Grace Burrowes - [MacGregor 02] Read online

  “Fiona deserves at least a day to make her good-byes,” Ian said. He did not offer Spathfoy his hand, and at that moment, Hester would have been glad to see Ian draw a pistol on their guest.

  Their guest. Her would-be fiancé, Fee’s long-lost uncle, Hester’s suitor—his list of transgressions grew with every breath Hester took. She fisted her hands at her sides and raised her chin to meet Spathfoy’s calm green-eyed gaze.

  “My lord, perhaps you’d like to join us. Ian and I were just about to explain to Fiona that you’ll be taking her to live in England.”

  “To visit,” Ian said though clenched teeth. “It might be a ten-year-long visit, though I can assure you, Spathfoy, it will be the longest, most miserable ten years you or your benighted excuse for a father pass on earth. I will bankrupt you with lawsuits, spread the scandal wherever I go, trade on my acquaintance with the Sovereign, and deluge my niece with letters, ponies, and visits from her Scottish relations until that girl comes home to the people who love her—and my efforts will be as nothing compared to what Mary Fran and Matthew will do.”

  Hester risked a look at Spathfoy’s face. His features might have been carved in marble, so austere was his expression. “You do what you must, Balfour, as do I. Miss Daniels, I regret that you’ve learned of this development from someone other than myself. I had intended to tell you after the meal tonight.”

  Was he insinuating he’d have told her when she was naked and panting in his arms?

  “Ian has spared you the trouble, my lord. Perhaps we ought to concern ourselves with conveying Fiona’s good fortune to her?”

  She kept her voice perfectly, lethally civil.

  Spathfoy looked uncomfortable. “Hester, I had hoped to be able to tell the girl you’d be joining us on our travels.”

  “Hopes get dashed with appalling regularity, my lord. Ian, this task is not made easier by putting it off.” She took Ian’s arm and let him escort her into the library, leaving Spathfoy to trail after them and close the door quietly.

  “Uncle Ian!” Fiona shot away from the big estate desk and wrapped her arms around Ian’s waist. “Is Aunt Augusta with you?”

  “She is not, though you’ll see her soon, I’m sure. What have you been drawing, Fee?” He hoisted her to his hip, as if she were a younger child, and carried her to the chair behind the desk.

  “I’m working on my lions, like the lion that was Androcles’s friend. I can’t get the nose right, but I thought I’d go out to the stables and look at the cats, and maybe that would help.”

  “Any excuse to visit the stables, right?” He sat with her in his lap, leaving Hester to go to the window and try to shut out the conversation taking place. She was aware of Spathfoy standing beside her and tried to shut his presence out as well.

  “Fiona, you know your uncle Tye must leave us tomorrow?” Ian’s voice was conversational and pleasant, not at all the tone of a man imparting bad news.

  “Yes, but he might visit again, mightn’t he?”

  “He’s your uncle, so we’d never turn him away, but he’s offered to take you with him on his journey. To take you on the train clear down to Northumbria.”

  Ian made it sound as if this were a grand adventure, an unparalleled opportunity, and viewed dispassionately, perhaps it was.

  More likely, Spathfoy’s “offer” would ruin a fragile child’s last prayer of happiness. Hester wiped a tear from her cheek and tried to figure out what, exactly, Spathfoy had done wrong. She wanted to name his sin and hold it close for as long as it took to forget him.

  “If you’ll agree not to do this, I’ll marry you, Spathfoy.” She kept her voice low while Fiona asked Ian a question about how fast the trains went.

  “You’d hate me if I accepted that offer, Hester. I’d hoped you would understand. This is for the child’s own good, though if the choice were mine, I’d leave her here.”

  “The choice is yours.”

  “It is not.” He held out a handkerchief to her. She ignored it and fumbled for her own.

  “Tiberius, how could you?”

  She hated herself for asking, mostly because there was no explanation he could offer—not for stealing Fiona away, not for lying about the purpose of his visit—that would ease the ache in her heart.

