A Borrowed Scot (7 page)

“You love her very much, don’t you?”

He remained still, not from fascination or interest but because he knew that if he moved, it would be to silence her. He’d reach across the seat and place his hand over her mouth to keep her from speaking.

Abruptly, she opened her eyes, her face going pale.

“She’s dead, isn’t she? That’s why you’re in so much pain.”

If he could have left the carriage, he would have. Instead, he fixed a look on his bride that she evidently understood because she suddenly went mute.

Soon, they were at his house. When his driver opened the carriage door, Montgomery ignored all the rules of etiquette by leaving the carriage and striding to the front door, unknowing and uncaring how his wife was welcomed to his home.

She followed him into his library.

“I’m sorry I’m not her,” she said, continuing their conversation as if he hadn’t walked away.

He turned slowly to face her, attempting to regain his composure.

Alisdair and James would be howling with laughter to see what Fate had done. He was married to a woman dottier than Aunt Maddie.

He leaned over, reached for the bell on the corner of his desk, and rang it twice.

“Mrs. Gardiner will show you your room,” he said. “Please tell her if you need anything.”

“Am I being dismissed?” she asked.

“If I could dismiss you, Veronica, I would. However, I’m afraid that you and I are linked by law.”

“Thank you for marrying me,” she said, startling him. “Thank you for being a gentleman, and in some ways, a knight. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Montgomery. If I did, I’m sorry. I can’t help what I feel. It just comes to me.”

“You have no control over it, I suppose?”

She shook her head.

“In that, you and I are different. I have control over my life. I don’t have to suffer your company.”

She flinched as if he’d struck her.

“Feel anything you want about me. I just don’t want to hear what you feel or what you think.”

“From now until the day we die, Montgomery?”

“I’m not as privileged as you, Veronica. I do not pretend to be able to view the future.”

“I don’t see the future. I never said I did.”

He inclined his head. “That’s right, you don’t see the future. You can only read someone’s heart. You can only feel what he’s feeling.”

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “At the moment, you’re wishing you’d never seen me,” she added, her voice so faint he almost leaned forward to hear her. “That you’d allowed me to be raped or that you’d simply walked away.”

Then his surprising wife turned and left him staring after her.

“I
t was a lovely ceremony, Mother,” Amanda said, helping her mother count the silver.

“I’m afraid it was a very hole-and-corner affair, my dear. Given the circumstances, it was as well done as it could have been.” She straightened, slapped her hands together as if to rid herself of the problem of her niece, and smiled at her oldest daughter.

“You can rest assured, my dear, that when your wedding comes along, it shall be a grand and illustrious event.”

Amanda smiled. “Veronica will be pleased to live in Scotland again,” she said.

Her mother shivered. “Such a barbaric country. I find it difficult to believe that our poor dear Queen has loved it all these years.”

“I think we should plan to visit them.”

Her mother looked at her with some surprise. “You have never expressed an interest in travel before now, Amanda.”

“She is family, Mother.”

Her mother nodded, as if giving the idea of travel to Scotland some serious thought. “If it’s good enough for the Queen,” she said, “then it’s good enough for us.” She smiled. “I shall speak with your father about it. We should, if nothing else, ensure that Veronica is living well in Scotland. After all, we’re the only family she has left.”

“Except for her new husband,” Amanda said. “A very interesting man.”

“A Lord, for all that it’s a Scottish title,” the countess said.

“Even so, Montgomery is a handsome man,” Amanda said. “How very like our sly little Veronica to have escaped scandal with such a catch.”

“Had it not been for you, Amanda, we should never have known.”

The fondness of her mother’s smile was indication enough she’d pleased her parents.

Yet in telling her parents about Veronica’s shocking actions, Amanda had cut off a potential source of funds. She could become quite cross about the entire situation. Veronica had married and left the household. However, her dear cousin had married a wealthy man.

There must be some way to make that work to her advantage.

Chapter 8

V
eronica was served her wedding dinner in a small dining room, the meal punctuated by a solicitous Mrs. Gardiner, who insisted upon coming back into the room every few minutes.

