The Heart Queen (34 page)

She quickly rode out of the courtyard before anyone stopped her and down the road to town, hoping that she could find the overgrown path that led to the cottage. She had not yet asked Torquil or anyone about it for fear of showing her interest. She wanted to get there before anyone else did.

Janet found the path after having passed it once. She hoped she would not run into Kevin along the way and was grateful when she finally saw the opening. She guided her horse between two ancient trees, then continued until she found the cottage. It looked lonely, almost as if it were waiting for someone. An overgrown garden sat adjacent to the house. She dismounted, tied her horse to a tree branch and went over to the garden.

She stooped down and readily identified some of the plants. Herbs.

Then she went to the cottage door. It opened easily and she stepped inside, leaving the door open. A layer of dust covered the floor. She raised it with every step she took. How long had it been empty? And who had lived here?

A woman. Little touches told her that. Curtains at the window. Pots of flowers long dead. A rug thrown across the dirt floor.

She wondered why scavengers had not looted it. Was the cottage under Braemoor’s protection? If so, why?

She moved around the cottage, looking for more evidence of the man who had ridden out with Braemoor. Who was he? But there were no clues. Then she saw a woman’s dress bundled up in a corner. She held it up. The simple garment was made of a good soft wool and obviously meant for a tall and slender woman. Other than that, she saw nothing to mark the owner. She left abruptly, intent on finding out more about the woman from the servants at Braemoor.

She rode back slowly, enjoying the fresh air even while questions pounded at her. She sought answers as to why Braemoor had left in the middle of the night and met someone secretly in an abandoned cottage. She had once thought him so honest and direct. It had been one of the things she had liked best about him.

Kevin met her halfway back. His eyes were anxious, and she sought to allay that anxiety.

“My lady,” he said. “You ...”

“Do not worry, Kevin,” she interrupted. “I am quite safe. I just wanted to go riding and no one was around.”

“The marquis ...”

“I know the marquis worries,” she said. “But I needed some fresh air, and this mare needed exercise.” She paused, then changed the subject. “Are you planning to wed Lucy?”

The tactic worked. Kevin’s face grew even rosier. “Aye,” he said. “If she will have me.”

“I do not believe there is much doubt about that,” she said. “But I am pleased you are not trifling with her.”

“Nay, my lady, I would no‘ do that.”

“How are you and young Jamie getting along?”

“He is a good lad,” Kevin said. “Quick and willing.”

“Has he lived here long?”

“All his life. He was here with his father, who beat him. The marquis indentured him and sent the father away, then freed him.” Kevin’s words were full of awe and respect.

Janet just wished the marquis would free her. But Kevin’s words made her wonder. She kept hearing these small stories. Except they were not small at all. They were very big. She had heard something similar from Torquil. And the cook.

And yet except for a kiss or two, Braemoor showed so little emotion, said so little about other people. She always had the impression of aloneness. Even when he had courted her years ago, he had been quiet about his background, about friends. Now that she thought about it, she had never seen him in friendly conversation with another person.

She had never met anyone as puzzling as Braemoor.

Whenever she thought she understood a little about him, he did something else that completely negated her earlier opinion. She knew, though, that she was going to ask Jamie. And Torquil.

Jamie was not exactly forthcoming. He was shy. Only when she brought Samson and her older girl to see him did he relax.

“You like animals?”

“Aye, the previous mistress had a wee dog.”

“Tell me about her.”

“She was a fine lady. Like you, my lady. She had the same spirit.”

Spirit?

Janet had not thought she had spirit at all recently. She realized suddenly that she had worried so about
feeling
trapped that she had
become
trapped. And by her own hand. Not Braemoor’s.

“What happened to her?” She kept hoping
someone
would know more than she’d already been told.

“No one knows, my lady. She disappeared with the Black Knave. They say the marquis went after her and was killed.”

They say
. The words repeated themselves in his mind.
They say
. It was almost as if the lad did not believe them.

“And the Black Knave?”

