Chapter Five
A hint of pine in the clean, crisp air wafted through the carriage. Peering from the window, Evelyn took in the abundant beauty of the Highlands. Majestic mountains laden with wild purple heather towered over unspoiled green valleys and meadows of wildflowers as far as the eye could see. She adored London and its magnificent architecture, but this pristine land enchanted her. She longed to drink it all in, every moment of this journey.
If only she did not feel as if every tooth might rattle from her head.
Catriona rapped the tip of her parasol against the ceiling. “Driver…” she called. A jolt jarred the word out of her mouth. “Dri—ver.”
The carriage slowed. Evidently, Mr. Royce’s hearing was still keen, despite his advanced years. Evelyn could only hope the same was true of his vision. Considering the man’s breakneck pace, there’d be no room for error if they happened upon a hazard on the rough road.
“I still think we should’ve brought Edson in here, with us,” Bonnie said. “The poor fellow cannae help that he took ill.”
“He seemed to be holding his own. I suspect he’ll be right as rain after a bit of sleep,” Sally said, ever the voice of reason.
“I would’ve risked contamination. ’Tis my Christian duty to aid an ailing man.” A smile danced over Bonnie’s mouth. “Especially when the man in question is as handsome as that one.”
Grace slanted a glance. “Do ye ever tire of chasing after the male variety?”
“The shame of it is, they always manage to evade being caught.” The twinkle in Bonnie’s eyes lent a lightness to her words. “Sooner or later, I’ll outrun one.”
Catriona flicked a hand as if swatting at an insect. “Really, Bonnie? A coachman?”
“Dinnae tell me ye’ve never wondered what’s beneath that crisply pressed uniform. The man’s a strapping one, he is.”
If Catriona had swallowed a pickle and washed it down with brine, she could not have looked more sour. She folded her hands in her lap and stared at them for a long moment before setting her gaze on Bonnie. “If you set your sights so low, you will never make a suitable match.”
“A suitable match? Whatever do I need with that?” Bonnie grinned. “I’ve more than enough money of my own. I dinnae need a man to tell me what to do with my inheritance.”
Catriona reached out and caught Bonnie’s hand in her own, as if coaxing a recalcitrant child to mind her manners. “Still, you must exercise some semblance of decorum. Your dear cousin will soon take Sally as his bride. You must consider how your behavior reflects on her.”
“Nonsense,” Sally spoke up. “If Bonnie wishes to nurse the fellow back to health and test his vigor, that’s entirely her concern.”
“Indeed. What better means to assess the quality of her care.” Grace’s eyes sparked with mischief.
Still clasping Bonnie’s hand, Catriona’s mouth spread into a thin, forced smile. “I can only assume ye’re teasing me. We shall leave it at that.”
Bonnie’s eyes flashed. “If ye should catch sight of a sly grin on the fellow’s face, ye can assume whatever ye’d like about my efforts to aid his recovery.”
The carriage rumbled along, slowing its brisk pace as they approached the estate where Sally would take her vows. Houghton Manor towered above the horizon, an imposing castle of brick and stone framed against a magnificent landscape. Peering from the open window, Evelyn pulled in a breath. The scent of lavender filled her senses. Delightful. Refreshing. Clean. So very unlike the air in London, with its ever-present tinge of soot and the foul smell of refuse wafting off the Thames, smells that could never be confused with wildflowers. If paradise was to be found on earth, surely this would be its location.
The carriage slowed to a stop, and she made her exit. Lady Houghton’s regular driver extended a slightly trembling arm. Edson looked nearly as green as the grassy carpet surrounding them. Apparently, the tumultuous ride had not aided the man’s recovery from his sudden illness.
Fergus hopped down from the carriage bench, surprisingly agile for a man who might’ve been mistaken for a mummy that had shed its wrappings. “Good to see the lad’s making himself useful,” he said cheerfully. “He’ll be back to his old self in no time.”
The younger man shot him a glower, then turned to assist Bonnie from the carriage. The most brazen—if smiles could be considered as such—of grins spread over her sweet, rounded face as she extended her hand.
