Borrowed Dreams (Scottish Dream Trilogy) (35 page)

“I am so much obliged to you,
m’lady. I know she could use a little help. But don’t you be worrying about me
now. I’ve laid out all your clothes, and Bess will do well for you. She is
young and eager to please and is looking for a chance to show that she’s able.”

As Violet continued to talk about
maidservants and dresses, Millicent's gaze kept focusing on the young woman’s
pale face. She couldn’t count the number of times Violet had been sick in the
past fortnight. She also had a hard time forgetting the suspicious looking
bruise that she’d seen on the young girl’s mouth lately. Something was not
right. But as with everything else, there was not much time to probe and prod.
She only hoped that Violet would be wise enough to take Millicent’s advice and
actually go to her family in St. Albans.

“Violet,” Millicent interrupted
softly. “You do understand that if you ever are in any kind of trouble, you can
come to me.” 

The young woman’s eyes avoided
meeting Millicent’s.
Her gaze was fixed on a ribbon she was nervously
twisting around one finger.
 

“Things happen in life,” she
continued, hoping to make the young woman feel more at ease. “We all make
mistakes, Vi. We sometimes find ourselves in situations that we have no control
over. What gets us though these things is our connection with other people.
Loneliness is a curse; I know that very well. Please remember that I am here to
help if you need me.”

“I know, m’lady,” Violet whispered,
curtsying quickly and escaping the room.

*****

Despite everyone’s assurance that
life at Melbury Hall would continue on smoothly, Lyon still saw the worry
etched on Millicent’s face when she climbed inside the carriage and sat across
from him.

“Everything will be just fine. Just
fine,” she muttered under her breath as she settled herself. She turned to him.
“It was very kind of the dowager and Sir Richard to stay for another fortnight
or so.”

“I hope you still feel that way
when we get back. I did notice a certain look in the dowager’s face that told
me she has become quite content here. We might not be able to move her anywhere
in the near future.”

Millicent smiled. “She is welcome
to stay forever, if it pleases her. I am indebted to her in more ways than she
could ever imagine.” She reached out and took Lyon’s right hand affectionately
in hers before turning to look out the window again.  

A long line of people had gathered
in the courtyard to see them off and wish them a safe journey. Millicent waved
through the small window of the carriage.

“I don’t see Moses,” she whispered
worriedly over her shoulder at Lyon. “Do you see him?”

Lyon leaned forward and pointed.
“There he is, behind Jonah and Gibbs.”

Millicent looked again and let out
a sigh of relief. “Gibbs and Jonah are developing a solid respect for each
other. Since Moses is devoted to Jonah, that makes him like Gibbs. I don’t know
if our new steward knows that he has taken a protector for life.”  

“That is the kind of loyalty that Highland cur understands best.”

With a shout from one of the grooms
and a final wave from the waiting throng, the riders and carriages started out.
Millicent continued to stare out the window until the bend in the road blocked
her view of her people.

Lyon’s attention, though, kept
moving from his wife’s anxious face to where her hand was clutching his right
hand desperately on one knee.

“I used to leave Melbury Hall for
months at the time with no guilt whatsoever when Wentworth was alive, but now,
going away for a fortnight, I feel like a deserter.” 

He tentatively entwined his fingers
with hers. She didn’t notice the movement.

“Last night,” he said, “I was
listening to Stanmore and Rebecca talk about how guilty they feel whenever they
leave James at Eton. Even though he has made a number of friends and has
established himself very well as a student there, their worry does not go away
entirely. It has to do with family, I suppose.”

“You said that to me before.” She
smiled. “That Melbury Hall is like a family to me. You don’t mind that, do you?”

“Hardly. I consider myself damned
lucky to be a part of it.” He squeezed her hand.

Suddenly Millicent’s gaze dropped
to their entwined hands. “Do that again.”

“’Tis like making love, my bonny
lass. A man needs some time to recover first.”

Without letting go of his hand, she
moved across and nestled against him. “First of all, that is a lie if I ever
heard one. You
never
need time to recover during our lovemaking, and you
certainly should not need any now. Squeeze my hand again, Lyon. Please.”    