“He disappeared at the same time, my lady. Some say the marquis might have killed him before dying himself. Others say he fled the king’s justice.”

“And no one has heard of the marchioness since?”

“Nay,” he replied.

“Who lived in the cottage down the road and in the woods?”

Jamie’s eyes widened and he busied himself with Samson, rubbing his ears as the dog’s throat rumbled with pleasure.

“Mistress Mary Ferguson. They say she was a witch.”

“A witch. Is that why no one goes there?”

“Aye, they say she bewitched the former marquis.”

“The one who went after his wife and was killed by the Black Knave?”

“Aye.”

“He must have been a busy man.” She tried to remember him from her own visit eight years ago, but she did not. He must have been away.

“What was he like?”

Jamie seemed reluctant to say anything.

“Jamie ... ?”

“ ‘E gamed,” Jamie said.

“And what else?”

Jamie was silent for a moment, then words rushed out of his mouth. “They say ‘e was a coward, but I dinna believe it. ’E told my da no‘ to beat me. ’E was good to me.” Tears hovered on the edge of his eyes.

“And the present lord?”

“ ‘E is different,” Jamie said, wiping the tears from his eyes. “’E got rid of my da, but because Master Rory told him to.”

Janet sat on a bundle of hay. It was obvious the lad’s loyalty was to the former lord, although it had been Neil who had freed him from a brutal father. Because Neil had replaced the boy’s protector?

But if Neil’s cousin had been so wonderful, then why had his wife tried to escape him? And why had he betrayed her with Jamie’s witch?

So many puzzles. Just as there were about the present marquis. Did Braemoor breed enigmas?

“Did the ... former marquis and the present one like each other?”

“ ‘Tis no’ fer me to say,” Jamie said.

Then the answer was no. She would ask Neil about his predecessor. Mayhap she could learn something from him.

The lad rose. “I ‘ave work to do, my lady.”

It was obvious that he felt acutely uncomfortable talking about his master. She would find out no more. But she had two other sources: the young maid who had served the marchioness, and Torquil. Of the two, Torquil would be the most difficult. Thus, it was important to have as much information as possible before approaching him.

Trilby first.

Because Neil had suggested it, she had asked Trilby to help Clara with the children. Janet knew that Lucy would never willingly give up being a personal maid to her. She had taken such pride in her elevation.

She went up to the nursery. The lasses were awake with Clara and Trilby. So was Colin, who was raising himself by holding onto the chair. He was ten months old. He would be walking soon, getting into everything. She went over to him and he let go of the chair, raising his arms to her. There was so much trust in that gesture.

She picked him up and held him close to her. She put her head next to his, feeling the softness of his hair. “My big lad,” she said, “I will keep you safe no matter what.” And no matter the consequences to her. He
was
probably safer here. Her own wounded pride had blinded her to that. So had her fear that the marquis had some ulterior motive in taking Lochaene. But even if he did, would it not be better for her son to be safe than to own an overextended debt-ridden estate?

He squirmed from her embrace, and she looked into his eyes. Deep blue like hers. He looked so serious, as if he understood everything she said. Then he broke into a blinding smile. A charmer. He would be that.

“Can we go for a ride on our ponies?” Rachel pleaded.

They had about five hours before dusk.

“I will ask the cook to bring you tea,” she said, “while I feed Colin. Then we will have a riding lesson.”

“Really?” Annabella stared up at her, and she realized that she had not been as attentive as she usually was. She had allowed her own fears to reach out and touch them.

“Really,” she confirmed. “I will be back for you in an hour.”

She balanced Colin in her arms, aware of how quickly he was growing, and made for the door. “Trilby, can you come with me?”

“Oh aye, ma’am,” she said, obviously delighted to be asked. Janet only hoped she would be as delighted in a few moments.

She led the way to her room. “Can you get some mush and honey for Colin?”

“Aye, your ladyship.”

Janet took her son over to the window as Trilby left. She looked out all too often. Part of her hoped that she would see Neil Forbes, the Marquis of Braemoor, riding in. Another part feared what would happen when he did. Another kiss? Something greater?