A gasp popped from her mouth as her smile transformed to a scowl. The old driver clasped her fingers in his bony, gloved hand.
“Fergus Royce at yer service, my dear.” The cagey mummy threw a wink, an unabashedly randy invitation to mischief.
Bonnie jerked away. Wide-eyed, she stared at the old man, gaping like a mackerel plucked fresh from the sea. Until that moment, Evelyn had not realized cheeks could flush quite so pink.
Fergus grinned, displaying a mouth full of snaggle-edged teeth. At the old man’s side, Edson now appeared to be biting back a chuckle as he turned to assist Sally from the coach. Catching sight of Bonnie’s lingering look of horror, Sally pulled her lips tight, as if resisting the urge to laugh.
Edson’s spine stiffened, and the amused twinkle in his dark eyes faded as Catriona nimbly navigated the steps. He appeared to brace himself for what would come next.
Her gaze swept over him, narrowing slightly. “My, you do look a bit peaked. I cannae tell ye how very concerned I was when I was informed ye’d taken ill.” The syrup in her tone did not disguise the coldness in her eyes.
“I am feeling better now, ma’am.” His voice was flat. Emotionless.
“Very good. Please summon the footmen. We’ve packages aboard the coach, far more than ye’ll be able to handle.”
With a crisp nod, Edson took his leave, wasting no time in making his way toward the main house. Even at a distance, Evelyn could make out the slight wobble in his legs. Fergus bounded along at his side, his wiry legs making short work of the distance between him and the mansion.
Once the men were out of earshot, Catriona pinned Bonnie with a smug glare, a cat cornering a canary. “Well, that didnae go as ye planned.”
“Aye, ’tis a fact.” Bonnie’s lower lip quivered. Goodness, was she on the verge of tears?
A sound bubbled up from her throat, sweet and hearty and warm.
Not a giggle. Not a chuckle. But a full-bodied, joyous laugh.
Meeting Catriona’s I-told-you-so glare, she planted her hands on her broad hips, proud as they come. “Did ye see the look in his eye? I couldnae have hoped for better. The old scamp planted a seed in Edson’s mind. A little jealousy is good for the male soul, I always say. Just give me a wee bit of time, my dear. Soon, that strapping man will be mine.”
“Do try to put a smile on yer face, dear. We wouldn’t want anyone to get the idea ye’re not happy for the bride.” Strolling through a lush garden with Evelyn at her side, Lady Houghton coated her admonishment with a thin layer of honey, but there was no taking the sting out of her words.
Evelyn resisted the urge to scowl. She was not so naive as to believe the invitation to tour the garden was a gesture of friendship. At least Catriona had waited until they were alone to hurl her accusation.
Evelyn chose her words carefully. “I am delighted for Sally. Whatever would make you believe I am not?”
Catriona’s slender shoulders lifted and fell. “Ye’ve had that frown since we departed Inverness. Sally is nervous as a hen. She doesnae need anyone to plant a negative seed in her mind.”
“I would never do such a thing. I hope you understand—”
“Of course, dear. Our acquaintance is so very recent, I’ve hardly had a chance to get to know ye. But I should’ve known that a dear friend would never resent the happiness Sally has found with a good man.”
Amazing, really. Catriona had managed to craft a statement that was sweet as jam, yet bore an implication as bitter as bile.
“I wish her only happiness. We’ve been closer than sisters all these years.”
“Sisters are often rivals.” She made a show of plucking a primrose and twirling it between her reed-thin fingers. “But I’m positive ye only want the best for our friend.”
Our friend. Peculiar, how strained the words sounded on the Scotswoman’s lips.
Evelyn held back a sigh. Perhaps she had allowed her mood to become visibly bleak. After what had happened at the bookseller’s shop, joy felt utterly out of place. Her head still throbbed from the stress and confusion of it all. She’d come upon a crime. No one had denied that, even as the Scotsman had tried to explain away what she’d witnessed as nothing more than a thief’s clever ploy.
