The Wild Rose of Kilgannon (30 page)

"The choice is yours, sir. I will not have my court turned into a circus."

"Then bring reasonable charges against me. If yer goal is to hang me, ye don't need more than the charge of treason. I will answer for what I've done, but
no
more. Ye have the wrong charges, sir, and the wrong name. Yer court canna even get my name correct." "The choice is yours, Kilgannon." "Can ye hang me in absentia, your
honour
?" "I think not."

"Then I will be here to see this through." "As you wish, Kilgannon. But remember my terms." Alex nodded grimly. "Pm
no
likely to forget them."

The morning was spent hearing several witnesses, all English or Campbells, who swore that Alex was at
Sherifmuir
and had been in the company of the rebels. Alex had watched the witnesses in stony silence, leaning gracefully against the back railing of the dock, his arms crossed over his chest. The witnesses continued into the afternoon, and by day's end it had been determined that Alex had been with the rebels, with the added information that he had been said to attend the war councils of the Earl of Mar and that he kept company with such known rebels as Sir Donald MacDonald and the Macleans.

The crowd had grown bored with the proceedings, and there had been fewer of them in the afternoon. The testimony continued, officer after officer claiming to have seen Alex at Sherrifmuir, in the Jacobite troops led by General Gordon. As the last officer stepped down, Alex leaned forward and caught the judge's eye.

"Sir, I have admitted that I was at the
battle
of Sherrifmuir, leading my men. Can we
no'
have done with this part of it? We've wasted a whole day proving what I've never denied. I took arms against yer king. No' mine, but yers."

"Sir, you have been warned."

"Aye, but, your
honour
, let's get on with it. I took arms against yer Geordie. But I will never agree that it is treason."

"You claim James Stewart as your king?"

"No."

Lord Webster's voice was harsh. "You do not claim James Stewart as king of England and Ireland and
Scotland
?"

"I do
no
claim James Stewart as my king. I have
no
king."

"You must have a king. You must declare yourself for one or the other. You have chosen James Stewart."

"I did once declare myself for the Stewart, sir, but
no
more."

"Then who is king of your country?"

Alex leaned forward as he and the judge stared at each other. They might have been alone in the room. "I have
no
king, nor need o' one. I wish only to be left alone to live my life without interference. Leave me and mine alone and I willna bother ye. I've
no
desire to fight your army, nor do most Scots. Take yer armies home and leave us be. Get out of my country and I will stay out of yers. But if ye come to dominate us, we'll resist. As ye would. I was only defending my homeland." The crowd muttered and the judges exchanged glances. De-Broun watched Alex.

Lord Webster spoke slowly. "You admit that you took arms against King George, King of all Britain."

Alex shook his head. "No. I took arms against King George, King of England. Not King of all Britain. Just England. I do no' deny that George of Hanover is King of England, and that I fought his troops. I fought men who would dominate my country against its will. I fought troops occupying my homeland. And I would do so again. But I do no longer seek to restore James Stewart."

"Why?"

"Because he is unfit to rule. But"— Alex smiled—"at least he can speak English." The crowd laughed and the judge frowned. He pounded on the desk and declared the day over.

W
E WERE A SOBER
GROUP AT LOUISA'S THAT EVENING
, even
Harry
made quiet by the day's events. Gilbey and Matthew snuck in to join us and we revisited the day over and over. After dinner we sat in the library, discussing it yet again. Kenneth Ogilvie was reading his notes, and Angus withdrew to the window. I joined him and after a moment met his blue eyes, so like Alex's.

"Lass, do ye trust me?" he asked quietly.

"Always," I said and he nodded with the ghost of a smile.

"Then promise me one thing, Mary," he said. "If I tell ye to stay or to go somewhere, will ye do it without questions?"

"No," I said and watched the anger flash in his eyes. "No. I'll still ask questions. But you don't have to answer them."

He shook his head at me, the anger replaced by amusement. "Fair enough. At least yer consistent, lass," he said, then moved away to withdraw with Randolph to a corner while Louisa talked with Matthew and Gilbey. I returned to the couch, and sat staring into the fire, looking up when my view was blocked. Kenneth stood before me with a quiet smile.

"A very interesting beginning," he said.

"A disaster already, sir," I answered.

"No, no, not at all, Lady Mary," he said, sitting next to me. "Quite the opposite."

"What do you mean?" I asked as the others gathered around us, Angus and Randolph standing with folded arms before us.

"Well," said Kenneth, "you pointed it out yourself, Lady Mary, and it may yet be important. Alex's name was incorrect."

"Yes, but what matters—"

"What matters is that the indictments were brought against a man who does not exist."

I stared at him. "Does that make a difference?"

Kenneth waved a hand. "I believe Alex's lawyer can apply to the court for dismissal of the charges. It's unlikely they will be dropped, but Alexander Ian James Keith Fraser MacGannon was not indicted this morning. If Alex is found guilty, perhaps we can prove that the man who is guilty of treason does not exist. Stranger things have happened. After the rebellion of 88, several rebels were let free because of stupid errors by clerks. We'll make note of it and see what happens."

"We ken what will happen, Ogilvie," growled Angus.

"Not for certain, Angus," said Kenneth, unperturbed. Angus shrugged. I looked up at the lawyer, fearful of hoping.

"I will speak to the barrister in the morning," said Randolph.

Tuesday was
little
better. Alex's lawyer had agreed to discuss our concerns about the name with the judges. When the time was right. I made no comment when Randolph told me. The day in court, a very long day, was spent determining that Alex had been seen with Jacobites. Alex appeared bored, but I watched with a growing terror. It was true. They would convict him. At the end of the day, as he was led out, I tried to smile, but I'm sure my face showed my thoughts. Alex lifted his chin and waved.

