Scandal in Scotland (21 page)

In that instant, she seemed so alone that William’s heart ached for her. “Marcail, I—”

A voice sounded from the entryway, deep and cultured, with a faint petulant tone to it.

“I know that voice.” William went to the door and looked around the corner. “Bloody hell, what are you doing here?”

Robert was removing his greatcoat, turning up his nose at the pegs available to hang it on.

He didn’t seem the least surprised to see William, merely saying in a cool voice, “Surely there’s a better place to hang a coat than this. It will stretch the collar.”

“Bring your damned coat in here. You can spread it on the settee, if you wish.”

Robert sighed. “That will do, I suppose.” He followed William into the room, pausing when he caught sight of Marcail. He bowed elegantly. “Miss Beauchamp! Pleased to meet you.”

William flicked a hand toward his brother. “My brother Robert. I don’t recall if you’ve met.”

“Not until now.” She dipped a curtsy. “If you two will excuse me, I should pack and have our trunks brought down.”

William watched as she left the room.

Robert waited until she was gone before he flicked a glance at his brother. “She is even more lovely up close. I don’t find that the case with most actresses.”

William turned back to his brother, noticing the lace cuffs that spilled from Robert’s coat sleeves. Good lord, what a dandy. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been chasing you since you left London. I found something that I thought might interest you. It’s—” His gaze fell on the onyx box. “Ah. You have the artifact. I feared it might be in the possession of—” Robert’s expression closed. “It doesn’t matter. I’m just glad you have it back.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out something wrapped in red flannel. He unwrapped the object and placed it on the table near the onyx box. “Behold, a match for the first.”

William frowned. “There are two boxes?”

“So far.”

“Where did you get that?”

“From the private residence of a young lady named Moira McAllen. At least, that was the name she was using at her residence in Edinburgh. She has others.”

“Other residences?”

“Yes, and other names, as well. She is a lovely redhead who—”

“Bloody hell. She is the one we were chasing all along. She’s a tricky, conniving thief.”

“You have no idea,” Robert said softly.

William gestured toward the boxes. “One must be a fake.”

“No. They are both original.” Robert picked up one box and flicked it open, then did the same to the other. With a smooth twist, he undid two more hinges in each until they lay flat upon the table. Then, with a simple nudge, he pushed them together. A soft
click
sounded.

William leaned over. “They connect.”

“And make a map.”

“Bloody hell! It’s … Robert, is that a treasure map?”

“Yes. I think that’s why so many people have wished to obtain Michael’s artifact.” Robert traced a thin line. “This is a river of some sort; I’m sure of it by the way it meanders. And these—” He touched a group of upside down V’s. “These are mountains, and these—” He ran his thumb over a group of boxes in one corner. “I think these represent a city. All that’s missing is the third piece.”

“Good God.” William looked at the map. “There are three boxes, then.”

“Yes. See these markings here? Three lines with a dot between each? That means there are three pieces and that they connect.”

“Hmm. I wonder what our prisoner will say to that?”

Robert looked up sharply. “Prisoner? You mean … she’s still here?”

“Yes. Poston is watching her in the other room.”

“Damn it, William, you can’t leave him alone with her!” Robert scooped up the onyx boxes and slid them into his coat pocket.

“Poston won’t hurt her,” William said stiffly.

“
She
might hurt
him
.”

“He is armed.”

Robert relaxed somewhat. “That’s something, at least. Are you certain he’s well trained?”

“He was with Wellington on the peninsula.”

Robert sighed. “Good. I wouldn’t leave her with a novice for a second. She’s a master at escaping.”

“You said you found this box in the house of this Miss McAllen? How did you know it would be there?”

“I didn’t, at first. When I saw the drawing Mary had done, I knew I’d seen the box before. It took me a while to realize where. It was in a collection belonging to a researcher at Edinburgh. I ran into him while there two months ago and he showed me all of his recent finds. He didn’t really focus on the box, for as artifacts go it’s not really spectacular, but something about it stayed with me. Once I remembered where I’d seen it, I raced to purchase it, but it had already been stolen.”

“Let me guess. By a tall redhead.”

“Exactly. The researcher was quite besotted, but I knew instantly who it was and I went to her lodgings—”

“You knew where she lived?”

