Never Broken (16 page)

London

May 1844

Elspeth Ross speculated she would have
to resort to one of her manipulative tactics.

“You can save your tears, daughter.” Her father’s voice was stern and ominous.

Elspeth dissolved into a puddle of extravagant sobs as she stood in her father’s well-appointed study. “You don’t understand, Father. The Queen hates me. Prince Albert hates me. They all hate me. You should have seen Lady Fairchild’s daughter Arielle. She practically fell over cackling at my humiliation. Have you no pity for your only child and what I have suffered?”

“Nay,” said John Ross, his thick Scottish brogue dancing on Elspeth’s nerves. “My pity is reserved for those who deserve it. Think ye I know not about Sir Dunlop and Lord Winston?”

Elspeth felt the color drain from her cheeks, but not because of any remorse over the two illicit affairs. There had been several others, and she didn’t care whether her father knew about those as well.

No, it was the look of determination in his eyes and the way his lips pressed in a line beneath his graying mustache that turned her blood to ice water. When she met his cold, dark eyes, she knew their row was over before it began. Her feigned tears dried up.

John started to pace the length of his study. As a laird living in London, his spending habits were lavish in order to keep up with the English gentry. Elspeth thought he could do more, as their flat in London was hardly as stately as those in her privileged circle. She fought the urge to tell him so. But she was under her father’s thumb, and she could only push him so far.

She clenched her fists, chafing under his moral judgment. After experiencing the freedom, albeit brief, as the head of her wealthy household, being forced to live with her father again was degrading. She had married Clive for one reason: her father wanted the match, along with the wealth and title that went with it. When he died nearly two years ago, neither she nor her father had expected his heir to turn her out with little more than what she’d brought into the marriage. Clive was barely cold in the grave before she was deposited on her father’s doorstep.

Of course, he immediately set off to find her another husband, but Elspeth would have none of it. She had let men rule her for too long, and as a young, beautiful widow she now took full advantage of the power her beauty and wiles gave her. She couldn’t control much in her life, but she could control a man’s desire—and she wasn’t about to apologize for it.

“Our Queen has banished you from court,” her father said.

She looked at him as he turned around. “In a few days some new scandal will send the gossips’ tongues wagging.” She dried her eyes and stood. “Believe me, Father. Soon no one will remember the few innocent remarks I said in jest to Prince Albert.”

“Queen Victoria will remember! Your lack of respect for the throne will not be shoved away as if it were a trifle.” He gripped her shoulders. “You cannot voice ribald remarks to our Prince within earshot of the Queen and expect to get away with it.” Sadness shadowed his face, and he dropped his hands. Turning around, he glanced at the small hand-painted portrait on his desk. He picked it up. “You are the image of your mother,” he mumbled, stroking the gilded frame with his fingertip. “You have her blonde hair and striking violet eyes.” He set the frame down and faced his daughter. “The resemblance stops there.”

“But Father…”

“This time you have gone too far, lass. Her majesty has been gracious enough by allowing me to remain at court, despite your lack of moral virtue. Perhaps she thinks my humiliation is punishment enough.”

“Your humiliation? What about me? It is I who have been banished!”

“’Tis not only about you, daughter. Your actions have not only embarrassed me, but our clan as well.”

“Our clan? Since when have you cared about Clan Ross?”

He slammed his fist against the top of his oak desk. “I am laird of Clan Ross! ’Tis my duty to care. My daughter should care also.”

“Do not speak to me of clan loyalty, as you only seem to remember Scotland when it suits you.” She gestured to the Ross family crest hanging on the wall behind John’s desk. “That means nothing to me.”

John blanched. Seconds passed before he slumped into his chair, dropping his head into his hand. “’Tis my own fault. Since your mother died, I have indulged your every whim.”

Elspeth waited for him to continue, but he remained silent as if he’d forgotten she was there. Anger simmered inside her. Hadn’t she been the dutiful daughter when she’d agreed to marry Clive, a man nearly thirty years her senior? Wasn’t it enough for her father that she had borne, with grace and dignity, the derision of her husband’s family, who thought their precious father had married beneath him? Did he not appreciate that she had maintained perfect decorum during her mourning period, pretending to miss a man who had only wanted to bed her and have a pretty trinket on his arm at balls and parties?

Of course none of that counted. She was a pawn that men used. First her father, then her late husband. They were only happy with her when she did their bidding. No more.
I will not be beholden to a man ever again.

Tired of her father’s silence, she turned to leave, grateful their discussion had ended without incident. Although the Queen was untouchable, Elspeth would have her revenge. That wretched Arielle and the minions who laughed at her misfortune would pay dearly as soon as Elspeth was allowed back at court. They would regret their actions.

“Daughter, a moment.”

His somber tone made her whirl around.

“Our Queen, as always, has made a wise decision. I think some time away from court will be of great benefit to you.”

Shock coursed through her. “You must be joking.”

He held up his hand. “Not only time away from court but from London as well. You haven’t been to Easter Ross since you were a child.”

A sickening lump formed in her stomach. Easter Ross? Her father’s ancestral home in the Highlands was hundreds of miles from London. It would take days to travel there by coach.

Settling back in his chair, the tension drained from his face. “Yes, a stay in the Highlands would suit you well.”

“You can’t do this to me. I am a woman of twenty-one—”

“Who insists on acting like a spoiled child. Thus, you shall be treated as one.”