Even now, she could not reconcile MacMasters’ logic with what she’d seen with her own eyes. She’d never considered herself to be gullible. Could she have been so easily duped? If only she could be certain the injured man was not lying alone in some bleak place, awaiting assistance that would not come.
Apprehension stretched her nerves taut as piano wire. At the very least, she’d witnessed a criminal’s escape. Was it any wonder she’d scarcely been able to muster a smile?
In any case, she’d come to Scotland to see her dearest friend marry. She’d simply have to force a smile and push the upsetting occurrence to the back of her mind.
“I must confess I have a dreadful headache.” Evelyn hoped to change the direction of their conversation. “But that does not impact my happiness for Sally. She and your brother will have a joyful marriage. Of that, there can be no doubt.”
Catriona moved a few steps ahead, pausing before a patch of lavender. “I do so adore this garden. I’ve tended some of the plants myself. I know it may appear unseemly of me to be digging about in the dirt, but I so enjoy the process.”
“Perhaps you will share some of your techniques with me. I’ve no space for a garden now, but perhaps in the future.”
“I’d be happy to…if ye ever find yer way out of dreary old London. I detest all that hideous fog.” Catriona’s eyes softened, just a bit. “Quite a detestable environment. Country air will do ye good.”
Evelyn gave a little shrug. “I rather enjoy life in town. Sally and I recently had quite a wonderful experience at the theater. Our party dined at the Savoy before the performance. All in all, a delightful evening.”
“I’d think ye would lose yer fondness for that place…after what happened with that earl… Lord Whatever-his-name-was…”
“His name is Nigel. You know him as Lord Brandemill.” Even now, years after the scoundrel had crushed her love beneath his heels, his name was bitter on her tongue. Tiny daggers pricked at her heart.
“The incident was…unfortunate, to say the least.”
“Ah, the incident. Such a bland way to describe what happened on the day of my wedding—the day when the man I’d planned to marry…the man I loved…sent another in his place. The cur dared to slander me with an accusation as false as it was outrageous.” She fixed Catriona with a cold gaze. “Nigel’s betrayal left a scar, but I’ve no cause to hide away…though I have learned to avoid those who traffic in vicious innuendo.”
Catriona’s slender throat tensed, though her eyes remained hard as blue diamonds. “I do apologize. I have stirred an unpleasant memory. I meant no harm.”
An unpleasant memory. Could Lady Houghton fathom the depth of her understatement? Pain sliced through Evelyn’s heart, small cuts of a dull knife—the wounds would not destroy her, but she could not deny her suffering. When Nigel had left her standing at the altar to run off with an American heiress whose father’s railroad fortune dwarfed Evelyn’s father’s estate, he’d sought to ruin her. The scoundrel had not succeeded. But it had taken every ounce of Evelyn’s spirit to overcome the damage he’d inflicted on her soul.
“Of course. I understand. I would be lying if I told you the thought of that incident did not seem a dagger to the heart, even now.” Evelyn managed a smile. “But I am delighted that Sally has found a good man—your brother is everything that Nigel was not.”
“Dougal is fortunate to have found such a delightful woman. I am so very pleased to be able to host my brother’s wedding…to my dearest friend, no less. Sally deserves to have the most beautiful day of her life. I am thankful ye can be here, at her side.”
Dearest friend. The words chafed, perhaps unreasonably so. Though Sally had occupied a unique place in Evelyn’s heart since childhood, this was no time for rivalry. She should delight in Sally’s newfound bond with the woman who would soon be a part of her family. This was cause for celebration, not resentment.
If only Catriona did not regard her with those icy blue eyes.
“I could not agree more.” Evelyn forced out the words.
“Ye look a bit peaked, my dear. Perhaps some tea and a biscuit would put some color back in yer complexion.” Catriona pinched a spent bloom off a rose. “This afternoon has proven to be rather taxing. Between that miserable carriage ride and the unpleasantness at the shop, I am relieved it is behind us. That despicable thief had ye jumping to wild conclusions.”
“Wild conclusions?” Evelyn braced herself against a wave of anger. Blast it, she would not allow this high-and-mighty imitation of a friend rattle her. “I know what I saw. If I was duped, the culprit was indeed clever. Any reasonable person would have arrived at the same conclusion.”