“Is there anything I can get for you, Lady Fairfax?” she asked again.

Since it was the third time Mrs. Gardiner asked, Veronica realized the housekeeper was not as intent on being of assistance as she was offering her sympathy.

“Everything is wonderful,” she said, forcing a smile to her face. “Thank you for your kindness,” she added, finding it odd to be an object of pity on her wedding night.

Mrs. Gardiner nodded, leaving the room after several backward glances. No doubt the poor woman wanted to make some explanation for Montgomery’s absence but was constrained by loyalty.

Her new husband was nowhere in sight. Nor had he sent word to her as to his whereabouts or intentions.

After the endless meal, she retreated to the room she’d been given, to be greeted by Mrs. Gardiner and a young girl pulled from kitchen duties to act as a lady’s maid.

“I truly don’t need any assistance,” she told the housekeeper. “I’ve never had my own maid, you see.”

“Yes, Your Ladyship, but you’re married, now.”

She didn’t know what part of that comment was more disturbing, the fact she had just noticed that Mrs. Gardiner had been calling her by her new title or that the housekeeper believed her life had changed.

True, marriage had altered her status from poor relation to rich wife. She was Lady Fairfax, whereas she’d been simply Miss MacLeod a day ago. Montgomery, however, didn’t believe in her Gift, which was not an appreciable change in her life. No one had except her parents.

She was as lonely as she’d been for two years.

With the maid’s help, she dressed in the present from Aunt Lilly and her cousins, a lovely peignoir of lemon-colored silk that had been in Anne’s trousseau. After the girl left, she brushed her hair until it curled around her shoulders, studying her reflection in the mirror and noting the flush on her cheeks.

Would a man consider her beautiful? Would Montgomery? Or would he even see her as she was, avoiding the wedding night as he’d avoided her for the whole of the day?

She was a bride without a bridegroom. A bride, deserted shortly after the ceremony. A bride, left in no doubt of her new husband’s antipathy for her.

One thing her marriage had brought her, however, was the freedom of her emotions. She was growing angrier by the moment.

Was she supposed to sit meekly in her room and wait for her husband? Then welcome him into her bed? She’d perform her duty, but she wasn’t going to like it.

Or him.

Let him mourn the woman he loved.

I don’t love you.

She didn’t love him, either.

Was it too much to wish for love? Was it too foolish to wish that someone watched the door in anticipation of her arrival? Or listened to his watch to ensure that time, itself, hadn’t caused her delay? Or to have someone stand at the bottom of the steps looking up, his hand on the banister, his eyes lighting up because he’d just seen her?

Was it so terrible to want something so simple, so fragile?

Montgomery’s eyes wouldn’t light up when she entered a room because he hadn’t chosen her. Of all the women in the world, he’d not singled her out to share his life. He’d no choice in the matter.

Neither had she.

She clenched her fists, then forced herself to relax her hands. The bubble of anger wouldn’t subside. However much she told herself that resentment had no practical purpose, she felt it, nonetheless.

Was she simply to be a leaf blown by a strong wind? Always acquiescing to everyone’s plans for her? She’d been a dutiful daughter. However, it had been more difficult to be a dutiful niece, a companionable cousin. As the months passed, as one year faded into another, she’d found it more and more difficult to remain silent and agreeable.

Now, she was supposed to be a dutiful wife, submitting to her fate, silent when her husband abandoned her not an hour after their wedding.

Her marriage wasn’t going to change her life at all.

Yet in Montgomery’s enchanted mirror, she’d not been lonely. She’d had a family. She’d felt joy for that second, been surrounded by people who loved her.

How much had she really seen? Or had she imagined it all?

She could look again.

For the first time since she’d left Montgomery’s library, her spirit lightened. The mirror was somewhere in the house. Unless, of course, he’d returned it to its rightful owner. Yet Montgomery said he didn’t know to whom it belonged.

She glanced at the mantel clock. Where was he? Had Montgomery left for an evening of carousing? She should have taken advantage of Mrs. Gardiner’s solicitousness and inquired as to her husband’s whereabouts. She’d been too embarrassed, too ashamed to ask.

