A Highland Conquest Read online

  Hester’s eyes widened. “American wife?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, that’s why he spoke as he did in London.”

  “I believe so, but I really don’t know any more than that.”

  Hester’s glance encompassed her again. “I still believe you’ve made a conquest, Lauren. He seems to be going out of his way to be agreeable toward you.”

  “I’d like to think you were right, Hester,” Lauren confessed a little unguardedly.

  “You’d like to? Does that mean you—?”

  Lauren wished she’d been more circumspect. “It means that I’m going to be all that’s sensible, and leave well alone,” she declared firmly. “The last thing I need is an unhappy entanglement, and that’s what I’d get if I allowed myself to succumb in this particular instance.”

  “But—”

  “No, Hester, just forget I admitted anything. Please.”

  Reluctantly Hester nodded. “Very well.”

  “Thank you.”

  Hester turned from the window. “I confess I’m all agog to see Fitz’s wife again, and this extra delay, even if it’s only a few more hours, has simply served to heighten my curiosity. I’m dying to know if my first impression of her was correct.”

  “It probably was,” Lauren murmured.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Oh, nothing.” Lauren decided not to say anything, after all she only had her intuition to go by, and it might be that she was wrong about the identity of the lady at the inn.

  “Alex can’t wait to see her again, either. He’s still trying to remember where he saw her before.”

  “He’s still convinced that he did?”

  “Oh, yes. Absolutely.” Hester sighed. “Well, I suppose I’d better go. I gather the boating party is set to commence at three, and Alex and I will go down to the garden just before then if you wish to join us.”

  “Thank you. I’ll do that.”

  Hester gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and then hastened away.

  Lauren went to the window and looked out once more. The loch glittered almost dazzlingly, and suddenly the waters of Loch Vane in August became the waters of Boston Roads in May. She thought of Jonathan again, and her fingers crept to the golden locket at her throat.

  Chapter 6

  The gardens at Glenvane Castle were very lovely indeed, and at this time of the year were at the height of their beauty. The beds were colorful with roses, pinks, and delphiniums, and fountains played in the sunshine as Rory’s many guests gathered for the boating party. There were statues, raised lily pools, gazebos, and a shell-studded grotto which had been built over a disused well. The well was now sealed with an iron grille, and the grotto boasted elegant seats and some of the most heavily scented honeysuckle Lauren had ever known.

  * * *

  On seeing carriage after carriage of picnickers returning from the head of the loch a little earlier, she had wondered if the whole of Mayfair had upped and come to Scotland! When Rory had promised no lack of company he had not exaggerated, and the chatter and laughter in the garden was quite considerable. It was a very happy gathering, and there was no doubt that Lady Mary’s birthday celebrations were a great success.

  Lauren sat in the grotto with Hester, Alex, and Fitz, as well as a number of other people, some of whom she’d met in London. Fitz was in a withdrawn mood, as indeed he’d been since learning that his wife’s arrival would be delayed until the afternoon. Lauren was still privately convinced that Emma and the lady at the Crown & Thistle would be one and the same, and if that were so, then the Fitzsimmons marriage couldn’t be as secure as might be expected only a year after the wedding in Dublin. Fitz was most definitely preoccupied, and Lauren couldn’t help glancing frequently toward him. She wondered what he was thinking, and, inevitably, she wondered if Mary figured at all in those thoughts.

  Aside from her secret musings about Fitz’s private life, Lauren was now feeling much refreshed and revitalized after washing and changing out of her traveling clothes. Now she wore a pretty turquoise-and-white striped lawn gown and her hair was pinned loosely on top of her head and tied with a pink ribbon. She carried a fringed pink parasol and there was a turquoise velvet reticule looped over her wrist.

  Beside her in the grotto, Hester was in vivacious mood as she made little secret of her eager anticipation. “Oh, I can hardly wait to be out on the loch. I love boating!” she said, smoothing the skirts of her cream silk gown.

  Alex poked her arm teasingly. “You don’t always. I seem to recall you were somewhat seasick when we last went out on the Thames.”

