Courting the Scot Read online

  “Why?”

  Davina sank down on a bench. “What is the purpose of courtin’?”

  What a silly question. “Courtin’ leads to betrothal that leads to marriage.” He sat beside Davina and took her hand. “And many more kisses,” he whispered. “I ken our families would be happy if we made a match.”

  She swiped a tear. Why wasn’t she happy?

  “Davina, I’ve thought about this. I admit I went about it wrong today by kissin’ ye like I did, but I’ve been tryin’ to tell ye of my intentions for a few months. I just couldna find the right words.”

  “I am honored by yer attention, but ye should go to London. No’ for me but for ye.”

  “It is for both of us.”

  “Nay, Ian. We willna court when ye return.”

  His heartbeat picked up at being set aside. Had he misunderstood the kiss so poorly? Is this how the lasses felt in London after he’d kissed them and left them wanting? Was his past about to bite him in the arse? “Why?”

  “My family needs me. Uncle Aiden needs me. If I married, they’d be lost.”

  Ian scoffed at the very idea. “They would get on fine.”

  “Nay. Doona ye understand? I am mistress of Annagburn. Nobody else kens what needs to be done. Today, I was reminded of that fact when I returned from archery, and spent the rest of my afternoon instructin’ the cook and servants and finishin’ the household accounts.”

  “If yer uncle married, then his wife would be the mistress, then what will become of ye?”

  Davina snorted. “Uncle Aiden is never going to marry again.”

  “Why not?” Ian demanded. “He’s young enough for a bride and more children.”

  “We both ken that after Meg, Uncle Aiden willna love again.” She stood and brushed her hands on her skirt. “Go to London if ye must, but do so to find a bride who is free.” With that, she turned from him.

  Ian reached out and grabbed her hand. “Mark my words, lass. When I return I will court ye.” More than ever he was determined to win this challenge. Not only would he prove to Davina, and her family, that he was not a rake, but then he’d go about winning her on his return.

  Chapter 4

  The days passed slowly for Davina. An emptiness inside that had started small was growing larger with each day that Ian was gone. A dark abyss, swallowing and squeezing her heart.

  Not that Ian returning would solve anything. She was reminded of that fact each and every day as she saw to Annagburn.

  “Letters from Jesse and Fanella,” Sheena cried as she ran into the library where Davina sat doing the household accounts.

  Davina had expected to hear from them before now and worried that something may have happened. It was rare for the two to go so long between writing when they were away.

  Ian had been gone nearly a month and she dreaded hearing the news of this latest conquests, yet she needed to know the truth so she could be assured that her decision was the right one. If he couldn’t keep from kissing anyone in London then he would have gotten bored with kissing only her.

  “Which should we read first?” Arabella asked.

  “Fanella’s,” Sheena answered as she tore it open. “She’ll have more gossip.”

  “Let’s wait for the tea and cakes. We must have them to enjoy while we read and discuss,” Arabella insisted.

  With a sigh, Davina set the quill aside and got up from the desk. She’d get no peace until she learned what was in those letters.

  A moment later, one of the footmen entered with a tray and set it in the middle of the table. Davina took her seat and began to pour. “Go on.” She nodded to Sheena.

  Dearest Davina, Arabella and Sheena,

  Ian chastised us when he learned that we had not written you in nearly a month and practically ordered us to our rooms to put quill to parchment. I do not understand why it is so important to him, but we promised to write to you and tell you everything. Unfortunately, there is very little to write this Season. London has been dull and exciting and no different from last year.

  “How can it be both?” Arabella asked, as she picked up a raspberry tart.

  “I’m sure she’ll get to that,” Davina answered.

  We have had a grand time making the rounds to all the balls, soirees, picnics, the theatre, musicales, and any entertainment you can imagine. Maddie was able to arrange for invitations to most of the sought-after events. She and Lachlan are always with us and we are having a delightful time. However, Mother despairs that we have yet to find a lord to settle upon. We have needed to remind her that it is the lord who needs to settle upon one of us and not the other way around. Every time we attend an entertainment, she puts more and more pressure upon us to attract the lords she feels are worthy of us when Jesse and I would rather just enjoy ourselves.