Catriona’s mouth curved in a wan semblance of a smile. “In any case, the sooner ye put those difficult moments out of yer mind, the happier ye’ll be.”
If only it were that easy. If only the desperation in the elderly man’s plea did not linger in her thoughts. His skin had been so cool when he took her hand. The very life had seemed to be draining from him. As his strength ebbed, he’d summoned the will to press that bizarre playing card in her hand. Why would he speak of dragons, of all things? If he was feigning injury, he would likely have pretended to be unconscious until she left the store to seek help.
None of it made sense. She would not deny what she’d seen…what she’d heard. No matter how plausible the Highlander’s explanation.
A vein pulsed in her forehead, a low, throbbing ache. She wandered to the lavender plant and drew in its delicate essence. “I’ve heard tales of the fragrance’s therapeutic value.”
Another smile touched Catriona’s mouth, this one far more genuine than the last. “I am a firm believer in its healing properties. There’s nothing like this lovely aroma for easing a megrim. If ye’d like, I will arrange for some cuttings to be placed in yer room.”
“Thank you. I would appreciate that.” A sudden noise caught her attention—the unexpected rumble of wheels upon the pavement. A sleek black phaeton rambled along the path to the coach house.
Catriona sighed. “It appears another guest has arrived. My husband informed me he was expecting an old friend. I do hope he’s not an insufferable bore. With any luck, he’ll pose a distraction for Bonnie. Her interest in Edson is most unseemly.”
Biting back a smile, Evelyn swept her attention back to the house. “Was that Mr. Royce driving the carriage?”
“Most likely. I’d hoped that old maniac would return to whatever tavern he’d staggered out of, but for some incomprehensible reason, my husband has found him intriguing and invited him to stay.” A long sigh seemed wrung from her lungs. “The old bounder must be securing our guest’s conveyance. It appears he’s taken over Edson’s duties.”
“Your driver remains indisposed?”
“Last time I laid eyes on him, he was still quite pale. I can only pray the old man doesn’t insinuate himself into my husband’s good graces and secure a position here. He certainly would not suit the Houghton livery.”
“I suspect Mr. Royce’s motives are rooted in kindness. He was quite eager to come to Edson’s assistance.”
“Too eager, if ye ask me. I cannae speak to the man’s motives, but I dinnae imagine kindness has anything to do with it.” A scowl tugged at her thin mouth. “Well, there’s nothing to be done about it. Not now, at least.”
Picking up her pace, Catriona led Evelyn through another fragrant patch near the house’s garden entrance. Lingering over a tea rose in full bloom, she gave her head a slow, weary shake. Judging from the lack of creases on her thin, porcelain-white face, Catriona could not be more than a year or so older than Evelyn. Yet, her cynical view better suited one who’d lived a long, hardened life.
“At times, my flowers give me more delight than people ever could. Perhaps ye’ll come walk with me again,” she went on. Her eyes softened, and for the first time that day, her words sounded uncontrived. “Sally will soon be a sister to me. If ye are dear to her, so shall ye be to me.”
“Thank you.” Evelyn contemplated sharing the sentiment, but try as she might, the words failed to make it past her lips. She settled on something a bit less saccharine. “We both care a great deal for Sally. I’m sure we will do whatever it takes to ensure her happiness on her wedding day.”
“Of course.” Catriona pointed to a freshly dug plot, the rain-dampened earth furrowed into neat rows. “Do ye have an affinity for roses? My gardener has grown some of the most delightful varieties.”
“I adore them.” Evelyn eagerly welcomed the small shared interest. It would be for the best if they could strike up some semblance of a friendship.
“Shall we take a look?” Catriona led the way toward an area of the garden devoted to the perfumed flowers. “Rain has been abundant this season. I’m afraid the ground is a bit muddy. If ye stay on the walking path, ye willnae dirty yer shoes.”
Taking care to step on the stones rather than the dampened soil, Evelyn followed her hostess. A delicate fragrance drifted over the breeze.