Anger, like a lit fuse, was about to explode inside her. Then a thought occurred to her. He had said a visit, not a permanent stay. She could survive anywhere for a fortnight or two, as long as she had a proper place to live and the appropriate number of servants to accompany her. An extended holiday of sorts. And by the time she returned to London everything would have settled down. “Very well. I’ll go. The spring social season is winding down. I will miss nothing important during the next few weeks.”

Her father arched his brow. “You will be in the Highlands much longer than that, Elspeth. You will not return to London until you are allowed to return to court.”

Elspeth gulped, her hopes crashing like a wave against a sea wall. “When will that happen?”

“To directly quote our good Queen: ‘Never’.”

Elspeth sighed as she
gazed at her reflection in the gilded hand mirror, a gift from her father. She briefly entertained the idea of smashing it against one of the walls of her room then decided against it. In spite of the anger she felt toward him, she couldn’t bring herself to destroy such a costly item, especially as it was part of a matched set.

Her lips formed the frown she’d worn since her arrival at Easter Ross a week ago. Would she ever smile or laugh again? She doubted it, not as long as she continued to live in exile from civilized society. Placing the mirror back on her vanity table, she scanned her comfortable surroundings, unimpressed with the massive four-poster bed of imported cherry wood that was the centerpiece of the room. She’d given a cursory glance to the purple brocade bedspread with delicate threads of gold intricately woven into the fabric. The colorful Persian tapestries adorning the walls also failed to interest her.

“Father might as well have sent me to a penal colony in Australia,” she muttered, rose from the red velvet cushioned stool and moved toward the window. She stared out at the endless stretch of pastureland dotted with Cheviot sheep. Everywhere she looked there were sheep. Their annoying bleating filled her ears during the day, along with the barking of the herd dogs and the shouting of the shepherds. The few times she’d left the grand house it wasn’t fresh air that filled her nostrils, but the scent of damp wool and sheep dung.

She let out a wistful sigh. “And they say London stinks. Whoever they are, surely they’ve not visited this wretched place. Boring, gloomy, and full of sheep.” Brilliant. She was so lonely she was talking to herself. How she missed the bustling activity of London, the intrigues of the court, the latest gossip and the discussion and dissection of the most recent fads and fashions. Those were things that stimulated her mind and made her feel alive. Rugged, pastoral living didn’t do that for her.

A shout sounded from across the field jerking Elspeth out of her thoughts. She peered down and saw a man approach. Edward Dryden, the shepherd who leased the land and house from her father also appeared, meeting the other man halfway. Dryden, her father’s most trusted tenant and largest lease-holder, had been appointed her guardian. While the estate was spacious and well-kept, it didn’t compare to her home in London. Nothing in this savage land ever would.

From her room on the second level, she had a clear view of the man speaking to Dryden, his hat in his hand. He immediately piqued her curiosity. Dryden wasn’t small in stature, yet the stranger towered over him. Even from this distance she could tell he was handsome, in a rough sort of way. The wind feathered through his light brown hair, which appeared very thick, overly long, and definitely without style. He had a strong, angular profile, but her gaze didn’t linger on his facial features for long. A warm, familiar sensation flowed through her as she took in his broad shoulders, trim waist, and muscular legs. The worn woolen jacket and faded, gray pants he wore did little to hide his physique.

Yes, her curiosity was definitely piqued.

She rushed out of the room and sought out Lorna, her personal maid. The older woman had been her governess since Elspeth was five years old and had always been a discreet servant. Although Elspeth didn’t trust her with every secret, she was her only confidante.

Elspeth found her in the kitchen, chatting with the cook. Interrupting her conversation and pulling her maid aside, Elspeth spoke in low tones. “Outside Mr. Dryden is speaking with a young man. Find out who he is.”

A grin broke across Lorna’s chubby, florid face. “Didn’t take ye long to find a lad to warm your bed now, eh?”

“That’s none of your business. Now do as I say.”

With a knowing look, Lorna left the kitchen to fulfill her orders.

Elspeth returned to her position in front of the window in time to see the man shove his hat on his head and stalk away. She continued to watch him until Lorna burst into the room.

Clapping her hands in anticipation, Elspeth questioned her servant. “Well? What did you find out?”

Lorna moved to the window and clamped it shut. “The breeze is a strong one, m’lady. Ye mustn’t get a chill now.”

“Forget the window! I don’t have patience for your games. I must know who he is.”

Slowly, Lorna pulled the heavy velvet drapes closed, then turned and faced her mistress. “I found out who the lad is, but I’m afraid ye’ll be disappointed.”

“Why? What’s wrong with him?”

Lorna chortled. “Nothin’s wrong with that one, believe me. I got a glimpse of him myself, and I can see why you’re so interested.”

“Just get to the point.”

“He’s a tenant farmer.”

“So? Father has several tenants.”

Lorna clucked her tongue. “Nay, m’lady. Not one of your father’s. He’s one of Mr. Dryden’s.”

“Dryden has tenants?”

“Aye. They lease tiny patches of land from him.” Lorna walked over to the bed and fluffed a fringed pillow. “This lad has very little land and even less money. Poor as dirt, ye might say.” Lorna smirked. “Not what you’re used to a’tall.”

Elspeth’s spirits dipped but only for a moment. True, her tastes tended to run to men, married or not, whose wealth equaled or surpassed her father’s. But a simmering need consumed her the second she’d seen the farmer. For the first time since she’d arrived, Elspeth smiled. The handsome man presented a challenge, and she suspected her reward would be most satisfying. Her smile widened as she faced her maid. “Perhaps it’s time I sample what the Highlands have to offer.”