would Her Grace think once it was learned Heather had been at Coal’s?

Amanda stepped down from the block in a huff. “I need more time to think, Mary. I shall return in a few days to look at more plates.”

Mary nodded. “Of course. And as for what you’ve already selected? Shall I send it to you?”

The countess sniffed. “Of course.”

“Very well. A good day to you, Countess.”

Amanda didn’t bother to reply. She turned to the duchess. “Shall we?”

Danielle Marston’s cheeks flushed as she got to her feet, as if embarrassed by Amanda’s snit. “Yes, well, it was lovely to see you again, Heather. Please, feel free to call on me any afternoon. I will be in Town for the next three weeks.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Heather curtsied again.

The Duchess gave her a warm smile, patted Heather’s arm and followed Amanda out of the shop. Heather glanced at the card clutched between her fingers, and a wave of regret crashed down over her. She would never be able to call on the duchess. Should she learn Heather’s shameful secret she would also be tainted by association.

BOOK: Kimberly Nee - The McKenzie Brothers
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