  “We’ll talk.” He squeezed her shoulder, which had her fisting her hands at her sides again lest she tear into him physically. Perhaps he sensed her growing ire, because he moved away.

  “I don’t think I want to go right now, Uncle Ian.” Fiona fiddled with a pencil as she stared at her drawings. “I’d rather wait until Mama and Papa come home, and then we can all visit together. You and Aunt Augusta and Aunt Hester can come too.”

  “But not your wee cousin, eh, child?” Ian had switched to Gaelic, which meant Hester had to concentrate mightily to follow the sense of his words. “I do not want to hurt Spathfoy’s feelings, Fee. His old papa wants to meet you, and that’s your own papa’s father.”

  “Is he as old as Aunt Ariadne?”

  “He’s quite old,” Ian said, letting the inference of impending death hang in the air. “I would hate for him never to meet you, Fee, as bonny as you are.”

  “I’m your favorite niece.” She dimpled at this long-standing joke.

  “You’re Connor’s favorite niece too. He’ll come call on you with your aunt Julia, to be sure.”

  “I miss Uncle Con.”

  “I would be very proud of you, Fiona, if you accepted this invitation. You have aunts at Quinworth, and I’m thinking there might even be a pony or two.”

  Hester silently commended Ian for that.

  “A pony?”

  “Possibly two, though Spathfoy will have to teach you to ride them. You might even find a pet rabbit. An English marquess can surely afford a pet rabbit for his favorite granddaughter.”

  “A rabbit?”

  Hester glanced over to see Spathfoy was studying the rose gardens beyond the terrace. The damned man would be procuring a menagerie for Fiona at the rate Ian was making promises to the child.

  “And I’ll write to you, Fee. We’ll all write to you, and I’m guessing your mama will go directly to Quinworth when she comes back to England.”

  “But that’s why I don’t want to go.” Fiona hopped off his lap. “Mama will think I did not miss her because I went to Grandpapa’s, or maybe she’ll think I’m angry at her.” Fiona had spoken in English and crossed the room to take Spathfoy’s hand. “I don’t want to hurt my mama’s feelings.”

  Spathfoy glanced down at the girl who peered up at him. Hester held her breath, waiting for some imperious pronouncement spoken in clipped, precise tones.

  Instead he went down on his haunches and met the child’s gaze. “Now here’s a difficulty, Niece. I don’t want to hurt your mama’s feelings, either, but I have my papa to deal with. He asked me to fetch you south, and I told him I would.”

  “I can write my grandpapa and tell him you tried very hard. I’ll come visit as soon as Mama says I can.”

  Spathfoy studied her much smaller hand in his. “Your uncle Ian is right, Fiona. Your grandpapa is not a young man. I think he’s looking forward to meeting you very, very much.”

  “Do you have a pony there?”

  “I’m sure we can find a pony for you.”

  “And you’d teach me to ride it?”

  Hester could not watch while Spathfoy reeled the child in—guddled her trust—with the means Ian had handed him.

  “You already know how to ride quite well, if my experience with you on Rowan is any indication, but yes, I will provide what instruction you need.”

  “And a rabbit?”

  Spathfoy bit his lip, probably the first time Hester had seen the man hesitate over a word. “I’m not teaching you how to ride a rabbit, Niece. I’ve no notion how such a thing would be undertaken.”

 
Fiona grinned hugely. “No, Uncle, may I have a rabbit for my pet when I’m at Grandpapa’s?”

  “Yes, you may. Now will you agree to come with me?”

  “I will, but just for a visit.”

  “Fiona, there’s more you need to know.” Hester spoke with admirable calm considering her heart was breaking for the child, for herself, and for the Earl of Balfour as well.

  “What else? Unicorns aren’t real, and I don’t want a lion for a pet because he might eat my rabbit and scare my pony.”

  “He would scare me as well, and likely even your uncle Tye.” Hester sat on the sofa and patted the place beside her. Fiona abandoned her uncle and joined Hester on the sofa.

  “Your uncle is inviting you for a visit, and Uncle Ian thinks it would be nice of you to go. I am worried, though.”