  “That was at Greenwich, and there was a horrid wind, to say nothing of a full tide and a luncheon of rather doubtful salmon!” Hester protested.

  “Yes, as doubtful as that red grouse you would have last night,” he observed.

  “Oh, do stop going on about the grouse. I feel perfectly all right, and am sure there was nothing wrong with it.” Hester smiled at him. “In fact, please stop grousing about the grouse!”

  He grinned. “Very well, not another word will cross my lips.”

  “Good.” Hester looked past him toward the castle, where Rory, Isabel, Jamie, and Mary had just emerged to descend to join the gathering.

  Mary was delightful in orange as she enjoyed pride of place on Rory’s arm, and Isabel, who wore forget-me-not blue, was escorted by Jamie, a fact which she quite obviously did not like, if her stormy face was anything by which to judge.

  Hester raised an eyebrow. “It would seem dear Isabel isn’t amused about being eclipsed by Mary,” she murmured.

  Alex frowned at his wife. “Don’t be so uncharitable. Isabel isn’t at all as disagreeable as you think.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  Lauren glanced at Hester, and then leaned closer to whisper. “Do you think Lady Maxby is Lord Glenvane’s mistress?”

  “I don’t only think it, I know it. Alex told me. He and Rory dined together at their club the evening before Rory left London, and it seems Rory admitted it then.”

  Fresh disappointment washed through Lauren, for there was a wealth of difference between wondering if that was how it was between Rory and Isabel and actually knowing it for a fact. Why she’d entertained hopes was a mystery to her. Rory had confessed in London that Isabel had a place in his life, and she should have had the common sense to accept the situation then. But whenever she thought of the handsome Earl of Glenvane, or worse, when she was actually in his presence, practical thought flew willy-nilly out of the window!

  * * *

  But events were in train which would cause Isabel even more displeasure than taking second place to Mary, for she was about to be relegated yet again, and this time by none other than Lauren. It happened as the whole party was adjourning to the jetty, where the pleasure boats, each large enough for a lady and a gentleman, had all been made ready with comfortable cushions and little hampers containing glasses and bottles of refreshing iced lemonade. Lauren was on Fitz’s arm as their party proceeded after the rest when suddenly she noticed a brief but rather heated exchange taking place between Isabel and Rory. They’d drawn slightly to one side, and Isabel was very displeased about something. She even went so far as to stamp her foot, but Rory remained adamant. He shook his head and pointed to Jamie, who was waiting with Mary on the jetty.

  Isabel’s face was fiery as with an ill grace she stalked on to the jetty, and allowed Jamie to assist her into one of the boats. Lauren was so engrossed in watching Isabel’s angry display that she didn’t notice Rory pairing Fitz with Mary. It wasn’t until he came over to her that she realized how he’d manipulated everything. “I trust you will not mind suffering my company, Miss Maitland?”

  She looked hesitantly at him. “I’m very honored, Lord Glenvane,” she said.

  “The honor is entirely mine,” he replied.

  With a shy smile, she slipped her hand over his sleeve, and they proceeded on to the jetty, where the boats awaited. Hardly a
nyone else noticed what had taken place, except Jamie, Fitz and Mary, and Isabel, of course. The latter observed everything with stony-faced resentment as she was rowed away from the jetty. Only one other person glanced back with interest, and that was Hester. Lauren’s cousin gave a very knowing smile. I told you so, the smile said, you have made a conquest! Lauren felt uncomfortable about the whole thing, for although she felt no sympathy at all for Isabel, whose conduct so far had been less than praiseworthy, the fact remained that she, not Lauren Maitland, had first claim upon the Earl of Glenvane.

  Rory handed Lauren into the last remaining boat. He wore a dark gray coat with light gray trousers, and his unstarched neckcloth fluttered slightly in the soft breeze as he stepped down into the boat after her. She made herself comfortable on the cushions in the stern, and he discarded his top hat as he took up the oars. Soon the jetty and shore slipped away behind as the little boat cut through the dazzling water.

