In Your Wildest Scottish Dreams (24 page)

“If it’s about a loan, don’t bother.”

“Have you found a solution, then? Is that why you were in London?”

“None of your concern, Lennox.”

Duncan was consistent, at least.

“Let’s negotiate a short-term loan, say for a year. Enough to do maintenance on the looms and keep your employees.”

Duncan’s frown joined flat eyes and thinned lips.

“Because of our friendship I won’t kick you down the stairs.”

“I’d like to see you bloody try,” Lennox said, standing in front of his friend’s desk. “How long are you going to be a mule about this?”

“Until my bones turn to ash.”

He didn’t expect any less. Very well, he’d tried. He’d
said what he’d come to say concerning a loan. Now there was a more important reason for being here.

“You’re going to hear some stories about your sister and me,” he said.

Duncan stared at him. The seconds ticked by and still his friend didn’t speak. He’d rarely been the focal point of Duncan’s irritation, and found it an uncomfortable place to be.

“You’ve already heard.”

Duncan nodded once. “Your houseguest is a voluble sort.”

“She isn’t, thank the good Lord and your mother, staying at Hillshead any longer. She’s installed at the Lafayette Hotel.”

One of Duncan’s eyebrows winged upward. “Is there any truth to the stories about you and Glynis knowing each other in a biblical fashion in the gardens of Hillshead?”

“Bloody hell, is that what she’s saying now?”

Duncan nodded.

A week had passed. Only a week, and he’d begun hearing things himself. He’d gotten enough leers in the past seven days to last him for the rest of his life.

Men had winked at him, given him a nod, and smiled.
Good work, lad,
they seemed to be saying, and he was left without recourse. He wanted to punch someone. He’d never struck a woman and he wasn’t about to start. But the sooner he could get Lucy Whittaker out of Glasgow, the better.

If he’d heard the gossip, he was certain Glynis had as well. He’d be damned if Lucy Whittaker was going to hurt Glynis.

“Is it true?” Duncan asked.

“That I know Glynis in a biblical manner?”

Duncan sat back, piercing him with a look. “She’s my sister, Lennox, I’m not going to use the vernacular.”

“No,” he said. “It’s not true.”

“Then what’s the gossip about?”

He didn’t have the slightest idea how to explain what had happened in the past weeks. Glynis had returned to Glasgow, but her arrival had been accompanied by confusion and deception. Add in a murder, Matthew Baumann, Lucy Whittaker, and the entire situation was out of control.

A little plain speaking wouldn’t be amiss at the moment.

“I’m going to marry her,” Lennox said. “I just wanted to let you know.”

First, he had to convince her, but she’d given him the idea how to do that herself. For once, Duncan’s stubbornness would prove an asset.

“No coming to the head of the family and asking for my approval? You’re just announcing the fact?”

Lennox stifled his smile and nodded. “Not well done of me, was it? Let me rephrase. I’d like to marry your sister, Duncan. Do I have your approval?”

For a moment Duncan didn’t answer. His look was somber, his study intent.

“Why?”

“Why?” he asked. “What do you mean, why?”

“Do you love her?”

He didn’t know how to answer that. He wasn’t sure he wanted to divulge his feelings right at the moment. If he told anyone, it would be Glynis.

“She’s always been in love with you, you know.”

“What?” He stared at Duncan.

“At least she was seven years ago. Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”

He felt like the floor was opening up beneath his feet. Sitting heavily, he stared at Duncan.

“No, I didn’t know.”

Duncan shook his head. “For an intelligent man you’re remarkably stupid,” he said pleasantly.

“She thought I was going to marry Lidia Bobrova,” he said, remembering Glynis’s question in the Necropolis. “Did you know that?”

“Not until a few days ago,” Duncan said.

He couldn’t think. Glynis loved him? Had her feelings changed in the last seven years?

“You’re my friend,” Duncan said, standing. “I consider you a brother.” He rounded the desk just as Lennox stood. Duncan clasped him on the shoulder and for an unguarded moment they studied each other.

“But if you hurt her, Lennox, I’ll come after you myself.”

D
UNCAN GLANCED
over at his mother seated in her favorite place on the parlor settee. A half-empty cup of tea sat on the table at her side. She’d been so intent on her task that her tea had grown cold.

If the patterns of the last few years held true, Lily would enter the parlor in a few minutes with fresh, hot tea, making a clucking noise like a mother chicken as she removed the other cup.

Glynis had retired to her room to read, mumbling about the book as she did so. Something about how “the silly woman is too foolish to deserve the prince.”

He hadn’t asked her for an explanation. Nor had he told her about Lennox’s appearance at the mill earlier today. Let Lennox speak in his own time.

His mother bit at the thread, folded the garment she had finished mending and looked at him.

“Is there nothing that can be done? Some accommodation? Could we not petition someone?”

Duncan bit back his smile. “No, I’m afraid not. Diplomacy
between us and America is touchy at best right now.”

She shook her head. “I don’t see why everyone has to suffer. They can’t sell their cotton and we can’t buy it. What a horrendous situation.”

More horrendous than she knew. If the American Civil War didn’t end in the next three months, he would be forced to implement his own plan to save the mill. Although risky, it was the only solution he had.

“A great deal can be solved by talking with one another, Duncan. Of course, there are times when there is entirely too much talk.”

He glanced at his mother, frowning when she sighed. Reaching for another garment, she examined it intently. He looked away when he realized it was a shift, either belonging to her or Glynis.