  “I’ll write to you, Aunt Hester, and I’m only going for a visit. You’ll miss me, and then I’ll come back, and you can pummel me at the matching game again. Maybe I’ll pummel my grandpapa while I’m visiting.”

  “I’m anxious,” Hester said, ignoring her own urge to pummel Lord Quinworth and his handsome, silver-tongued, mendacious son. “Your grandpapa might have such a grand time when you go visit him that he won’t let you come back to us when you want to.”

  Fiona’s expression shifted to a thoughtful frown. “Uncle Tye will talk to him, and Mama will come get me.” Her mouth curved into a smile. “Or I can ride my pony all the way home, like Uncle rode Flying Rowan out from Aberdeen.”

  “Fiona has the right of it.” Spathfoy came down on the child’s other side. “If she’s not thriving in Northumbria, I will certainly have a very pointed discussion with my father, perhaps several pointed discussions.” He was silent a moment. “Perhaps many such discussions, and I’m sure Balfour will abet me in this regard.”

  He looked directly at Hester when he spoke, which cast her into some confusion. He was going to deliver the child to Quinworth, then lobby for Fiona’s return to Scotland? Then why take her south in the first place?

  Ian rose from his seat at the desk. “Well, that’s settled, then. Fiona, I’ll be at the train station to see you off tomorrow, and so will your aunt Augusta. I’ll have a letter for you to deliver to your uncle Con, and I want you to pass it directly into his hand. Can you do that for me?”

  She bounced off the sofa. “I can do that, Uncle Ian, but I must go tell Hannibal I’m going on a journey, and the hens will want to know.”

  “Come along then.” He extended a hand toward the child. “You’ll be up half the night packing unless I miss my guess. I don’t suppose you’d like to take your wee cousin with you when you leave?”

  Fiona fell in with Ian’s teasing and left the room in great good spirits.

  Hester let the ensuing silence stretch until she couldn’t bear it any longer. “Did you mean it?”

  Spathfoy was on his feet, staring out the window, his back to Hester where she sat on the sofa. “That I will take my father to task if Fiona’s unhappy? Yes, I meant that, though I will also make every effort to see that Fiona thrives at Quinworth.”

  “I do not understand why you must do this.” She got up to pace, resenting the need for further conversation with him. “You are arrogant, Spathfoy, and you’ve been deceptive, but I don’t read you as cruel or stupid. Why would you do this to a helpless child?”

  “I’m arrogant? Fiona says I’m mean.”

  “You are not mean.”

  He turned to regard her. “I had hoped you would see this as an opportunity for Fiona, Hester, an opportunity she might easily adjust to if you were in the same household.”

  “Do not cozen me, Spathfoy. My guess is you considered having Fiona under your father’s roof an inducement to sweeten the offer of marriage you made me. It matters not. I’m not marrying you, and Fiona is being taken away from her family.”

  “I am her family too, Hester. More so in some regards than you are.”

  “I love her.”

  She’d said as much only a handful of days ago, but he was listening to her now. Hester perceived this in the way he regarded her, steadily and maybe unhappily.

  “Do you suppose I do not love her, Hester? Is that why I and my relations are such a poor choice for the child? Can a child be loved and cared for properly only in Scotland?”

  She didn’t know how to answer that. He looked troubled and tired standing by the window, and very much alone.

  “I wasn’t going to go south with you, you know.”

  “Ah. You were toying with me, then? Striking a blow for beleaguered women everywhere?”

  She didn’t quite believe the mockery in his tone. “I was not. I wasn’t going to refuse you, either. I was going to ask for some time to consider our situation when my head wasn’t so muddled.”

  He nodded, a cautious inclination of his head that gave nothing away.

  “I don’t trust my judgment, Spathfoy. I laughed with you, you see, and this was… oh, why am I bothering to explain when I am so confused in my own thinking?”

  “Go on, by all means. If you’re rejecting a man’s offer—the first such offer I’ve made, by the way—you can at least tell him why.”