Catriona fanned an arm toward the beds of roses, leaning down to draw in the aroma of a coral-pink bloom. “Such beauty. I could stay here all day. As you can see, I’ve installed benches throughout the garden. This is my sanctuary, well away from men who’ve imbibed too much whisky and the miserable smell of cheroots.”
“Perhaps we can sit and chat for a while,” Evelyn suggested.
“If only there were time.” Catriona frowned. “I suppose I should make my way back to the house. I hope ye dinnae mind. I must appear the gracious hostess. Of course, ye’ve been clever in avoiding such dull obligations.” Her tone was as frosty as her half smile. “In some ways, I do envy ye.”
So, she’d unsheathed her claws again. To her credit, she had managed to affect a cordial tone, if only for a few moments.
“I must agree.” Evelyn fashioned a pleasant expression. “Now that I’ve had an opportunity to live a life of my own, I realize Nigel did me a favor. I doubt I could willingly toss aside my freedom in exchange for being some man’s wife. Your responsibilities must be utterly dreadful.”
“I wouldnae say that. I am fortunate to have a generous man who sees to my happiness.” Catriona turned toward the house. “Come along, dear. I really must offer our guests a proper welcome. We’ve no time to dawdle.”
Evelyn kept pace with brisk strides that set her skirts to swishing. Hurrying along, she passed a plot of freshly-planted cabbage roses. Spotting a moss-covered stone in her path, she hesitated. Heaven knew she’d rather come face-to-face with some legendary beast of old than take a spill in front of Catriona. Lifting her skirt to her ankles, she maneuvered around a particularly muddy spot.
Catriona glanced over her shoulder. She shot Evelyn a disapproving frown. “Just so ye know, the groundskeeper may be about.”
“In that case, he will have to avert his eyes or risk a shocking view of my shoes. Though I can’t imagine he will be able to see through the leather to the skin beneath, tantalizing as that prospect might be.”
Catriona heaved a dramatic sigh. Evidently, she’d given up all hope of reforming Evelyn. Just as well, really. If lifting her skirts six inches from the ground was truly so scandalous, Evelyn was well past giving a fig about what her hostess thought of her, her shoes, or her oh-so-shocking ways.
“In any case, do be careful.” Exasperation colored her clipped tones. “This section of the path can be—”
The sole of Evelyn’s right shoe settled on a hard stone. With an indrawn breath and a muffled epithet, she skidded forward. Drat the luck!
Her leg kicked out wildly, as if she’d transformed into a footballer in skirts. Her balance betrayed her. She tilted to the side, toward the damp soil of the garden. Her left leg followed the right’s example, jutting out from under her.
Her skirts whooshed up. Tumbling sideways and backward, she plopped down onto the ground.
Oomph!
Dragging in a breath, she propped herself up on her hands. Moist soil squished between her fingers. An inch or two from her right hand, a fat worm popped up its head, seeming to take in the commotion before making a hasty retreat into the dirt.
Blast, blast, blast the infernal luck!
Jarred loose by the impact, the hair she’d carefully pinned into place tumbled from its confines. A single curl dangled over her forehead, nearly touching her nose. Can this day get any worse?
Not daring to touch her face with her dirt-caked hands, she blew a breath upward in an attempt to displace the annoying tendril of hair.
“My plants!” Catriona wailed. “Ye’ve destroyed them.”
Evelyn gave her head a brisk shake, as if that would clear it. A man’s voice she didn’t recognize cut through Catriona’s shrill cries. Was this the groundskeeper whose expertise Catriona had touted, joining his employer in her grief for plants that would never see the light of day due to Evelyn’s clumsiness?
“Oh, Jamie, I’m so glad ye’ve come,” Catriona rushed to the man. Jamie. Was this the laird of Houghton Manor, the mon she’d spoken of so highly?
Evelyn craned her neck to her left, spotting a man who stood an inch or so taller than herself. Something about his sturdy build and square-jawed features reminded her of a well-fed bull.
“Good God, Catriona. What happened?”