  Maddie’s brothers are very nice, as are their wives. We had met them last year, but with all the turmoil of Jordan’s arrest, when he was falsely accused of murder, then when the entire family, Lachlan included, retired to the country last May, we had not had a chance to come to know them very well. This year has been different, and we’ve come to know Maddie’s family much better. They have also been of assistance in introducing us to their friends, though Mother prefers we do not form attachments to any of Jordan’s acquaintances.

  “Which brother is Jordan?” Arabella asked. “I canna remember.”

  Sheena looked up from the letter. “Clayton, Jordan, Matthew, John and then Maddie. That is the order.”

  “That’s right.” Arabella nodded. “He was the rake, much like Ian, before Jordan married Audrey.”

  That was about all they knew of Maddie’s siblings, other than Clayton was married to Eleanor, Matthew was once a vicar and had married Grace, and that John was married to Elizabeth. Maddie had only mentioned them in passing, though Davina suspected Lachlan’s wife had come from a titled family. If she had, it was never remarked upon.

  Jordan was the second born, and Maddie told them about his wicked reputation and how much he loved the ladies. All ladies. She had been fairly certain that Jordan hadn’t met a woman he didn’t like.

  Just like Ian!

  I promise to write more if anything exciting happens, but I do not expect it to.

  Your dear friend, Fanella

  She wrote nothing about Ian except that he arrived and ordered them to write. Davina needed to know if Ian was doing any kissing and courting.

  “Read Jesse’s,” Arabella insisted.

  Sheena tore into it and unfolded the parchment.

  Davina, Arabella and Sheena,

  As I am certain Fanella has reported on the London entertainments, Maddie’s family, and Mother’s despair of us landing a lord, I will not bore you with those details again. However, there is one concern weighing on my mind—Ian. We had hoped that we would at least be entertained watching Ian flirt with one lady or miss after another, breaking hearts, and skirting scandal, and wondering if this was the Season he would finally be caught and forced into marriage.

  Sadly, that has not occurred. He’s been in London over three weeks and has escorted us to every function imaginable, but he has not danced, called on, or kissed anyone. I even asked if he was feeling well. I have suggested he see a physician.

  Ian is not acting or behaving like himself and it worries me. It is as if he’s lost all interest in lasses. Even the widows, who I know he visited privately last spring, do not hold his interest any longer.

  He promised that he is not ill or worried, but I know something must be wrong. Did anything happen after we left that would make my brother swear off the entire female population?

  I eagerly await your answer.

  I will try to write again, but unless Ian returns to his old habits, there will be little to write about.

  Yours,

  Jesse

  As Sheena put the letter aside, both she and Arabella looked at Davina.

  “What?” she demanded.

  “It seems ye may be winnin’.” Arabella
grinned. “What is the prize?”

  Davina’s face heated. “There is no prize, and it’s silly that he’s behavin’ in such a manner.” Though, it thrilled her to her toes that nobody had caught his eye. Yet.

  “I think we should write Jesse and Fanella,” Sheena suggested.

  “Aye, I agree. They have a right to ken what is wrong with their brother.” Arabella grinned. “They’ll watch more closely to see if he fails. Make sure and tell them to report each and every detail so we can be assured that he’s behavin’.”

  “That isna necessary,” Davina insisted. The last thing she wanted were the details of Ian’s conquests because he certainly could not make it through two more months in London without dancing once, let alone kissing anyone.

  London, May 1, 1815

  The crowd tonight was more suffocating than usual, and as much as Ian wished to be at his club, relaxing in the quiet atmosphere of gentlemen, he’d forced himself to attend the ball celebrating the marriage of Genviève Mirabelle and Mr. Jonathan Bridges. Ian did not know the bride, but Bridges was a friend. He also owned a shipping line and had been smuggling their whisky into London for a few years now, so it wasn’t a surprise that he and his family were invited to the wedding.