Where was he? What was he doing? And why did she care so much?

She sat in a rocking chair and talked to Colin as she often did. “What do you think?”

He looked at her inquisitively as if he understood.

“Do you trust the marquis?”

He gurgled.

“That is not a very good answer.”

Colin grinned.

“Is that an aye?”

Colin pulled her ear.

“I want so much for you,” she said. “And your sisters. They will never be forced into marriage. But you, my son, will have no problem finding just the right bride.”

He mumbled something.

“Ah, love, one of these days you will know the agony and the joy of love.”

Just then a knock came at the door.

“Come in.”

Trilby entered with a tray in her hands. “Would ye like me to be taking the lad, my lady?”

“Nay, I will do it,” she said. “But sit and talk to me.”

Looking none too comfortable, Trilby sat.

Janet felt guilty—but not so guilty that she would not ask the questions she wanted answered.

She held Colin and spooned mush into his mouth, getting much of it on her.

Even while feeding her son, she looked toward Trilby. “Tell me about your former mistress.”

A smile brightened her face. It was immediately obvious that Trilby had liked the marchioness.

“She was an angel,” Trilby said.

“But she ran away from her husband.”

“If she did, she had reason. But I think ...” She stopped.

“What do you think, Trilby?”

“I think she and the marquis ... loved each other.”

“Then why ... ?”

“I do not know, my lady.” She shut her lips tightly.

Mystery upon mystery.

“And the current marquis?”

“What about ‘im, my lady?”

Another stone wall. No one seemed to want to discuss the current nor the last marquis.

“I want to thank you for being so kind to my daughters.”

She blushed. “They are easy to like.”

“How long has Torquil been here?”

“Only since the marquis inherited Braemoor,” Trilby said. “He was a footman at first, but then became butler.”

Trilby was busying her fingers with each other. She was obviously uncomfortable at the questions. “You may go, Trilby,” Janet said. “Thank you.”

Trilby stood and bobbed. “It is good to ‘ave a lady ’ere again.”

Janet sat for a moment and played with Colin, even as her mind ran over the conversation. She discovered she knew even less than she had before. The puzzle was even more difficult to decipher.

Nothing seemed to be as it appeared.

Including the Marquis of Braemoor.

*

Neil wondered what in the hell he’d agreed to. He was no hero. No knight. He had not the faintest idea how to find passage for Jacobite refugees.

Subterfuge had never been his strong suit. He always met problems headlong.

And now he was committed to something that could not only get him hanged but also destroy everyone around him. Including Janet and all the people at Braemoor.

It had not even been the fact that Will was really Janet’s brother. He knew he had mentally committed himself to trying to get the children out even before he knew of the relationship.

Why had he not considered the fact that he was probably incapable of helping them?

He did not have the connections his cousin obviously had. He did not even know how to go about locating them. Who
had
helped him? And why?

Burke had led him back down the path. He had put the blindfold back on, and Neil had not protested. He was pleased that Will—Alex—was cautious. It also gave Neil time to consider the enormity of the task he’d just undertaken.

Ten children. And two wanted outlaws, one who could not be easily disguised. Even a beard would not cover the scar that ran alongside his face. The lower part, yes. But there was no way of covering the upper part of the jagged scar. It would draw attention to him as if it were a brand.

So any attempt to leave from a Scottish port, or an English one, would be foolish. That left a smuggler, leaving from some isolated beach along the coast. But how could Neil find a smuggler he could trust?

He would return to Braemoor and go through all his cousin’s belongings. And the cache at the cottage. Mayhap he could find a hint. A name. An invoice for the brandy that he always had at hand. French brandy. Which meant it had been smuggled. But then there would be no invoice.

Bloody hell.

Mayhap he would go to Edinburgh. Visit taverns. Listen. Was there not an actress that he remembered being mentioned as one of his cousin’s many paramours?

First Braemoor. Then Edinburgh.

Satisfied that he had at least the beginning of a plan, he settled in the saddle and tried to relax.