Rose In Scotland (17 page)

He chuckled, shocking her by bending to drop a husbandly kiss on her neck. “I am sure it is,” he drawled, his eyes twinkling as they met hers in the mirror. “Although why a beautiful young woman should want to look like some fat old dullard of a lawyer, I am sure I do not know. Still, on you ’Tis lovely.”

Caroline set her brush down with care, afraid
she would betray herself by dropping it. “Thank you,” she said, picking up her fan and gloves and rising to her feet. “Now I am afraid we must leave. We shall be late if we do not hurry.”

“This is London; everyone is late,” he replied, his gaze drifting over her in silent appraisal of her toilette. His gaze came to rest on the triple strand of pearls looped about her neck, and he reached out to touch it.

“I’ve not seen you wear these before,” he commented, stroking a finger across one of the creamy pearls. “Are they new?”

She did her best to ignore the sudden acceleration of her heart. “No, quite the opposite, in fact,” she said, her voice sounding breathless to her own ears. “They were my mother’s.”

“Were they?” An odd look stole across his face and he took a step back, his hand dropping to his side. “In any case, your beauty does them justice. Come now—as you say, it will not do for us to be late.”

The earl of Farringdale’s home was easily within walking distance, so she was surprised when he insisted they take the carriage. She also noted the full retinue of servants who were to accompany them, and turned to Hugh with a raised eyebrow.

“I know his lordship has the reputation for being something of a high stickler,” she remarked, taking the footman’s hand as she climbed into the torch-lit carriage. “But I do not believe even he would expect us to travel two blocks in such grand style. Surely four footmen is a trifle overdone.”

Hugh climbed in after her, securing the door
before turning to her. “As I’ve said before, London is a dangerous place, and footpads are everywhere, even on this fine street,” he said, his guarded tone increasing her suspicions. “In these uncertain days ’Tis better to be over-prepared than underprepared.”

Caroline digested that in silence before deciding it was all a hum. “Perhaps, but arriving with a carriage full of servants armed to the teeth is certain to cause comment,” she said, determined to have the truth. “Now, tell me what is going on. Has Uncle Charles said or done something I should know of? Tell me, Hugh,” she added when she saw him hesitate. “I have the right to know.”

He remained silent for several moments before sighing. “Aye, that you do,” he said, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in a gesture that betrayed his weariness. “And if it will ease your mind, your uncle has done nothing untoward. That is precisely why I am taking such care. An enemy you don’t see is a greater danger than the one who is marching straight at you. I learned that fighting the rebels in America, and ’Tis a lesson I’ve not forgotten. Your uncle is up to something, of that I’m certain, and I prefer not to be taken unawares.”

Caroline would have liked to discuss the matter further, but he turned toward the window, the hard cast of his jaw making it plain he would welcome no further conversation. His obvious rebuff stung her pride, and she also turned toward the window, determined not to speak unless he spoke first. Their carriage had encountered the line of coaches clogging the
street before the earl’s elegant town house, and from experience she knew it would be several minutes before they could leave the coach. With nothing to do but wait she soon grew restive, and despite her resolve to remain indifferent, her gaze kept returning to Hugh.

His hair was unpowdered as always, although she noted it was arranged with more style than he usually affected. He was wearing a frock coat of dark-green velvet with a high collar and cuffs that were fashionably rounded, and she thought the rather austere style suited his harsh countenance. Still, she thought, a bit of decoration wouldn’t have gone amiss.

Some buckles for his shoes, perhaps, she mused, or even a ring. She’d already noted that save for a small signet ring his tanned hands were unadorned, and she wondered if she ought to buy him one as a wedding gift. Due to his pride, she knew it would be no easy thing getting him to accept, and she was trying to decide how best to broach the matter when she realized he had finally spoken.

“I am sorry, sir,” she apologized, raising her gaze to meet his. “I fear I was not attending. Did you say something?”

“Only that we might as well get out,” he said, watching her thoughtfully. “Unless we mean to sit here half the night, ’Tis unlikely we’ll get any closer.”