Being able to use his hand was not
new for him. But now, seeing her excitement, he was relieved to be able to
share this progress with her. Lyon gently squeezed her fingers. 

Her joyous laughter filled the
carriage. Millicent looked up at him in amazement. “Show me more.”

“This is the extent of it, for
now.”

“No, it is not,” she challenged
him. “I have become too familiar with you and your scheming. I know there must
be more. I can hear the rumbling in your brain from here.”

He leaned toward her and growled.
“What you hear, m’lady, is the rumblings of a starved man, and the sound is not
coming from my head.”

“We ate not an hour before we
departed.”

“Sexually starved.” He kissed her
delicious lips. “Remember all those promises you have been giving me about rocking
carriages and straining bodies?”

“But it is daylight,” she replied,
trying to look shocked.

“That is what curtains are for.” He
slowly slid his hand onto her knee. “Weren’t you asking me to show you more?” 

“You are the devil, Lord Aytoun.”
She leaned forward hurriedly and pulled the curtains closed. “A tempting,
scandalous devil who knows all my weaknesses.” 

That afternoon Gibbs found the Dowager
Countess Aytoun in the drawing room with a book on her lap, nodding comfortably
in the chair by the window.  The blue eyes focused as soon as he entered, led
in by one of her serving maids. 

“Do not tell me, Gibbs, that you
are here to moan that you already miss your master?”

“Nay, m’lady.”

“That’s good. Well, I hope you will
promise not to make such a complaint while he is gone.”

“That depends on how well ye treat
me, m’lady,” the Highlander said with a half smile.

“From what I’ve been observing
around Melbury Hall, there is a certain young woman whose manner influences
your moods.” The shrewd eyes narrowed. “So tell me, is Mrs. Page as sweet on
you as you are on her?”

“Well, mum, I believe she tolerates
me well enough.”

The dowager sat back and smiled. “I
knew there was a reason why I liked the housekeeper. She is obviously
exercising good judgment.”  

“Och, and here I was hoping ye
might put a good word in for me with her.”

“Good word…that is something we
shall certainly need to negotiate.” She closed the book that lay on her lap and
put it aside. “But I doubt you are here so soon after your master’s departure
for that.”

“Nay, m’lady.” He cleared his
throat, his back stiffening again. “A messenger has just come down from London, looking for Lady Aytoun.”

“Does he bring news from her
family?”

“Nay, mum.”

“Well, who is he? Out with it,
Gibbs.”

“He’s sent by a Mr. Platt, who
happens to serve Mr. Jasper Hyde in legal matters.”

“That ghastly man again!” Impatiently, the dowager took the spectacles off her face, her mood obviously souring. “The last
thing Millicent needs right now is to worry about someone like him. You didn’t
tell him that Lady Aytoun has gone to Scotland, did you?”

“Nay, m’lady.”

“Good man.” The dowager waved off
her servants, and the two women hurriedly left the room. “Did you ask what he
wants?”

Gibbs walked over and handed a
sealed envelope to the dowager.

“It simply says ‘Lady Aytoun.’ That
could be me, don’t you think, Gibbs?”

“Without doubt, m’lady.”
“And even if it were intended for Millicent, in this situation it would be
perfectly acceptable to read it.”

“Ye know best, mum.”

“It could be a matter of the
gravest urgency.”

“I’m thinking it must be, m’lady.”

“And didn’t my daughter-in-law
leave Melbury Hall in my hands?”

“Even so, mum.” 

She quickly broke the seal and
scanned the contents. 

“That low, disgusting, horrifying
man.” She looked up. “He does not know when to give up.”

“What does he want?”

“Ohenewaa,” the dowager whispered,
reading the contents of the letter a second time.

Gibbs felt his temper beginning to
burn. “Mrs. Page told me, m’lady, that this same messenger came down from London some time ago with a proposal to take Ohenewaa back to Mr. Hyde. Her ladyship put
him out on his arse…begging your pardon.”

“Well, he has added a great deal
more weight to his request this time.”

“Wouldn’t matter at all to Lady
Aytoun,” Gibbs stated flatly. “Ohenewaa would go nowhere, to be sure.”