Robert’s gaze flickered. “I knew whom to ask. Suffice it to say that I found her residence and repossessed the box.”

“Repossessed, eh?” At his brother’s bland look, William sighed. “Fine. Don’t tell me. Robert, what the hell do you know about this woman?”

Robert’s expression shuttered. “Not much. But she’ll talk. I’ll make certain of that.”

“She seems to know you.”

“She does—unfortunately for me.”

“How well does she know you?”

Robert fidgeted with his cuff.

“Robert?”

He sighed. “I dislike admitting I was a fool. I don’t know why it matters, but—” He shrugged. “At one time, Moira and I were married.”

William blinked. “I beg your pardon, but—” He shook his head. “I could have sworn you said you were
married.”

Robert gave him a flat stare. “It was a trick. A dirty trick. Years ago, when I first came to London, I was an attaché to the Home Office, as you remember. I met her there and—Well, she is beautiful. You can’t deny that.”

“No, I can’t.”

Robert shrugged. “One thing led to another, and I thought myself madly in love. So one night, we were at a masquerade ball and there was a man dressed as a clergyman—I vow that I did not know the man was real. That the license he had in his pocket was the actual thing. That—” Robert’s look was black. “I was enamored of her, though I knew her to be a woman of low morals. The silly ceremony seemed to assure that our relationship would progress further.”

“You were thinking with your cock.”

“True. The little head is always so impulsive, isn’t it?”

William sighed. “Yes, it is. But what about the banns?”

“Exactly,” Robert said darkly. “Without posting banns, then the ceremony, even if performed by a clergyman and with my signature on the license, would be false. But someone had indeed posted the banns; I just didn’t know it.”

William shook his head. “You said you were married to her at one time. So you found a way out of it and aren’t married now?”

Robert hesitated. “Technically, we are married, but I don’t recognize it.”

“I assume a court of law would, though.”

“Perhaps. But if they knew of her black heart—” Robert’s brow lowered. “She tricked me to discredit me with the Home Office. They almost let me go upon hearing that I’d wed a counteragent.”

“
Counter
agent?”

“Yes, the lovely Miss McAllen’s family has been very friendly with some of England’s greatest enemies. She was once an agent for Bonaparte. They say Bonny himself was madly in love with her, but she would have none of him, so he sent her here, to perform his duties on English soil.”

“Why hasn’t she been arrested?”

“Who says she hasn’t been? And then escaped. Which is why I’m surprised she’s still here.”

William shook his head. “What a coil.”

“There is more to it. She blames me for her arrest, and rightly so. I found evidence of her position—there was no escaping the truth. After she trapped me into marriage, the only way I could win back the trust of the Home Office was to offer her up on a platter.” Robert’s expression hardened. “Which I did with great delight.”

“You know what Father says about vengeance.”

“That it’s a bitter dish that bites the server as well as the taster.”

“Exactly.” William eyed his brother. “So what will you do now?”

“I don’t know, but I think the lovely Moira knows the location of the third box.”

“And Michael?”

“Hopefully he will be free by the time I find the last box. I have an idea about that. Take these boxes to our soon-to-be brother-in-law.”

“The Earl of Erroll? What’s he have to do with anything?”

“His cousin is reputed to be something of an expert in producing copies of antiquities.”

“But that man stole from Erroll.”

“Yes, but our tenderhearted sister has arranged for her soon-to-be husband to reconcile with his cousin, so we should have full access to his useful services.”

“Very well. I’ll do that as soon as I reach London. Once I have the copy, I’ll set sail and win Michael’s release.”

“Excellent. Michael will be very interested in this map. In fact, once he knows of it, I don’t believe he’d want us to trade the boxes for his release.”

“I just don’t wish him hurt.”

“Hurt? His biggest complaint is that he is bored and his assistant has poured out all of his bourbon.” Robert shrugged. “Besides, he’s—”

A gunshot sounded, followed by the tinkling of broken glass.

Robert was out the door in a trice, William hard on his heels as they yanked open the parlor door.

Poston was seated on the floor holding his arm, blood seeping between his fingers. One of the large front windows was shattered and there was no sign of Miss McAllen.

