Trade Winds (Choc Lit) (10 page)

‘Evening, Forster,’ he said.

‘Good evening.’ Forster looked slightly taken aback to be addressed by Killian’s cousin. The two had never been more than nodding acquaintances before.

‘Dreadful squeeze, isn’t it?’ Farquhar glowered at the occupants of the room in general. ‘Didn’t think this was your kind of scene. Not out carousing with my cousin tonight?’

Forster threw him a confused glance, but answered evenly. ‘No, he left for Sweden a few days ago, remember?’

Farquhar hid his surprise. ‘Oh, I thought he wasn’t leaving until the end of the week.’

‘Well, the matter was rather urgent.’ Dougal looked across the room to where Farquhar now spied Iona Cameron simpering at young James Hamilton. The young man’s expression was that of a cornered rat since there was a Cameron relative on either side of the couple. They seemed intent on thwarting any possible escape attempts on the part of the intended groom.

Farquhar would have laughed at this sight, if he hadn’t remembered it should have been Killian at the girl’s side, looking every bit as uncomfortable as Hamilton did now. He drew in a steadying breath to suppress the anger. ‘Yes, so I gather. Sweden seems a drastic choice though, just to avoid parson’s mousetrap. Nasty, cold place, from what I hear.’

‘No more so than here,’ Dougal said. ‘And Gothenburg is in the southern part, Rory said, so perhaps not as cold as all that.’

‘We must hope not, for Killian’s sake. …’

‘Farquhar Kinross, fancy meeting you here.’ The cold voice of Rory Grant sliced across Farquhar’s words. ‘Doing the pretty with your grandfather, are you?’

Farquhar studied Killian’s closest friend through narrowed eyes. Grant didn’t look pleased to find him talking to Forster, and this made Farquhar smile. ‘Someone has to take care of the old man,’ he replied ambiguously and couldn’t resist adding, ‘I’ve just been informed by your friend here,’ he nodded towards Forster, ‘that my cousin has deserted us for the delights of Sweden.’

Grant sent his companion an accusing glare, and Forster blanched, obviously realising his mistake. Farquhar’s smile widened. ‘Well, I’m off. Can’t stand another moment of this purgatory. Good evening to you both.’ He gave them a slightly mocking bow, which was returned as the merest nod by Grant and not at all by the flustered Forster. He sauntered off, trying to suppress a shout of laughter. Killian really should choose his friends with more care, he thought. Forster might be a nice enough man, but when it came to wits, he definitely hadn’t been blessed with his full share.

Still, Farquhar wasn’t complaining. If only all Killian’s cronies had been as stupid, it would have made life a lot easier. Stopping by the door, he stared across the room to where Forster and Grant seemed to be exchanging angry words. When they glanced his way, Farquhar gave them one last mocking bow before leaving. In return, he received only icy glares, but he didn’t care.

He had all the information he needed.

Chapter Nine

‘Please may I be excused from dinner,
Moeder
? I have a dreadful headache.’

Jess hovered just inside the door of the nursery. She was hoping for a quick reply so she could flee back to her bedroom before Robert came upstairs to change. She really did have a headache, although it was more of a nagging sensation at the back of her head than anything else. Either way, it was as good an excuse as any.

Jess had spent the afternoon fuming about Robert’s unfair treatment of her. The last thing she wanted was another evening making strained conversation with him and Mrs Forbes. Her mother hardly ever contributed. She was usually too tired from running around after her sons all day, so it was up to the other three to make small talk, something Jess couldn’t stand.

When Jess entered the room, her mother had been in the middle of helping the nursemaid make the boys ready for bed. It was a task the servant could very well have done on her own, but which Katrijna insisted on supervising every evening. There didn’t seem to be a single aspect of her younger children’s daily routine she didn’t want to be involved in, Jess thought resentfully.
She never asks how I spend my time except when she needs me for something
. Jess knew that was unjust though. Katrijna was merely a mother hen, forever anxious about her smaller chicks.