When they alighted, Caroline noted three of the footmen closed ranks behind them while a fourth walked ahead of them, a torch in one hand and a pistol in the other. Hugh walked between her and the street, and she could feel his
wariness in the iron-hard arm beneath her fingertips. Something more than ordinary vigilance was going on here, she decided, noting how he avoided the shadows spilling from the narrow alleyway. It was plain as a pikestaff he was expecting some sort of attack, and that made her even more alarmed.

Once inside, Hugh kept her close to his side, refusing to let her dance with any of the men foolish enough to approach her. His wary, distrustful attitude was drawing more than a few amused glances, and she could hear the whispers and laughter swirling about them. When his cutting glare sent a dainty fop scrambling away in panic, she decided enough was enough and turned to pin him with a stem frown.

“I appreciate your concern for my safety, sir,” she said, taking care to keep her voice pitched low. “But if you don’t wish me to dance, may I ask why you brought me to a ball?”

To her amusement she saw an embarrassed flush steal across his tanned cheeks. “ ’Tis not that I object to your dancing,” he muttered, keeping his eyes carefully averted. “Rather ’Tis the sort of men who would claim you as their partner I cannot like. Useless, painted fops, the lot of them. I’d not trust them to guard my hound, let alone my wife.”

His description of the men who had approached her was, alas, all too accurate, but Caroline decided that was beside the point. “Because a man wears a bit of powder, it doesn’t make him any less of a man,” she said, her tone severe. “Mr. Crandall, the man you just sent packing, is accounted a deadly shot, and one hears he is
quite handy with his fists as well. Besides,” she added, frowning as a new realization occurred, “why do I need guarding? I thought you said Uncle Charles hadn’t done anything.”

Hugh muttered what sounded like a curse before casting her a glare. “He hasn’t, and I intend to see things remain that way,” he said, looking decidedly harassed. “And as for my not wanting you to dance with those
brolachans
, did it not occur to you that I might want to dance with you myself?”

Caroline’s mouth opened and closed several times before she managed to find her voice. “Then why don’t you?” she asked, thinking she would never understand the masculine mind.

“Because I don’t know the bloody steps!” he snapped, sounding more like an irritated parent than an ardent suitor. “Now will you say no more of the matter? You’re giving me a headache.”

Caroline was considering dumping her glass of punch over his arrogant head, when their host suddenly appeared before them. With him was a man with black hair and turquoise-colored eyes who was almost startlingly handsome. Caroline was wondering who he might be when Lord Farringdale reached out to take her hand.

“Ah, Lady Caroline, Mr. MacColme, so delighted you could come,” the earl said, beaming at them with every evidence of pleasure. “You are enjoying yourself, I trust?”

“Indeed we are, my lord,” Caroline said. Unable to resist getting some of her own back from Hugh, she added, “And I must say the music is lovely. I do so love Bach.”

The earl look baffled. “Is that what they’re playing?” he asked, and then shrugged his bony shoulders. “All sounds the same to me, if you want the truth of it. But now I should like to make you known to my wife’s nephew, Captain Alexander Dupres. I believe the two of you are already acquainted, Mr. MacColme?”

“We served together while in Canada, my lord,” Hugh replied stiffly, inclining his head to the other man. “Captain, I was hoping I might see you again.”

“Sergeant.” Captain Dupres’s greeting was equally restrained. “General Burroughs wrote me you were safely back in England, and asked that I say hello to you. Your regiment saw a great deal of action in the Carolinas, I heard. I trust you were not badly injured?”

To Caroline’s relief some of Hugh’s wariness vanished, and he gave the other man a wry smile. “Not that warrants mentioning, Captain,” he drawled. “We fusiliers are of slightly hardier stock than your regulars. It takes more than a bruise to send us crying for the camp’s doctor.”

An answering smile softened the harsh planes of the captain’s face. “I shall be certain to mention that to Lieutenant Trevellyn, MacColme,” he replied, his icy demeanor dissolving. “He still talks of the day he had to knock you unconscious so that Dr. Warren could remove the bullet from your shoulder. You were holding him off with a Hessian saber, if memory serves.”

Caroline’s stomach churned at the image of a wounded Hugh lying on a blood-soaked cot, defiant as ever even as he lay bleeding from a bullet wound. She thought of the scar on his cheek, and
wondered what other marks his tough, muscular body contained.