  What Ian hadn’t been able to determine, however, was why the Earl of Bentley had hosted the ball. As far as he was aware, there was no connection between the Mirabelles, or Bridges, to the Trents, though he didn’t pretend to know all of the connections of the ton and preferred not to be as embroiled as his mother. She couldn’t let a gossip rag pass beneath her nose without reading every last detail.

  The ball was certainly a crush. More so than any he had attended since he’d arrived in London, and his mother was hopeful that the bachelors in attendance would be put in a mind to marry as well. And preferably they’d be put in a mind to choose Jesse or Fanella. The two were not without dance partners often, but they’d yet to find a gentleman who held any interest.

  At least with his mother despairing over his sister’s futures, she was not focusing on Ian, thank goodness, because he did not need her to play matchmaker for him as well. He was already well matched, which she would learn once they returned home.

  It had been exactly two months since Ian told Davina that they’d start courting when he returned. Two long bloody months of attending functions and not really participating. Two months since he kissed her.

  His sisters had been watched him much like Arabella’s hawks studied the landscape for rodents as they flew through the sky, but not once did he step out of line. He did have something to prove, which in the end had been quite easy. There was not one lass, or widow, in London whom he cared to dance with, let alone kiss or bed. Davina was the only lass who mattered to him and he was ready to return home to begin courting her.

  Certainly she’d changed her mind by now. Oh, what was the old poem he once read from Poetical Rhapsody? “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

  “What was that, Ian?” Mother asked.

  Blast! He hadn’t meant to say the words aloud, but he certainly hoped that was what Davina was experiencing. “Nothin’.”

  She smiled at him, a twinkle in her eyes, and Ian’s stomach dropped.

  “It isna like ye to quote poetry. Has a lass caught yer attention? Is that why ye seem to have reformed?”

  Double blast. “No, Mother. I simply doona find London as entertaining as I once did. I am ready to return to Falkirk.”

  “I was hoping the wedding would put ye in a mind to find a bride,” she said hopefully.

  Perhaps it was the wedding of Bridges and Miss Mirabelle that had him missing Davina more than he had. Not that he was ready to be betrothed, he hadn’t even been allowed to court her yet. But the memory of her kiss, and the passion that nearly ignited between them, was never far from his mind.

  “Oh, look, Bentley is going to make an announcement,” his mother said as a dance ended and the earl stepped up onto the dais. He was probably going to congratulate the bride and the groom, as was customary at these events, and Ian was glad to have a glass of wine to toast the happy couple.

  “Thank you all for coming,” Bentley began as he raised a wine glass. “It is a pleasure of both my wife and myself to hold this ball in honor of Mr. Jonathan Bridges and the former Miss Genviève Mirabelle, who were married today.” He looked toward the couple who stood just at the edge of the dais. “To Mr. and Mrs. Jonathan Bridges.”

  The guests raised their glasses and murmured congratulations.

  “I am honored to welcome Mr. Bridges to the family and I’m positive that my sister will be happy.”

  Family? Sister? Ian turned to his mother and lifted a questioning eyebrow. If anyone knew what Bentley meant it would be her, but his mother simply shrugged, and by the look on her face, she was as confused as everyone else.

  “Yes, you heard me correctly.” Bentley smiled. “Genviève Mirabelle, now Mrs. Bridges, is my half-sister, as are Lady Acker and Mrs. Sebastian Stanwick.”

  The three ladies joined Bentley on the dais.

  Maddie had three sisters? She’d never once mentioned them in the year and a half she’d been married to Lachlan, who hadn’t spoken of them either.

  By the stirrings of the crowd and the hushed comments, this news appeared to be a surprise to everyone in attendance, save Bentley’s immediate family.

  “You may recall that many years ago my father lost his second wife and daughter, Julia, in a carriage accident.”