“I’m afraid the situation must be addressed soon before it becomes worse,” she said, sighing again.

“You’re speaking of the gossip,” he said.

“You’ve heard, too?” She placed her hands on the garment and looked at him.

He nodded. The mill was a convention of gossip and had always been. His father had been more adept at silencing the rumors than he was.

“That Whittaker woman is saying the most outlandish things, Duncan. How Glynis seduced Lennox and how he nearly ravished her in the gardens of Hillshead.”

He’d already heard a version of the tale, but not to this degree.

“Is that true?”

“I’m afraid they were in the garden, Duncan, and there was some kissing.” She glanced over at him. “I’m sure there was nothing else, it being Lennox and Glynis. But, still, the woman seems determined to ruin your sister’s name.”

“I wouldn’t put much credence in it,” he said. “Glynis has always been talked about, even when she was a child.”

She put her mending down and stared at him. “Duncan MacIain, have you no concern about your sister’s reputation?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Mother. I believe it’s all being sorted out.”

“What, exactly, does that mean?”

He wasn’t going to betray a confidence, but this was his mother. He smiled.

“Let’s just say Lennox has a plan.”

She blinked at him. “Does he?”

He nodded.

She surprised him in the next moment by smiling brightly.

“C
harlotte is here,” Eleanor said, entering Glynis’s bedroom.

She put her brush back on the bureau and faced her mother.

“I wasn’t expecting her,” she said, dread seeping into her bones. “Did you invite her?”

Eleanor shook her head. “I suspect she’s heard the rumors and she’s come to investigate on her own.”

For the last week they’d been visited by more than a dozen of Eleanor’s friends and acquaintances. Since her mother insisted she be in attendance every time, Glynis had to endure women staring at her stomach. Would Charlotte do the same, wondering when the baby was due?

She stared at her mother. “What on earth do I tell her?”

Eleanor sighed and came to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Her husband is very well known in Glasgow. Charlotte considers herself an important personage.”

A curiosity Glynis had observed in Washington. A woman married to a powerful man had a portion of influence herself. An acquaintance had called it the Power of the Pillow.

“You daren’t offend the woman for fear she’ll say something to her husband, of course. Slip him a small
complaint as they’re going to sleep or wake him with tea and a word in his ear.”

Charlotte could well be a petty tyrant herself.

“When is the inquest going to be held?” she asked.

“From what I’ve heard, in two weeks.”

“Afterward, will Lucy be allowed to leave Glasgow?”

Eleanor nodded. “I might go to the train station and see her off myself.”

She stifled a smile and glanced at her reflection in the mirror. For the last week she’d been too pale. Her eyes looked haunted and there were dark circles beneath them. Between worry about the mill, Lennox, Baumann, and Lucy’s gossip, she hadn’t slept well.

“Well, there’s nothing more to do, is there? I have to see Charlotte. We’ll talk about our childhood, not rumors. I’ll tell her some stories of Washington.” She turned and looked at her mother. “Or I could always ask about her children. She’s very proud of them.”

How had her life become so complicated? Washington had been a hotbed of rumors and she’d been very careful never to put herself in a situation that might be misconstrued. Yet she’d forgotten the lesson within weeks of returning to Glasgow.

She straightened her bodice, fluffed her skirts, and followed her mother downstairs, ready to do further battle for her reputation.

Her mother veered off from the parlor, mumbling something about refreshments, leaving her alone to face Charlotte.

Entering the parlor with a hard-won smile, she greeted Charlotte.

“How nice to see you again,” she said, making no comment about the visit being unexpected—or unwelcome.

Charlotte stood at her entrance. She wasn’t attired in green today but a dark blue silk.

Glynis’s dress was a dark blue as well, only not silk and not as fulsomely decorated with pin tucks and darts. Charlotte’s jewelry looked to be sapphires, not entirely proper for day wear. The rings she flashed had a variety of stones in them. She’d most definitely come up in the world with Archibald’s success and was evidently intent on boasting of it in the way she dressed.

“Is it true?” Charlotte said, getting to the heart of the matter. “Have you and Lennox become lovers? Archie is distraught that you would have brought such scandal to our home. If we’d known, of course I wouldn’t have invited the both of you. How could you do such a thing to me, Glynis? How could you have ruined the memory of a sweet friendship?”

Which part did she address first?

She sat heavily, staring at her entwined fingers, then made herself look up at Charlotte.

How odd that Glasgow gossip had impacted her life to such an extent. First, rumors of Lennox’s wedding had resulted in her decision to marry another man. Now the wagging tongues of her fellow Glaswegians were determined to shame her for an impromptu gesture.

Still, of all her regrets, kissing Lennox was not one of them.

“Lennox and I are not lovers. I’m sorry your husband is upset, but I haven’t brought scandal to you. Or to myself, either. I would never have harmed you, Charlotte.”

She did wish the woman would at least loosen her bonnet ribbons. They looked too tight, almost strangling her.

“Then why is that Englishwoman saying all sorts of things about you and Lennox?” Charlotte asked, finally sitting.

She shook her head. This was delicate territory.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Perhaps grief has made her senseless.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes.

“I don’t know,” she repeated. “You know the woman as well as I do.”

“I’ve only been around her one time, at dinner.”

“I don’t know,” she said for a third time. “Why does anyone gossip or tell tales? Because her own life is disappointing? Because she’s jealous of something?”

“She said you and Lennox were naked in the garden.”

Her smile came easier now. “No, Lennox and I were never naked in the garden,” she said. “I don’t know why she would even say such a thing.”