“Soldier’s talk, so tiresome, do you not agree, my lady?” Lord Farringdale’s jovial voice recalled Caroline to the present, and she glanced up to find the earl regarding her quizzically.

“Not at all, my lord,” she replied, giving herself a mental shake. “Hugh seldom speaks of his days in the army, and I would know more of his grand adventures.”

“So speaks the besotted bride,” Farringdale chuckled, patting her hand. “You had best take care, m’ dear, else the world will take this marriage of yours for a love match.”

Caroline was trying to think of the best way of responding to the outrageous sally when Hugh grasped her elbow in his hand.

“I was wondering, my lord, if you would be so good as to stand up with my wife,” he said, his fingers squeezing a silent warning. “These new dances are not known to me, and I’ve no wish to disgrace her ladyship with my poor attempts.”

The earl beamed with delight and bustled forward to grab Caroline’s other arm. “Be happy to, lad,” he said. “May not be as light on my feet as some of these younger fellows, but I daresay I can still turn a pretty leg. Come, my lady,” and he led her off, giving Caroline no chance to protest.

As she and the earl took their positions for the contradance that was forming, Caroline kept a cool smile pinned to her lips. Hugh was up to something, all right, she decided, curtsying to the lady on either side of her. And if it was the last
thing she did, she would discover what that something was—and more importantly, what she was to do about it.

“So that is your bride,” Alex drawled, his gaze following Caroline as she moved gracefully through the quadrille. “You are to be congratulated, Sergeant. She is every bit as lovely as the general claimed. I can see why the pair of you are so determined to keep her safe. Her grandfather has told me everything, and I am come to offer my services should you have need of them.”

“That is good of you,” Hugh said, having already deduced as much. “But do not be blinded by her beauty; the little vixen is also clever as a cat. She’s already remarked on the precautions I’ve taken, and she’s started asking some pointed questions as well. Deceiving her won’t be as easy as I thought.”

“Deceiving women is always a dubious proposition,” Alex agreed. “That is why it is best to tell them the truth. They will have it sooner or later, in any case.”

“Aye, but this is a truth that would give her nightmares,” Hugh muttered, recalling the information the general had sent by special courier. Between the two of them, he and Caroline’s grandfather had successfully contacted every magistrate in London, showing them the marriage lines and convincing them Hugh was indeed her husband. The tentative attempts Westhall had already made were easily routed, and they’d thought the matter resolved. The last thing they expected was for the earl to go to a
magistrate in another town and cleverly plead his case.

“Oxford.” Alex shook his head. “One would think a rogue of Westhall’s stamp wouldn’t even know where the place is, let alone to actually have connections there. How do you think he managed to convince the magistrate to sign the commitment order?”

“Bribery, I would suppose,” Hugh said, recalling his cold fury at having learned of the order. “English judges seem unusually susceptible to the practice. Doubtless the earl greased the old bastard’s palms with enough silver to make him willing to commit his own mother.”

“Doubtlessly,” Alex echoed, giving Hugh a disapproving frown. “And English judges, I’ll have you know, are no more susceptible to bribes than their Scottish brethren. You are allowing your prejudice to cloud your judgment, MacColme.”

Hugh didn’t bother denying the charge. His dealings on his own behalf had deepened the contempt he’d already held for English justice, and there were times he was tempted to say to the devil with it and walk away. The general had been right in one thing: as his grandson, Hugh was catered to by a court that seemed eager to do whatever he asked.

The rights of the man who’d bought Loch Haven were dismissed as being of no importance, and he was assured he would have his lands and title returned as soon as the law allowed. The man, he learned, was naught but a rich shopkeeper from York. Naturally his claims weren’t
given the same credence as those of the grandson of the duke of Hawkeshill.

“Never mind that now,” he said, turning his thoughts back to his wife. “The solicitor tells us the order is good only in Oxfordshire, which is why we are so certain an attempt will be made to kidnap her. His lordship must take her there. It is the only way for him to get his hands on her money.”

“But what of you?” Alex asked, frowning as he tried to make sense of the earl’s stratagems. “You are her legal guardian; it is your money now. Locking her away won’t change that.”