Chapter Ten
Having overseen the delivery to the cove behind the Border Inn, Alban sent the boat back to The Albatross and walked up to the inn. Not for payment—that had been discreetly left under a marker stone as promised—but to keep his appointment with Mr. Johnstone.
He found him easily in the inn’s quiet coffee parlor. Idly, Alban wondered if men like Johnstone were ever young, or if they never actually got old. For Johnstone, with his balding head, spectacles, and plain black, old-fashioned coat, looked exactly as he had twelve years ago. And would probably look the same in another twelve.
“Mr. Johnstone,” he said, holding out his hand.
Johnstone’s head snapped up from his newspaper, his eyes widening as they scanned Alban’s person. “Good Lord.” He jumped to his feet, taking the outstretched hand eagerly. “Mr. Lamont! It really is you! I’d never have recognized you, but now that I look, you’re the living spit of your father.”
“Don’t say that,” Alban said wryly, indicating that they should both sit. “How are you? How is Mrs. Johnstone? And the family?”
Mr. Johnstone beamed. “Well, I thank you, sir, very well indeed. They would send their greetings and very best wishes if I’d told them I was meeting you. But in truth, I was afraid it was a hoax and didn’t mention you. My wife will be so happy.”
“Hmm,” Alban said, somewhat thrown by this effusion. “And what did you discover, sir? Is there a chance of pardon for me? The possibility of inheriting the Scottish estates?”
“You’ve already been pardoned,” Johnstone said dryly. “According to Mr. Douglas, who handles your family’s business in Scotland, Lord Roseley, your brother, petitioned the Scottish courts who dismissed the charges. Apparently, the Duke of Kelburn recanted and said he was mistaken in the identity of the poacher. Therefore, there was no crime and you did nothing wrong in freeing him.”
Alban stared. “He recanted? When the devil did he do that?”
“Four years ago, when Nicholas asked for your pardon.”
“But I was the poacher,” Alban said. “Kelburn knew that from the beginning. I told him.”
“Well, he didn’t accuse you.”
“He’d sacrifice Willie Kerr,” Alban said bitterly. “But not the noble blood of a Lamont. Willie Kerr would have died for something he didn’t even do.”
“I know,” Johnstone said. “Sadly, it is the way of the world.”
“Not of mine,” Alban said disgustedly.
Johnstone smiled. “But then, you were always a rebel, Mr. Lamont. Where have you been? What on earth have you been doing with yourself over those twelve years? No one could find you when you were pardoned, or when Lord Roseley, your brother, died.”
“You don’t want to know. Two questions, sir. Is there any reason why I shouldn’t be the legal guardian of Nick’s children, as Nick stipulated in his will?”
“None at all.”
“And the Scottish estates are mine?”
“They are. You must send to Mr. Douglas.”
Alban leapt to his feet, unable to be still. “In time,” he agreed. “For the moment, this is what I wanted to hear.” He paced to the window and back, longing suddenly to be back aboard The Albatross with Bella. Captain Alban was a hopeless match for her, but the Honorable Alban Lamont wasn’t so bad…
His heart felt as if it was bursting. For she’d have taken him as Captain Alban. She loved him. He drew in his breath as if to drag back his escaping imagination, and swung around to face Johnstone once more.
“What do you know of this Radnor character that Marianne has married?”
“Nothing very much. He is beneath her in birth, was desperate for the aristocratic connection. And Lady Roseley is…not the kind of woman who manages well without a husband. Why—”
“Is he decent?” Alban interrupted.
“I’ve never heard anything against him. A few sharp business practices perhaps, but nothing illegal.”
“I went to Roseley,” Alban said abruptly. “The children were living there alone with a bunch of unknown servants, including one brute I wouldn’t leave in charge of a dog. Neglected, barely fed. I know Marianne would never stand for that, but the thing is, servants would not dare behave so unless they were either sure they’d get away with it. Or were under express orders.”
“But why would Mr. Radnor order such a thing? What would he gain?”
“If Leo died? Use of Roseley for Marianne’s lifetime.”
“On the contrary, you would inherit the lands and the title.”
“But Radnor can’t know that I’m alive. Nick didn’t. You didn’t. As far as anyone knows, Leo is the last of the Roseley Lamonts.”
Johnstone stared at him in horror. “You really believe the children are in danger?”
“Less so now. At least the servants don’t seem prepared to commit outright murder. I put the fear of God into them and wrote to Marianne. She should be at Roseley in a few days. And I’m keeping my eye on them.”
*
Bella sat alone in the captain’s cabin, on one of the dining chairs, her knees drawn up under her chin as she gazed out of the window at the rolling sea. Not for the first time today, she felt bemused. Because it seemed there was no longer any need to rush her life. According to Dr. Gowan, she was not about to die.
He was a strange doctor. He did not talk about humors and blood-letting, but had asked her a lot of questions about her life, her likes and dislikes, what she was doing when she felt ill, and when she felt well. He’d listened carefully to her pulse and her chest and examined her ears, her throat, and the underside of her eyelids.