“What happened?” William demanded as Robert ran to the window and looked out.

“Damn it,” Robert swore. “There she goes.” They could hear hoofbeats on the cobblestones. “I must go. Take these.”

He reached into his pocket, then thrust the two onyx boxes at William. “Guard them carefully. I will contact you.”

“I’ll guard them with my life, but—”

Marcail hurried into the room, her eyes wide. “What happened?”

“Our captive escaped,” William said grimly.

“How?”

Robert scowled. “She has the most damnable way of making whoever guards her fall in love with her.”

Marcail glanced at Poston, who turned a furious red. “She was jus’ tellin’ me about her family in Wiltshire. Did ye know she came from the same village as I did? In all me years, I’ve met only one other person from—” The groom blinked as Robert sighed and looked at the ceiling. “She’s not from Wiltshire?”

“No, you fool. I doubt she’s even been there.” Robert swept a bow. “Good-bye. I must fetch her before she wreacks more havoc.”

“Wait!” Marcail pulled a vial out of her pocket. “Here, it’s a potion of some sort. I’ve been told that it will keep a person incapacitated for some time. It may also make them think that they’re—” She blushed. “Use it sparingly, for I suspect it’s very strong. It may help you bring her to London, since she’s so difficult to hold prisoner.”

Robert took the vial. “Thank you. That could be a great help. William, I will write.”

And with that, he was gone. A moment later, the sound of horse’s hooves dashing through the courtyard once again filled the crisp spring air.

William helped the groom into a chair. “You should never have let your guard down. I warned you when I left you here.”

“I know,” the groom said miserably. “She was just so bewitching, Cap’n. Such a loverly woman.”

There was a flurry of noise in the entryway and then Emma and Jane stuck their heads in the door, followed shortly by an angry Mrs. MacClannahan who, upon seeing one of her good windows broken to bits, promptly threw herself upon the floor and had a fit.

It took all of Marcail’s skill to smooth things over.

An hour later, after enough money had been placed in Mr. MacClannahan’s hand to make him all smiles, William gathered up Marcail, said goodbye to the kind old ladies who were still patting Mrs. MacClannahan’s hand, installed the bandaged Poston on the coach, and took his entire retinue back on the road to the relative sanity of London.

A letter from Mary Hurst to her brother Michael, on a cold spring evening
.

Between William’s moping about as if his heart is broken and Robert’s secretive behavior, I worry about the Hurst men. They seem to fall in love with the most inappropriate women, and never with the joy one would wish. It would quite put me off the thought of falling in love if I weren’t firmly of the opinion that they were both doing it very badly. I trust that you will do better when—and if—you fall in love.

         
C
HAPTER 18

W
illiam barely waited for the coach door to close before he reached for Marcail. With a huge sigh, he pulled her onto his lap, wrapped his arms about her, and rested his forehead against hers.

Marcail snuggled close. “It’s been a difficult morning.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling against her shoulder. “You, my love, have the gift of understatement.”

She flattened her hand on his chest. She could feel every breath he drew. Deep and strong, his chest’s movement was comforting and steady.

As a young girl, she’d been so driven to succeed in her career and to protect her family, she hadn’t appreciated William’s steadfastness, his commitment to his family, his trustworthiness.

She wished she could take back the past and start anew, but who didn’t wish that for a lost love? The real question was, would it really change anything?

He rubbed his bruised cheek.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

“A little.”

She softly kissed the spot.

He glinted her a smile. “You are very good at taking care of people—your family and even Colchester.”

“I did what I had to. I’m certain my sisters would have done the same for me had they been older.”

“Your parents are fools.”

“They are proud. I’ve been told it’s a family trait.”

“There’s pride, and then there’s prideful. I would never call you prideful.”

“We were both too proud for our own good.” She toyed with his collar, and he could see she was mulling something over. Finally, she said, “My father says I’m not respectable enough for my sisters’ company and he has demanded that I not see them.” She grinned unrepentantly. “I do anyway, of course. My father lost the right to tell me what to do when he stopped making responsible decisions for our family.”

She spoke as if it hadn’t caused her pain, but William knew better. He couldn’t imagine life without his family. His sisters wrote regularly, visited when they could, and spared no energy in trying to organize his life. His brothers shared their dreams and hopes, and expected the same of him. Despite the different directions life had taken them in, they all maintained contact.