Katrijna struggled to pull a clean nightshirt over the head of a recalcitrant James. She looked round at Jess with a frown, her face flushed with irritation and effort. ‘Not today, dear. We have a guest coming, Robert said. He won’t be very pleased with you if you don’t attend. Why don’t you ask cook for a tisane? I’m sure if you lie down for a short while you’ll be as right as rain.’

Jess’ heart sank. She very much hoped the guest wasn’t the man she had encountered in the hall, but it seemed more than likely. Had he told Robert about her rude remarks?
That’s all I need!

‘Please, Mama? I’m sure Robert’s guest would rather discuss business and such matters with him. With Mrs Forbes at the table you’ll be an even number, you don’t need me.’

Katrijna shook her head. ‘No, I’m sorry, but I’m too tired to make proper conversation. Robert will need your help. You can talk about sensible things, while you know Mrs Forbes does nothing but gossip.’ She noticed Jess’ look of distress and came over to put a hand on her daughter’s arm. ‘Come, my dear, our guest might be an eligible young man. Didn’t you say just the other day you were longing for a husband of your own? You’ll never catch one hiding yourself away in your room.’

I have no chance of catching anyone
, Jess wanted to scream, but something made her hold back. She couldn’t tell her mother about her lack of dowry and Robert’s part in that. It would only upset her and no doubt there would be a terrible scene. Somehow, it would all end up being Jess’ fault and she’d be no better off than she was now. No, she had to find a way out of her predicament by herself.

‘Very well,’ she sighed. ‘If you need me, of course I’ll come down. I’ll go and see cook now.’

‘You do that. And while you’re there, can you make sure she’s warming some milk for the boys? Please check that it’s not boiling like yesterday, they really don’t like it lumpy. I’m forever telling cook to heat the milk slowly, but she won’t listen.’

‘Yes,
Moeder
.’

Her mother’s thoughts had returned to her boys and Jess was on the outside once again.

Killian knocked on the front door to the Fergusson house for the second time that day with a slight feeling of anticipation building up inside him. It had been a long time since he’d felt anything other than bored with his existence. Somehow, coming to Sweden had changed all that. It was as if he had turned a corner and the past was no longer important. He intended to make the most of his new life, learning as much as he could in record time. He was tired of living on the fringes of society, scraping by. He wanted to make his way in the world and show his grandfather he didn’t need him or his inheritance.

He needed no one.

Knowledge was power, as he’d said to Captain Craig. Therefore he had spent the afternoon trying to find out more about Gothenburg in general and the Fergusson family in particular. Fortunately Murdoch, the Scottish landlord at
Vita Hjorten
, was a gregarious fellow who was very happy to spend time chatting with his guests. He accepted a tankard of ale with alacrity and after a few sips, there was no stopping him. He was an absolute fount of useful information. For the moment, however, Killian was mostly interested in details about the Fergusson household, so that he would know who he was dealing with. He steered the conversation in that direction with a couple of innocent questions.

‘Fergusson is a canny one,’ the landlord said, tapping a fat finger on his nose. ‘Keeps himself to himself mostly and doesn’t mix much with the rest of us.’ He looked around in a furtive manner and lowered his tone. ‘I’ve heard tell he’s ruthless when it comes to business dealings. There’ve been rumours of clashes with other merchants, but no hard facts. He wasted no time in hitching himself to the grieving widow when his partner passed away. Didn’t even wait a year for proper mourning, but then I suppose the lady needed looking after. Her and her daughter both.’

‘Daughter?’ Killian prompted, very interested in this tale.

‘Yes, Miss van Sandt. Pretty little blonde girl, Fergusson’s stepdaughter. Well, I say girl, but she must be all of nineteen or twenty now. Little heiress I suppose, seeing as she was her father’s only child. Fergusson’ll be looking after her inheritance until she marries though and that may not be any time soon.’

‘Why not?’ If Miss van Sandt was the girl he’d met that morning, as he assumed she must be, Killian saw no reason why she shouldn’t marry. There had been nothing wrong with her that he could see. In fact, coupled with a substantial inheritance she would be quite a temptation to any man.