Then he’d pulled up a chair and sat facing her, leaning forward to speak confidentially.
“I can find nothing wrong with you.”
Bella blinked. “Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“But doctors have never found nothing wrong with me!”
“Well, you’re not a particularly robust young woman, and I daresay you were a sickly child. I’m sure there were many times when there was something wrong. Now is not one of those times. But I hear no irregularity in your lungs or your heart that might cause concern. You don’t have consumption.”
“I don’t?” She couldn’t help sounding doubtful. After all, she’d spent the last two years growing used to the idea that she would not live to be old. “I do cough a lot,” she said humbly. “My chest gets tight and I feel as if I can’t breathe.”
“So you said.” Dr. Gowan regarded her thoughtfully. “And it happens only when you are acutely uncomfortable, when people are nagging you or when you are put in situations which you find intolerable. It seems to be your body’s way of escaping those situations. The cough, the wheezy chest must all be very temporary reactions, for there’s no trace of them, save for the faintest irritation I can see in your throat. In my opinion, you suffer from nothing more than unhappiness and a morbid shyness and sensitivity.”
She frowned, mulling that over.
“Think about it,” Dr. Gowan said. “You have not coughed once since being on board this ship. Despite being abducted and swimming some distance in a cold sea. In fact, if I am right, you have coughed less in the last week or so.”
“I…I suppose I have.” She thought about the Assembly ball, and the vicar’s soiree.
“And I don’t think,” Dr. Gowan added delicately, “that you ever cough in the captain’s presence.”
She smiled. “He does seem to frighten it away…” She raised her eyes to the doctor’s. “I’m happy with him so I don’t cough.”
“You may take from that what you wish,” Dr. Gowan said hastily. “Though by the same token, you are clearly happy with me, too! Let us just say, you are more comfortable in certain company than other. Which is odd, perhaps since most well-born ladies would be having hysterics in this kind of company.”
Bella laughed. “You wrong us, sir, and your own company!”
“Perhaps. Anyhow, my advice to you is simply to avoid the company and the situations that make you uncomfortable. And be happy.”
It all made a strange kind of sense, though sitting here thinking about it afterward, she wasn’t sure she liked the idea of being made ill by her own family. Still, it was true she was always worse around her father and eldest brother who constantly found fault in her and shouted about it. She thought of the suitors who’d courted her father’s influence and merely tolerated her as a necessary means to that end. The elegant and fashionable who’d discounted if not despised her; the wits before whom she’d been tongue-tied and gauche. The dislike had been mutual in most cases. She’d been too shy to get to know strangers and had done nothing to make them want to know her. The result had been social misery, in stark contrast to the rest of her family’s easy social success.
And then, barely a week ago, Alban had burst into her life in the most bizarre of circumstances…and it seemed as if the sun had come out. Love had come quickly to her in the end. For although it would have been easy to confuse easy companionship for love, she knew this feeling was more. For one thing, he wasn’t always an easy or comfortable man.
She smiled. From the deck above, came a slew of shouted commands, and running footsteps as the men hastened to obey. The captain was back.
Her heart beat faster as she anticipated his presence. She felt the sudden surge of movement as the sails filled and the ship got under way. A few more shouts—she was sure she could recognize Alban’s voice—and then hasty footsteps clattered down the steps by the cabin door.
She turned her head as Alban strode in and came to a sudden halt. He still wore the dark coat and light breeches that seemed to be his normal shipboard dress, but his clothes didn’t matter. His presence filled the room, vital, commanding and yet curiously soothing. As if nothing was quite right without him.
He kicked the door shut behind him. “What is it? Are you well?”
“Apparently, yes.”
He crossed the room to crouch down at her knees. “What did Gowan say?”
“That I am not consumptive. That lacking the spirit to tell my family to go to the devil, I cough at them instead.”
A glint of amusement lit his eyes. “I doubt he said quite that.”
“You don’t seem surprised.”
“I’m not. I’m no doctor, but I could see how different you were in different situations. After our first meeting, when you charmed me utterly, I saw you from the coffee house with your aunts. You looked…crushed. And you always recovered immediately when you were taken out of stressful situations.”
“I am a poor creature,” she said ruefully.
He took her hands and kissed them, one after the other. “You’re nothing of the sort. You’re just too kind to dig in your heels and refuse people.”
“My aunts love me in their own way. It’s just…Aunt Maria’s eldest daughter died most tragically and she’s convinced I shall go the same way. And Sarah is so fed up with her spinster’s lot that she is determined I shall not suffer similarly, even if she has to tie me to an octogenarian fortune hunter or to a youth barely breeched.”
His hand tightened on hers. “Well, now you may tie yourself to me. If you wish.”
It was nothing like any offer she had received before. In fact, it was so casually made it brought a smile to her lips. She didn’t even know—or care—if it was marriage he proposed. She reached out and touched his hair, his rough cheek. “I wish.”