  Lauren observed Mary and Fitz and wondered if he was quite as unaware of his companion’s adoration as he made out. Maybe he was flattered to be the object of her affections? He certainly paid her every attention and found her agreeable to be with, for he was laughing at something she said. It was a warm laugh, and he was comfortable and at ease. As for Mary, well, the signs were all there to be read, from the pretty flush on her cheeks to the shyly lowered eyes.

  With a sigh, Lauren lay back on the cushions, her parasol twirling gently as she watched Rory rowing. Why had he singled her out like this? It would be flatteringly agreeable to think that Hester was right, but somehow she didn’t think that that was it. Perhaps it was the unflatteringly simple fact that he and Isabel were temporarily at odds and he was endeavoring to make his mistress jealous. If that were so, then he appeared to be succeeding!

  There was much laughter and good humor as the colorful flotilla glided on the loch. Some of the boaters made for the nearest of the islands, which were dotted everywhere, but others, like Rory and Lauren, simply remained out on the water. Lauren gazed toward the castle. “You are a very fortunate man, Lord Glenvane,” she said after a moment.

  “Fortunate?”

  “To be master of all this.” She looked around at the magnificent scenery.

  “Ah, Yes, I do not deny it, for I believe Glenvane to be one of the most beautiful places on earth.”

  She nodded. “I think you may be right, sir.”

  “How long will you be here in Britain, Miss Maitland?”

  “Oh, a few months more, I suppose. I mean to be home in time for Christmas.”

  “Boston’s gain will be Britain’s loss.”

  “How gallant you are, sir.”

  “Meaning, how glib I am?” he murmured, smiling at her as he rested the oars for a moment. “Yes, I suppose it might have sounded like that, but in truth I was paying you an honest compliment.”

  “Then I thank you, Lord Glenvane,” she replied.

  “You have a dry way with you, Miss Maitland.”

  “I didn’t mean to sound dry, sir.”

  “You also have a way of confounding me. Here I am, practicing my devastating charm, and yet I have the uncomfortable feeling that you are laughing at me.”

  “That is not so, sir.”

  “I will take your word for it.”

  She studied him. “Actually, I’ve been wondering exactly why you’ve singled me out like this. Am I the stick with which to beat Lady Maxby?” She hardly knew the words were on her lips, and color immediately flooded her cheeks.

  He met her gaze. “Is that how you see my conduct?”

  “I…I cannot help but wonder.”

  “I fear you do not know me at all.”

  “That I cannot deny.”

  He smiled a little, and took up the oars once more. “You will know me better soon, I promise you,” he murmured.

  She felt quite dreadful as he rowed on across the loch. What on earth had possessed her to ask such an improper question? It was hardly surprising that he had responded in the way he had. She’d been put in her place, but in the nicest possible way! Embarrassed color lingered on her cheeks, and she did all she could to avoid catching his eyes. Of the many things of which she might from time to time have been guilty, forward and indiscreet enquiries did not figure on the list. She wished the boating party would end, and soon!

  But it was far from over yet, and they were a long way across the loch, close to the choppier water at the mouth of the River Vane, when at last Rory shipped the oars. “A glass of lemonade would be very welcome after all that rowing, Miss Maitland,” he said, nodding toward the hamper.

  Quickly she put her parasol aside and leaned across, but as she did so her locket suddenly slipped from around her throat, and fell to the bottom of the boat. It lay open, its contents revealed.

  Rory rescued it, and glanced at Jonathan’s portrait before handing it back to her. “You are attached, Miss Maitland?”

  “I was, Lord Glenvane, but Jonathan is dead.”

  “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to—”

  “You weren’t to know, sir.”

  “When did he die?”

  She took the locket as he handed it back. “You may wish you hadn’t asked, sir.”

  “But I have asked, Miss Maitland.”

  “Jonathan was an officer on USS Chesapeake, and he was killed in the action against HMS Shannon.”

  He held her eyes for a long moment. “It would seem you have little reason to like the British, Miss Maitland.”

  “As little reason as you would seem to have to like the Americans, sir.”

  “The conflict between the Chesapeake and the Shannon was honorable. The same cannot be said where my wife is concerned.” He paused, as if unsure of whether to continue or not.