“I agree, Gibbs.” She placed the
correspondence between the pages of her book. “But we shall need to act quickly
to take the wind out of the man’s sails. You said he does not know Millicent is
not here.”

“Aye, m’lady.”

“Tell the messenger Lady Aytoun
will meet with this lawyer. Not to accept the proposal, necessarily, but to
talk. But the meeting must take place here at Melbury Hall.”

“Very good, mum.”

“But I want you to put it off as
long as you can. Use whatever excuse, but tell him that the meeting cannot take
place any earlier than a fortnight off—and even later if you can manage it.”

“How about when pigs sprout wings,
m’lady?”

“That would be just fine, Gibbs.”

“What do ye plan to do?”

“I need to talk to Ohenewaa first.
Then I must send Sir Richard to London to look into the accusations Platt
alludes to in the letter.” The dowager’s eyes shone with the challenge of what
lay ahead of her. “When we are done with Mr. Platt and Mr. Hyde, Gibbs, I think
neither one shall dare to bother our Millicent ever again.”          

Gibbs did not know the specifics,
but he had no doubt that the dowager would succeed.

“Now fetch Ohenewaa and Sir Richard
for me, and then go and get rid of that insect of a messenger.”

“As you wish, m’lady.”

“And Gibbs,” she called as he
reached the door. “I will be honored to put a good word in for you with your
Mrs. Page.”

****

The rain had beaten hard against
the walls and the small diamond-shaped panes of glass all night. And this morning, as they were crossing the river Wear out of Durham at dawn, the biting wind
had buffeted the carriages all along the arched stone bridge. Millicent pulled
her cloak tightly about her and tried to smile at Lyon, who was watching her
intently. He’d told her that they should arrive at Baronsford sometime in the
middle of the afternoon.

Unlike their first three days of
traveling, Lyon’s good nature had deserted him once they climbed into the
carriage today. And as they rolled northward in silence, the rain and the wind
continued to increase with the same maddening proportions as Millicent’s
apprehensiveness.

They had followed the east road up
through England, stopping at Peterborough, Doncaster, and Durham. For this
final leg of their journey, though, they had left the better traveled road
leading to Berwick, turning inland at Newcastle-upon-Tyne. Passing villages
along the way, the carriages had meandered along valley roads and eventually
made the steady climb over the Cheviot Hills. Once into Scotland, the rugged terrain, the ancient abbey towns, and the ruins of countless tower
houses and castles had fascinated her.

As the carriage bumped and rolled
over a rough section of road, Millicent tore her gaze from the wild countryside
and looked at the furrows in the brow of her husband. At some point during the
day, she had realized that her worries of going to Baronsford were not solely
the result of her own lack of confidence, but also a reaction to Lyon’s suffering.

And he was suffering; that she
could tell.  

“Will you tell me about Baronsford?”

He took a long moment to pull
himself free of his deep thoughts. “What would you like to know?”

“Did you and your brothers grow up
there?”

He looked away from her. Since that
first day, when she had met the dowager with Sir Oliver, she’d had little
curiosity about the two other Pennington brothers. But now, going back to Baronsford, she couldn’t help but think that part of what was tearing at Lyon had to do with the
conflict with his family. 

“Yes, all of us grew up there.”

“Was it a home?”

He frowned at her. “What do you
mean?”

“Gibbs told me his reaction to the
place the first time he saw it,” she explained. “He described Baronsford as a fairy tale castle with miles of footpaths weaving in and out along cliffs
overlooking the river Tweed. He said there is a great deer park, a lake,
beautiful walled gardens and greenswards, ice houses and more. But this was only the description of the outside.”

“The inside is attractive as well,
I suppose. Robert Adam did the renovation.”

“Yes, Gibbs told me. But is it a home where a family could live?”

Lyon paused before answering. “At
one time, Baronsford
was
a home.”

She waited for him to say more, but
he chose silence. Millicent glanced out the window again, realizing that she
could not press him if he did not want to talk. Not now. Not when he was so
close to facing the past that had crippled him.

She had faith in him. Despite the
words that were still left unsaid between them, Millicent believed that he
cared for her. And she was here to offer her support, not to demand attention.