“She…she…” The Scotswoman stumbled over the words as she pointed agitatedly at Evelyn. “She fell…”
“Indeed, she did.” Another male voice, directly behind her. Familiar. Very familiar.
Oh, good heavens!
Evelyn closed her eyes for a heartbeat, perhaps two. She now had the answer to the question she’d pondered.
Yes, the day could indeed get worse.
Much worse. A shadow fell over her—a shadow in the shape of a man, broad-shouldered and lean of hip. “I will assist Lady Evelyn while ye see to yer wife,” he said.
Evelyn leaned back, just enough to lift her head and bring the man into focus.
She blinked. Once. Twice. A third time. MacMasters stared down at her, a half smile marking his handsome face.
Mortification seeped through her bones. How could this be? Of all people, he would be the one to come upon her in this utterly undignified state?
Abandoning any hope of preserving so much as a shred of her dignity, she swiped away another rebellious curl. Stripping her voice of emotion, she said, “I must say, this is quite a surprise.”
“Ye dinnae look happy t’see me. Not the greeting a good Scot would like from a lovely lass.”
Evelyn glanced down at her bent legs, at the soles of her shoes digging into the dirt and the way her skirts draped the gap between her knees. She might as well have written an epitaph for what little had been left of her good name.
If Catriona had been worried about the groundskeeper catching a covert glimpse of Evelyn’s leather-clad ankle, she could only imagine the view MacMasters had come upon. Her mother’s reminders to wear clean pantaloons popped into her thoughts. Thank heavens she always heeded her advice.
“I cannot imagine lovely is the most accurate of terms to describe my current appearance.”
His gaze swept over her. “A smudge of dirt could never detract from such a comely face.” Furrows creased his forehead. “Nor a vat of mud on yer dress. Might I be of assistance?”
“Thank you, but I do not believe that will be necessary.” She pressed the heels of her hands against the ground. Pushing herself up, she succeeded in sliding against the slippery surface, only to sink back into the dirt. Her elbows dug into the earth. “Upon further consideration…”
His large hand enfolded hers, strong yet gentle as he eased her to her feet. His warm touch spread a surprisingly comfortable heat through her. Her embarrassment did not disappear, but she no longer wished she could find a large rock to hide beneath. That, at least, was something to be thankful for.
MacMasters gave her a quick, assessing perusal. “Ye appear uninjured. Am I correct?”
“I fear my pride has suffered a staggering blow,” she said. “Otherwise, I am quite well.”
She stared down at her skirts. The dress she’d once loved and her petticoats were now muddy rags. Sodden fabric hung lank around her, clinging to her hips and the backs of her legs, sweeping over her shoes.
The Scot’s mouth quirked at the corners as he pointedly focused his attention on her upper body.
“Thank you.” At least she hadn’t fallen facedown in the muck. She could only imagine how atrocious a scene that would have been.
“Ye’re welcome, lass.”
Catriona’s husband held his wife’s hand, a weary set to his features. “Do ye intend to introduce me to yer guest?”
She turned to her husband. “I beg yer pardon. I’d forgotten ye have not made Lady Evelyn’s acquaintance. She is a childhood friend of our dear Sally. Lady Evelyn, I’d like to introduce my husband, James Ross, Laird Houghton.”
Houghton’s grin seemed genuine enough. “Welcome to our home. Any friend of Sally is a friend of ours.”
Evelyn returned his smile.
Houghton shot MacMasters a glance. “Did my ears deceive me, Lady Evelyn, or have ye already made Mr. MacMasters’ acquaintance?”
“We had that pleasure in town today,” Catriona answered before Evelyn could reply. “There was a rather harrowing incident in the bookseller’s shop. Mr. MacMasters offered his assistance.” She shot Evelyn an annoyed glance. “Unpleasant incidents do seem to be a bit of a habit with ye, dear.”
Summoning as much cheek as she could muster, Evelyn smoothed her skirts and forced a smile.
“Quite so. But, I must say, the storm clouds following me today do appear to have a silver lining—after all, it isn’t every day that a woman has a strapping Highlander come to her rescue.”