‘Ah, well, now here’s a story.’ Murdoch smiled knowingly and lowered his voice again, making sure no one was listening. ‘It was the talk of the town last year, so it was. Her and a young Swedish nobleman, madly in love they were the pair of them, inseparable at any gathering apparently. Then suddenly she’s gone, disappeared into thin air.’ The landlord clicked his fingers together to emphasise his point. ‘Turns out he didn’t love her after all, had only been toying with her feelings to get at her dowry. Someone spilled the beans and she, poor girl, suffered from a broken heart. Had to go and nurse it in the country for nearly a year. And her such a lovely young lady, fair boggles the mind, don’t it?’

‘Indeed. But now she’s back?’

‘Yes, been seen out and about. Saw her myself a few days ago, but didn’t look too happy to me. Perhaps she’s still suffering, poor mite? Love is a strange thing.’

Killian was sure there must be more to it than that. Miss van Sandt certainly hadn’t looked the sort of young lady who’d suffer from a broken heart for a whole year. She was much too spirited for that. And why had she been at loggerheads with her stepfather? An enigma, to be sure, but Killian liked a challenge. He decided to keep his eyes and ears open.

As he waited for the door to the Fergusson house to open, Killian wondered again whether Miss van Sandt would be present at supper. It would certainly make for a more interesting evening, particularly if she was still in a temper. The thought made him smile just as a maid opened the door, and the poor girl jumped and stared wide-eyed at this sight before recalling her duties.

‘
God afton och välkommen, Herrn
.’ She lowered her gaze and curtseyed, then took his cloak before showing him into the parlour. This was a large room at the back of the house dominated by an impressive floor-to-ceiling stove made of blue and white Delft tiles. The brass hatch at the front was open, allowing the heat from the fire to penetrate the room, but Killian still felt a chill in the air. He guessed the parlour wasn’t used very often and the fire had only just been lit. A slightly musty odour wafting through the room seemed to confirm this.

The room itself was otherwise fairly plain. The walls were painted a muted grey and the floorboar
ds sanded and scrubbed until they were almost white. A great deal of furniture − too much Killian thought – was crammed in seemingly without purpose. There were massive ornately-painted cupboards, a lot of high-backed chairs that looked uncomfortable and several tables covered with linen cloths. The walls held a mirror in a carved and gilded frame as well as some dark paintings and wall hangings. A brass chandelier illuminated the gloom of the early evening.

Apart from his host, the room also contained three ladies, all dressed in plain gowns in shades of brown or grey. Killian was pleased to see that one of them was the little Valkyrie he had met earlier. He didn’t look at her, however, but concentrated on greeting Fergusson. ‘Good evening. I hope I’m not late?’

‘Not at all, Kinross, we sup at six as I told you. Come and meet my wife.’ Robert Fergusson ushered him towards the ladies, who all stood up to greet him. ‘Katrijna, my dear, this is a distant relative of mine, Killian Kinross, the grandson of Lord Rosyth. You remember I told you about him? Rosyth is my mother’s cousin.’

‘Yes, of course.’ Katrijna Fergusson was a small, slightly plump woman with hair the colour of ripe corn. Although she must have been pretty once, her beauty had faded and there were lines of tiredness and worry etched into her face. The pale blue eyes, fringed with sandy eyelashes, were dull and unfocussed, as if she was forever thinking about something other than the present. Killian bowed over her hand and murmured ‘How do you do, Ma’am?’

‘This is Jessamijn van Sandt, my stepdaughter,’ Robert continued.

Killian immediately detected a slightly harder edge to the man’s voice when he said the girl’s name. Obviously the antagonism she felt for Fergusson was mutual, which was interesting. ‘A pleasure to meet you, Miss van Sandt,’ he said and bowed over her hand in the same way as he had her mother’s. Instead of merely pretending to kiss the back of it, however, he allowed his lips to graze the soft skin. He hid a smile when he heard her quick intake of breath.

‘Mr Kinross,’ she said in a voice as cold as the icy depths of her grey eyes. Killian just nodded politely and moved on to the next lady.

‘And this is Mrs Oona Forbes, another relation of mine, but on my father’s side,’ Fergusson said. ‘She is Jessamijn’s companion.’