That night I dreamed of being in his arms in the Tower, of him next to me, about to kiss me, his hair falling about his shoulders as he moved. I could feel the hair on his chest as he leaned against my breasts and his quiet chuckle when the baby moved and we could both feel it. I woke, cold and alone, to feel the baby move again, and I stared at nothing, trying to conjure Alex back to me.

Wednesday morning London buzzed with a new topic. Richard Steele, one of the authors of The Spectator, had taken up Alex's cause in his journal. Steele, notorious for selecting those of questionable virtue in society and raising them to a pedestal where they were endowed with every quality desirable in a member of a civilized society, had declared Alex the "New Scotsman," a breed of man never seen before. Alex, Steele stated, embodied the courage and intelligence
necessary
for a leader, even for a leader of an unknown and unaccomplished group of Scots on the border of beyond.

"We are forced, once again, to consider that cold land to our north," wrote Steele. "What to think, when an uneducated man such as Kilgannon, though fair of form and face as he is, raises the very issues that so many of us have discussed behind closed doors? That the Scots, long a thorn in the side of the royal personage and those that sit in Parliament, should be unhappy in the union so swiftly imposed upon them, is of no surprise to any thoughtful Londoner. But that a man such as Kilgannon, on trial for treason against that very union, can express his discontent not only with our royal leader but with the other claimants of that position, is of the utmost interest. One scarcely knows how to address such a situation. If the Scots view themselves as not of this union, then this latest insurrection will not be the last, but only one in a continuous series of rebellions designed with only one purpose, the annihilation of that aforementioned and despised union, and without complete direction as to the desired leader in the resulting void.

"Kilgannon refuses to be cowed by our courts. He is of a breed apart from us, a breed both civilized and violent, which will take arms over ideas and asks to be left alone with its own kind. It will be a futile attempt to fashion these Hig
hland lairds into English gentlemen
. Perhaps we should follow the pattern of the Romans and leave them to their northern climes. Perhaps we would be better to let those not of us be separated from us, lest we all perish in the attempt for affiliation. Why not leave the barbarous Scots to their own devices rather than to pretend that we can fuse in peace? We would be better to have them as allies than subjects."

Steele's essay was so well received that the other papers joined him with their own flourishes and even the more prosaic suggested that perhaps the Union should be reconsidered.

That day at the trial it was determined yet again that Alex had fought with the Jacobites, and he met my eyes with a shrug as he was led away at the end of the day. Nothing, it appeared, not even boredom, would hurry these judges.

That evening Louisa's maid came to my door, her eyes huge. "Lady Mary," she said, wringing her hands, "Lady Randolph requests your presence in the library at once."

I rose, alarmed. "What is it?"

"I don't know, madam, but the Duke of Grafton has just arrived as well. Please hurry."

In the library I found Louisa and Randolph, and Uncle Harry. And Bronson. Their expressions were serious and Louisa seemed distraught. Harry was agitated as he paced the room, rubbing his arm. When he turned to me I could see that he was angry as well.

"Mary," Harry said in a tight tone be
fore anyone else could speak, "I’
ve heard a very strange story this evening."

"What is it, Harry? What have you heard? Is it news of Alex?" But Harry did not immediately answer me. I looked from Harry to Louisa and saw that she had been crying. "Is it Alex?"

"No," said Randolph, shaking his head. Harry broke in before Randolph could continue.

"I realize we have not always been close, Mary," Harry said. "But I hope you know I am very fond of you and your brother."

"Yes, Uncle Harry," I said, confused, "and we of you."

"I had assumed that. So, you can imagine my surprise upon hearing tonight that you have not told us something so very important. Or is it perhaps not true?"

"What? Is what not true?"

"Mary, my dear," said Randolph, "Bronson told me this evening that Lord DeBroun came to you
shortly
before Alex's trial began and asked you to marry him sometime in the future. Is this true?"

I looked at Bronson, despising him for his meddling. He looked away. I turned to Randolph again. "Yes," I said.

"You may leave us, Bronson," said Randolph.

The buder moved to the door, meeting my eyes as he passed me. "Lady
Mary
," Bronson said, "I told Lord Randolph because I felt that Lord DeBroun had acted most unwisely and that he put you in a very difficult position. I thought it was for the best."

I nodded coldly. I would deal with Bronson later. The look of hurt in Louisa's and Randolph's eyes lacerated me, and I wondered for the first time if I had been right to conceal DeBroun's visit. When the door shut behind Bronson,
Harry
whirled around to face me.

"How did you answer Lord DeBroun,
Mary
?" he demanded.

"I didn't, Harry," I said and told them of DeBroun's visit, my answer and my concerns.

Harry nodded, chewing his lip and rubbing his arm thoughtfully, his anger visibly dissipating. "You understand that you should have told me?"

"Or me," said Randolph.

"Or me," said Louisa
faintly
and my heart sank. I had not meant to hurt any of them, and I said as much.

"You should have come to your family," said Harry. "What's the use of being a duke if your family doesn't come to you with its problems? I am not without power. You should have come to me."

"I was afraid for Alex, Harry. I thought if I was harsh in my refusal then DeBroun would be hostile to Alex."

"And you thought that if you were pleasant to him, he'd be lenient to the man whose wife he covets? Surely you cannot have thought this?"

"I did not know what to think. It was unexpected and unwelcome and it caught me off guard. I still am not sure what I should have said."