Removing her wrapper, she replaced it with her worn but sturdier robe, belted it tightly, and left the room, heading for the third floor.

Mrs. Gardiner urged her into her room, after looking both ways down the hall as if afraid the other servants would discover her on the third floor.

“Your Ladyship,” the housekeeper said, wrapping herself in a thick plaid robe, “how may I be of service?”

Once in the room, Veronica didn’t quite know how to ask.

“I’m looking for a mirror,” Veronica said.

Mrs. Gardiner’s lined face furrowed even more. “Is there not a mirror in your chamber?”

“A mirror with diamonds around the edge of the glass,” she said. “And writing across the back. I think it’s Latin.”

The housekeeper’s face smoothed with her smile. “The Scryer’s Mirror,” she said. “You know about the Scryer’s Mirror?” She studied Veronica for a moment. “Was it a bride’s gift, Your Ladyship?”

Lying was wrong. Standing there in the housekeeper’s room was, no doubt, wrong in another way. So was being abandoned by her husband.

Veronica smiled. “Do you know where it is?” Not quite a lie, but definitely not the truth.

“I do,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “Shall I bring it to you, Your Ladyship?”

“I don’t want to trouble you, Mrs. Gardiner. If you’ll tell me where it is, I’ll fetch it myself.”

For a moment she thought the housekeeper wouldn’t agree. A hand went to a curl neatly tied in a strip of white cloth. Evidently, Mrs. Gardiner was not too old for a little vanity. She obviously didn’t want to be seen outside her room prepared for sleep.

“You’ve been so kind to me, Mrs. Gardiner,” she said sincerely. “I truly don’t mind.”

The housekeeper studied her for a moment, a look reminiscent of that very room two nights ago, and how Mrs. Gardiner had sat propped up in bed watching her until she’d fallen asleep. She’d taken her duty seriously and evidently her loyalty as well.

Except Veronica was no longer just some girl to be watched. She was Lady Fairfax.

“It’s in His Lordship’s library,” the housekeeper said. “In the credenza. The third door. I placed it there myself.”

Before leaving Mrs. Gardiner, Veronica folded her hands together tightly, and asked, “Did you see anything in the mirror, Mrs. Gardiner?”

The housekeeper wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“I’m a godly woman, Your Ladyship.”

She nodded.

“Do you think the mirror is magic? Is that why you called it a scryer’s mirror?”

“Some say that magic is not the Lord’s province. It’s the Devil’s.”

Veronica didn’t comment.

“Still, it was a pretty sight I saw. All my nieces and nephews surrounding me, singing.” The housekeeper finally looked at her. “How can something so lovely be evil?”

She didn’t comment, merely thanked the older woman, and made her way back down the stairs.

On the third floor, the staircase was not as ornate, the balusters more simply carved. As she descended to the first floor, however, the carving became more elaborate, the banister mahogany instead of simple pine.

The steps curved at the landing instead of being squared, and as she reached the well-polished wooden floor, the soft glow of an oil lamp on the table beside the front door illuminated her way.

She’d extinguish the lamp on her way back to her room.

The beeswax and lemon polish used to buff the fine mahogany furniture mixed with the sandalwood from the potpourri pots, no doubt placed in strategic locations to offset the odor of the oil lamps.

Light pooled around the hallway table but not enough to illuminate the library. She stood at the doorway, staring into the room. Shadows enveloped the corners, draped over the desk and chairs.

She entered the room and lit the oil lamp on the corner of the desk. The wick caught flame, the glow expanding beyond the glass globe. For a moment, she watched it to ensure it was burning correctly, then looked around her as she’d not had the opportunity to do earlier.

Turning, she faced Montgomery’s desk. A leather-bound blotter sat in the middle of the desk, a pen case slightly to the right. A crystal inkwell rested an inch beyond the blotter. A small, japanned box rested on the left corner of the desk beside a bell.

What kind of work did Montgomery do when he sat there? Did he write letters home? In his next letter, would he mention her? Or would he keep their sudden marriage a secret from those he loved?

She wished she knew more about the man she’d married. Where was he? Or was that even a question she should ask?