Marcail had been left alone.

“Let me get this straight,” he said. “You’ve saved the family house, their lands, their fortune, and your father says you’re ‘not fit’ to visit?”

“I have my grandmother, of course.”

One person
. The thought nearly broke his heart. She’d sent him away years ago and he’d gone, smoldering and nursing his own wounds without giving any thought to hers.

She smoothed his collar back into place. “Our parents serve one of two purposes in our lives: either they are examples for us to strive toward, or warnings of what we should strive against.”

“Well said.”

“I’ve done a lot of thinking about it.” She brushed her hair from her forehead, her movements graceful and calm. It was odd. As much as she inflamed him—and he was as randy as a youngster with his first barmaid even now—she also made him feel more … peaceful. As if all was right with the world when she was close by.

The thought was ridiculous, but it made him realize her special qualities—something her own parents didn’t value as they should, damn them both. “It’s amazing you’re not bitter about your parents.”

“I was angry when I realized Father wasn’t going to relent, but I’ve come to realize that it’s for the best. I want my sisters to take their place in society, and that means that they must renounce me publicly. In a way, it was part of the plan.”

“I can’t believe your mother allowed your father to become such a despot.”

“She is cowed by him. I don’t know why, for he’s not a violent man.” A flicker of darkness crossed her eyes. “I believe she fears he’ll leave her, which doesn’t sound like a horrible fate to me, but perhaps it seems a horrible fate to her. Sometimes relationships can fall into habits and hers is to stay with him no matter what.”

“I suppose change can be difficult for some people.” He rested his chin on her forehead. “What about you, Marcail? Do you fear change?”

She lifted her head to look up at him. “What sort of change?”

William found that he couldn’t speak. Until that moment, he hadn’t really thought of what he was going to say, but now, looking into her violet eyes, the words lined up on his tongue, ready to be said for the first time ever. He knew what he wanted. “I’m talking about significant change. About opening your life and allowing someone—me—to enter.”

Her eyes widened. “I—I’m not sure what you mean—”

He lifted her hand and kissed it. “Marcail Beauchamp, darling of Drury Lane, unappreciated daughter, passionate lover, and the woman who holds my heart in her hand—will you do me the honor of giving me your hand in marriage?”

“You’re … you’re serious?”

“Totally.”

“But … I’m an actress.”

“And I’m a sea captain. Marcail, we’re no longer the children we once were. Neither of us answers to anyone else. It’s time we take life by the horns and make it ours.”

“I don’t want to leave the stage.”

“Then don’t. I promise not to beat up any of your admirers, even the king, should he be so foolish. But I reserve the right to stand outside your dressing room and look fierce. Furthermore I won’t allow my actions to harm you or your career. I’m not that selfish anymore.”

Marcail’s lips quivered, and tears filled her eyes. She was filled with a happiness so great that it defied description. “You’ll still sail?”

“Yes, but I’ll only accept short journeys. I may even buy two or three ships and invest in some ventures.”

“I don’t wish you to stop doing anything you’ll miss—”

“I won’t.”

“And I don’t wish you to feel as if you have to live in London all of the time. I know you enjoy visiting your family at Wythburn and we’ll want to go there frequently, which is fine with me.”

“If I am overcome with the desire to visit my family, I will do so.”

She bit her lip. “Neither one of us owns a house, either. That could be an expense and—”

“For the love of heaven, Marcail, will you stop trying to find reasons to say no?” He captured her face between his warm hands. “Say yes, my love. Say yes to sharing your life, your cares. Say yes to accepting that I love you, and will do everything I can to make our lives better.” He dropped his forehead to hers, his voice deepening with an almost desperate plea. “Please, Marcail—say yes to
me
.”

Then she knew in her heart that there was only one answer. Things wouldn’t always be easy with her strong-willed, bossy sea captain, but she knew from their adventure that he wasn’t one to quit. When the storms came they’d both be ready, and with the lessons they’d learned along the way, they’d weather the storms together. Hand in hand.

And that was how it should be.

She twined her arms about his neck. “Yes.”

And they sealed their promise with a kiss.