  Lauren saw his indecision. “Lord Glenvane, if you wish to tell me about it, then as I have already said, I am more than willing to listen.”

  “I thought earlier that maybe you were only being polite.”

  “I meant what I said. Please tell me about your wife.”

  “Very well. I met Fleur in New York, and fell hopelessly in love with her. At first she spurned my attentions, but then was suddenly all eagerness, which should have warned me. We married, and she accompanied me back here. I didn’t realize it at the time, but she married me in order to support the worthless layabout she really loved, and she knew that he was following us here to Glenvane. She continued to see him, using the generous allowance I gave her to lavish attention upon him. But he became greedy, and she was rash. They stole my mother’s jewels and fled to Glasgow, meaning to take passage back to New York, but I discovered the theft and followed them. I wasn’t concerned about keeping Fleur, for her conduct had extinguished my love, but I was most definitely determined to get the jewels back. When I confronted them both, he soon proved to be a craven coward. Fearing a duel with me, he compelled her to return the jewels, and this she did. She brought them to my hotel, which was opposite their inn, but from the window she saw him leaving. He was going to desert her because she was no longer the fount of plenty as far as he was concerned. She hurried out of the hotel to try to halt him, but she ran in front of a carriage and was trampled by the team.”

  Lauren stared at him.

  He thought he’d offended her with such a tale. “Forgive me, I really shouldn’t have—”

  “There is nothing to forgive, Lord Glenvane. In my opinion, your wife behaved abominably, and I find it little wonder that your attitude toward things American has become somewhat jaundiced, but I trust that you will not continue to take her as the yardstick for all her countrywomen. I promise we aren’t all like her,” she said quietly.

  He smiled. “Miss Maitland, you have more than redeemed your nation as far as I’m concerned, and I trust that you will soon be able to say the same of me.” His glance moved fleetingly toward the locket.

  “I do not think I will find it all that difficult, sir, because since I’ve been here in Britain I’ve been obliged to change my views.”


  “We aren’t all black after all?”

  “It would appear not.” She smiled, and closed the locket before putting it and its chain back in her reticule. Then she attended to the business of pouring him some lemonade.

  He accepted the glass. “Actually, your locket is very like one of my mother’s.”

  “Oh?” Isabel had referred to another locket.

  “They might be one and the same item, except that the engraving on yours is far more intricate.”

  He finished the lemonade and then took the oars again, but as the boat began to slide over the water once more, Lauren became conscious of a resentful gaze upon her. It was such a strong sensation that she glanced around to see who was looking. Almost immediately she saw Isabel and Jamie in their boat about fifty yards away. Jamie’s attention was on the shore, where a carriage was crossing the bridge over the River Vane on its way to the castle, but Isabel was intent upon Rory and the long conversation he’d been having with his boating companion. Her expression was one of undiluted jealousy, and her lips were pressed together in a thin line.

  Like Jamie, Rory was looking at the carriage. “Ah, it would seem that Fitz’s mysterious wife has arrived at last. At least, I presume it’s her, for the carriage looks like one of Fitz’s.”

  Lauren watched the vehicle bowl toward the castle. It was the one from the Crown & Thistle. Her suspicions were right. Her glance moved to Jamie, who did not take his eyes off the carriage until it vanished into the castle courtyard. It was clear he longed to row back to the jetty immediately, but that would have been too obvious a thing to do, and so he was forced to dally out on the loch, knowing that when he did go ashore she would not come to him, but to the husband she was deceiving.

  It was another hour before the boating party began to end, and the boats made their separate ways back to the jetty where Emma, Lady Fitzsimmons had come to wait. She was wearing a geranium gown and matching pelisse, and her honey-colored hair was hidden beneath an ivory jockey bonnet from the back of which a long geranium gauze scarf trailed to her hem. She looked dainty and defenseless, and not at all capable of a passionate illicit liaison with Rory’s brother. But Lauren was soon to find out that appearances were most definitely deceptive where Fitz’s wife was concerned, for defenseless the lady certainly was not.