He dipped his head, kissing her hands once more. “You are wonderful, you know. You’ve no idea who I am, that my birth is as respectable if not quite as high-ranking, as yours.” He drew in his breath. “I am Lord Roseley’s second son, Leo’s rebellious uncle.”
“Yes, I know,” she admitted.
He blinked. “You know?”
“I saw Leo’s letter addressed to you. Alban is not a common name.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
She shrugged. “It was your secret and it made no real difference except to my understanding of you. But I think we should have people look into your case, for it does seem harsh treatment. If you’d like to go home, that is.”
“I’d like the opportunity,” he said honestly. “Although I can’t imagine staying there forever. My feet are restless, Bella, by nature more than circumstance.”
She searched his eyes, which didn’t look hard at all, but heart-stoppingly warm. “Do you think…I could come with you? On occasions,” she added hastily, in case he might find this too constricting.
“I would like that most of all,” he said softly, leaning toward her. “But my wife must do whatever she wishes.”
She smiled because he’d said wife, and he paused, his lips hovering over hers. “You did say yes, didn’t you?”
“I think I said it a long time ago,” she whispered and kissed him.
*
With a fair wind behind them, they made good time back to Blackhaven. Bella couldn’t help being disappointed as she came to the end of her voyage, but at least she knew she would see Alban again soon, that she had a bright future of unexpected happiness to look forward to. She wouldn’t even mind her aunts’ scolding. Life was too wonderful.
Alban came with her in the small boat, as did Cairney, the coxswain who rowed for them. For purposes of discretion, since it was growing dark, Alban ordered the man to row into Blackhaven Cove rather than the harbor.
“I don’t see that it’s much more discreet,” Bella observed from her bench in the middle of the boat.
Seated opposite her, in the front of the boat, Alban shrugged. “An evening stroll in the town seems less likely to cause gossip than landing in the harbor directly from my ship.”
“Unless there are people in the cove,” Cairney pointed out, pulling strongly on the oars behind her.
Alban shrugged. “They’re unlikely to be the sort of people we need to worry about.”
Bella considered. “I don’t think I care either way.”
Alban regarded her, his eyes gleaming in the fading light. “Some of my wickedness is clearly rubbing off on you.”
“It isn’t wickedness,” she said at once. “Just a disinterest in other people’s opinion of me. Or you.”
His knee moved, brushing against hers. “I should have brought you ashore at once,” he admitted.
“Yes,” she agreed. She smiled. “But I’m glad you didn’t.”
As they drew into the shore at last, Alban jumped out into the shallow water and plucked her up out of the boat as if she’d weighed no more than a kitten. Her instinctive protest died on her lips, for it was unexpectedly sweet to be carried ashore in such strong, steady arms.
Her heart beat faster as he let her feet slip down onto the sand, but perhaps mindful of possible onlookers, he released her with no more than the twitch of one eyebrow, before turning back to the boat.
Having helped Cairney drag it up the sand to safety, he took an unlit lantern from the bottom of the boat and gave it to Cairney. “Go to the livery stables and see that the two horses I bespoke are ready. I’ll meet you there.”
“Aye, sir.”
Cairney ran up the path ahead of them, and melted into the distance.
“Where are you going?” Bella asked.
“To Roseley.”
She glanced at him uncertainly. “With Cairney?”
“Well, I don’t want Jenkins assuming I’ll always come alone. He might forget to be afraid.”
Bella sighed with unease. “I wish their mother would come.”
“It’s their stepfather I’d like a word with,” Alban said grimly.
It was, perhaps fortunately, a quiet time of the evening, between dinner and later entertainments, so there weren’t many of the fashionable abroad in the town. Nevertheless, Bella was sure someone would see them, that word would, inevitably, get back to her aunts.
“What will you tell them?” Alban asked abruptly.
“That Mr. Tranter abducted me and I jumped in the sea and would have died if you hadn’t rescued me and allowed your doctor to look after me.”
Although he didn’t reply, his quick, warm glance, told her he was proud of her.
Inside the hotel foyer, they shook hands politely, and if his thumb caressed her wrist, and she squeezed his fingers just a little too much, no one else would have been able to tell.
“I’ll call on you tomorrow,” he said.
“I look forward to it,” she said breathlessly. It was oddly difficult to draw her hand away and leave him, but she did it. When she glanced back from the stairs, he still stood there, watching her, and somehow that gave her happiness and her strength enough of a boost to reach the top of the staircase and walk along the passage to the suite of rooms she shared with her aunts.
The door opened easily to her touch.
Jenson squealed and dropped a tray. “Oh, your ladyship!”
“Bella!” Aunt Maria exclaimed, hurrying toward her.
“Oh, my dear, where have you been?” Sarah demanded, closing in from the other side.
Bella remained rooted to the spot with horror, for in the middle of the room between her aunts, sat her father and Sir George Beaton, the man whose offer of marriage had placed her in such disgrace as to be banished to Blackhaven.
The Duke of Kelburn’s face was thunderous.