  “That is not fair, Tiberius.” He waited until now to tell her he’d never proposed to anyone else? And damn him to Hades, for she believed him. He’d lied about the purpose of his visit, but she believed him about this.

  And about almost everything else, too.

  He shifted away from the window and took the place beside her. “I tried to warn you, if you’ll recall.”

  “You said not to trust you, is that what you mean?”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face and nodded. “Yes, but then I got muddled too, you see. When I set out for Aberdeenshire, I thought I’d be plucking an orphaned child from very humble circumstances and gaining every advantage for her. I’d appease my father, set some other matters to rights, and be back in England within a week.”

  “Are you admitting you’re perpetrating a wrong?” It would put Hester in quite a quandary if he were.

  “I’m admitting I gave my word on a matter without properly researching it, and that as a consequence of my negligence, there are now results contrary to what I intended.”

  He was back to making grand, obfuscatory speeches. “That is not an apology.” Which ought to relieve her, but did not.

  “It is an explanation, also very likely a waste of time in present company.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the cushions, the image of a weary, defeated man. “I am sorry, Hester, for misrepresenting myself in the guise of a guest, and for not clearing up my purpose for being here before I became irrevocably intimate with you.”

  “What do you expect me to say to that, Spathfoy? That I’m sorry as well?”

  “I am sorry I’ve given you cause to doubt your judgment again.” He spoke very softly. “I would do anything to redress that wrong, but, Hester, has it occurred to you we might already have conceived a child?”

  ***

  The list of reasons why Tye could properly label himself an imbecile—and worse—was endless.

  He’d egregiously misjudged Hester’s reaction to having Fiona placed in her grandfather’s care.

  In the alternative, he’d miscalculated Hester’s reaction to not learning of this eventuality sooner and from Tye himself.

  He’d also completely misunderstood Hester’s hesitance in giving him an answer to his proposal. She hadn’t been being coy or manipulative, she’d been… muddled, doubting herself.

  He’d underestimated Balfour’s commitment to the child, and shuddered to think what manner of legal and social havoc was going to result when Clan MacGregor took up the cause of Fiona’s repatriation.

  He’d badly, badly bungled matters when he’d allowed himself the ultimate intimacy with Hester last night, and for that, mere
apologies would not do.

  “If you are carrying my child, I hope you will reconsider my proposal, Hester.”

  “Our child.” She shot to her feet and marched off on a circuit of the room. “How likely is it that I’m with child, Spathfoy? I know very little of these things.”

  “It’s not impossible, not by any means. My mother would have me believe I was conceived on her wedding night.” Despite the wreckage all around him and the travail lying ahead, Tye found this recollection cheering.

  “Merciful Saints. I thought there were things a man did to prevent conception. Jasper assured me I couldn’t get pregnant.”

  Tye did not dignify that with a reply.

  “He was lying, wasn’t he? And those things to prevent conception, we didn’t do them last night, did we?”

  He was not going to give her the Latin now. “I did not do them. I presumed unforgivably on my marital expectations with you.”

  “Are you trying to make me hate you, Spathfoy? Or is that grave tone to make me think you’re sorry?”

  She was growing increasingly agitated, for which he had only himself to blame. “I do not want you to hate me, Hester. If you’re carrying our child, I want you to marry me. I dare not insist that you do, but I can ask if marriage to me would be so terribly objectionable.”

  She stopped her pacing and whirled to face him, hands on her hips. “You’ve betrayed my trust, Spathfoy. I cannot marry you.”

  “Your judgment is not trustworthy when you’re tempted to accept my suit, but it’s faultless now that you’re rejecting me? Do you trust that judgment enough to visit bastardy on a child who might otherwise be heir to a marquessate?”

  She was once again his personal tempest, ire and indignation radiating from her posture, from her eyes, and her words. “I almost can hate you when you’re like this, Tiberius, all cold reason and precise diction. Do not threaten me with ruin. Thanks to my previous bad judgments, I’m already ruined. I did not permit you into my bed, I welcomed you there. I’ll bear the consequences of that folly on my own, thank you very much.”