Aunt Lilly had always been solicitous of Uncle Bertrand, but she’d never heard her aunt question her husband. If her uncle volunteered information, Aunt Lilly was content enough. Not once had she ever said to him, at least within Veronica’s hearing, “What will you be doing today, my dear?” Or, “With whom will you be meeting? Have you any plans?”

At the same time, her aunt was careful to ensure that her husband approved all her outings, including those involving the girls.

Her parents’ relationship had been different. Each morning, they’d discussed their plans for the day. Her mother had neither sought approval for her actions, nor had her father granted it.

How did she create a marriage like that, especially when she knew so little about the man she’d married?

She pushed thoughts of her new husband aside for another task, that of locating the mirror.

A series of bookshelves occupied the far wall, filled with leather-bound books. On the wall beneath the windows sat a long credenza.

The third cabinet, Mrs. Gardiner had said. The light from the lamp didn’t extend to the corner, so she was forced to bend down to peer inside but could see nothing. She knelt and stretched out her arm to reach into the back of the credenza. Her fingers felt fabric and she pulled it out. Sitting back on her heels, she opened the heavy drawstring bag and withdrew the mirror.

She laid the mirror facedown, stroking her fingers over the cool surface of the gold. One by one, her fingers measured each diamond positioned around the edge.

Perhaps it would be wiser not to look into the mirror again. What if she’d been wrong? Mrs. Gardiner had seen something, however, so her vision couldn’t be an aberration.

Slowly, she raised the mirror, pressing the glass against her chest, holding it there, before bowing her head and saying a short but earnest prayer.

Please, let me see something. Something hopeful.

Would God decree her a sinner if she wanted to see something better than the life she was living now? Was it wrong to want to be happy instead of lonely?

The lamp sputtered. Perhaps that was an answer.

She looked into the mirror. The glass was brown, flecked with spots, indicating its age. When nothing happened, disappointment surged through her. She was in the process of lowering the mirror when the color lightened. Hands trembling, she gripped the handle of the mirror and raised it so she was staring directly into her reflection.

She was surrounded by people, their faces too blurry to recognize. Her own face was clear enough, her expression filled with such joy and animation, she stared at herself in wonder. She was laughing, the image so real she could almost feel joy bubbling up in the middle of her chest.

“Another example of your intellectual inquiry?” a voice asked from behind her.

Startled, she pressed the mirror against her chest and glanced over her shoulder at Montgomery. He was standing in the doorway, leaning back against the frame, his arms folded over his chest. His hair looked tousled as if the wind had played with it. Raindrops glittered on his shoulders, dampened his clothing.

He glanced at the lamp she’d lit.

“At least you didn’t attempt to hide your activity, Veronica. Perhaps that’s a credit to your favor. Theft, however, is not.”

“I wasn’t stealing it,” she said. “I was just looking.”

She slipped the mirror back into the drawstring bag and replaced it in the credenza before standing. His gaze dropped. Her robe had come open, revealing the silk of her nightgown.

“You’ve seen me naked before,” she said.

“The last time I saw you naked, you looked rather pitiable. You don’t now.”

Oh.

She pressed her lips together, then forced herself to relax. Her heart, however, was beating so quickly she felt breathless with it. She stared at the carpet before, annoyed at her cowardice, she forced herself to look at him.

“Were you outside?”

“I felt the need to take some air,” he said. An excuse so like the one she’d devised a few nights ago that she smiled.

“Do I amuse you, Veronica?”

He had a way of looking at her intently, as if he wished to peer behind her eyes to see the soul of her.

Perhaps it was the intensity of his look or her irritation at his desertion that sparked her answer. Instead of demurring, instead of saying something polite and noncommittal, or instead of simply excusing herself and leaving the room, she gave him the truth.

“No,” she said. “No, Montgomery, you fascinate me. You confuse me. You worry me. However, I wouldn’t say the emotion I feel in your presence is amusement.”

She stored away his startled look to enjoy at another time.

“Go to bed, Veronica,” he said, stepping out of the doorway so she could pass. “Now.”