  More murmurs followed, though a number of faces still held looks of confusion, as if they were wondering what one had to do with the other.

  “It was a lie,” he boldly announced, loudly and with a hint of anger. “A lie my brothers and I were not aware of until recently. A lie that he told his wife, the dowager countess, during their entire marriage. A lie,” his voice grew louder, “that he took to the grave, only to be discovered by myself after going through his papers.”

  The murmurs from the guests grew louder.

  Bentley held out his hand to Lady Acker and brought her forward. “Many of you, and myself, believed that my sister, Julia, was killed with her mother. Instead, my stepmother and sister were sent to France and Julia’s name was changed to Juliette Mirabelle. There she lived with her mother and great-grandmother, until she was nearly seventeen. The family then moved to Italy.” Bentley smiled down at his sister. “As you know, before we learned the truth, Juliette Mirabelle had already made a name for herself as a ballerina and continues to grace the stage.”

  Ian found himself smiling. He had seen her dance last year. Not that he usually enjoyed the ballet but a particular widow wished for his escort. As Ian enjoyed the widow’s bed, he had suffered through a night at the ballet.

  Bentley then brought Mrs. Stanwick and Mrs. Bridges forward. “My stepmother also took a secret with her when she left, and supposedly died.” He glanced at each sister fondly. “Had my father known, he would not have sent her away. The twins were born in Paris, four months after their mother was sent from England.”

  What kind of wife kept her pregnancy from her husband? Then again, that same husband had sent his wife and child to France and lied about their deaths. Ian did a quick calculation in his head. Bloody hell, the former earl hadn’t just sent them to Paris but right into the middle of a bloody revolution.

  Maddie rarely spoke of her father, but when she did, they were not pleasant memories, and Ian was beginning to believe that the secret the former Lady Bentley held was for the safety of the children.

  “He married my stepmother a year later.” Bentley nodded to the dowager viscountess, Madeline’s mother.

  “She was a mother to my brothers and me, and also provided another sister whom you know as Lady Brachton.”

  Bentley raised his glass again. “So, thank you for joining my family in celebrating my sister’s nuptials.”

  “Did ye ken any of this?” his mother hissed.

  “Nay.”

  “Lachlan should have
warned us.” Her tone was quiet, but there was an edge of irritation. “You ken what this means and the ramifications?”

  Ian didn’t even want to guess what his mother was thinking.

  “Lachlan married a bas…”

  “Doona say it,” Ian cut her off. “She is his wife, and he loves her.”

  “Aye, it doesna matter to me,” his mother quietly affirmed. “I’m thinkin’ of the gossip, the ruination of the family, and how ours being linked to theirs could reflect poorly on yer sisters.”

  He did not need his mother to create problems and difficulties that may not come to be. Ian leaned in close to his mother’s ear. “We will discuss this at home.”

  She bit her bottom lip as she nodded, and Ian knew that she’d be worrying about this for the rest of the Season.

  “Enough, already,” His Grace, the Duke of Danby called from the side of the room. “I, for one, am not surprised by the actions of your father, Bentley. I’m sure nobody here is either. Now, move aside and let the orchestra play on. Your stepmother has promised me a waltz, and I intend to claim it.”

  “Well, if the Duke of Danby approves, I have nothing to worry about,” his mother said as she relaxed and smiled.

  “Oh, I canna wait to write to Davina about this. Our letters have been so dull this season,” Fanella said quietly, but with glee.

  His mother speared her daughter with a look. “Ye willna be writin’ about this to anyone, nor will ye speak of it when we return home.”

  The smile on Fanella’s face fell.

  “Think of Maddie,” Jesse whispered.

  Though Ian suspected his mother wished to avoid the scandal at home, he knew that his youngest sister had Maddie’s interest at heart. Of all the children, it was Jesse who was the most sensitive and thoughtful of others.

  “Very well.” Fanella blew out a sigh. “But there is nothing else to write. Ian hasna stepped out of line once.”