In the Highlander's Bed (26 page)

He took her hand. “Something that will be very hard,” he answered. “The family has talked, and for all his faults, my brother’s suggestions make sense. Even my wife agrees.”

“Suggestions of what sort?”

The humor left his eyes. In its place was compassion. He knew she wasn’t going to like what he was about to say. She curled the fingers of her free hand in the bed sheets. “Go ahead. Tell me,” she said, surprised at how calm her voice sounded.

Page 135

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“They are going to suggest a marriage.”

She noticed his use ofthey. “You disagree?”

“No, I agree, even if there is not a child. You don’t understand how devastating rumors can be. I hear whispers in my trail wherever I go. It’s not easy for my wife, but our love is strong and we have each other.”

“Whereas I have no one,” she surmised. “And you would want me to marry for what reason? To squelch rumors. It seems a shallow course.”

“Marriages have been made for much less. And I would want a man who can protect you and your child.”

Constance shook her head. “Who would have me? Who would want another man’s child?”

“You are looking at this the wrong way,” the duke said. “You should consider that any man would be lucky to have you.”

“And the child?”

“Yes, him too. Only, time is of the essence, Constance. The man must think the child is his own. You can never let him know the truth.”

His suggestion shocked her. “But that is a lie.”

“No, it’s survival. It’s the only way that child will stand a chance at living a good life.”

“What of the child? Is he never to know his true father’s name?”

“In time, perhaps. If and when you deem it right.”

Constance raised her hands, pressing the heels to her temples as if to shut out such a decision.

The duke stood. “I’ve said enough.” He walked to the door. “Think on it, Constance. It’s your decision to make. I’ll support you whichever way you choose. However,” he said, “I want Lachlan’s son raised well. The blood of Scottish aristocracy will flow in his veins.”

“But my child won’t know if I don’t tell him. He’ll never know his true father’s name. It will be lost to him,” she said softly.

“Yes,” His Grace agreed. “However, no door will be closed to him. He’ll not be a bastard…unless that is what you want for him. And someday we may be able to tell him. When that time comes, we’ll be certain he knows what a fine, noble man his father was.”

He turned the door handle. “I’ll have another tray sent up with more broth and perhaps something of more substance. You’ve been dealt a blow, lass, but if you truly cared for Lachlan, you’ll do what you must to see his bairn safe. Think on it. In your heart you will know what to do.” He left.

The room suddenly seemed very cold and empty. Constance reached for the tartan she’d kept close at hand and put it around her shoulders.A baby. A bairn, she amended.

Page 136

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

For a second she was filled with joy.

And then overwhelmed by doubts. A part of her wanted to believe she’d imagined their whole conversation.

He’d suggested an arranged marriage.

She didn’t have the courage.

Getting out of bed, Constance walked across the room to the window. It overlooked a garden in the back of the house. She rested her head against cold, hard glass, staring out at the twilight. Gordon couldn’t be dead. She was certain she would know if he was.

Or was it that she missed him so much, she wanted to believe he lived? If there was any hope at all, shouldn’t she embrace it? Or was she denying cold, hard reality?

Her answer was to break down in tears. Sobs wracked her body until she doubled over.

She didn’t try and fight them. She didn’t fight tears anymore. Gordon had taught her how to cry.

The door to the bedroom flew open and in seconds both Charlotte and Miranda threw their arms around her.

This time Constance didn’t push them away.

This time she held them close, at last, letting them share her grief.

Eighteen

In surprisingly short order, Phillip found someone for Constance to marry.

“He’s aduke ,” Charlotte informed Constance, barely able to suppress her excitement. She’d just returned from being out with her husband and hadn’t even bothered to remove her hat and gloves before finding Constance in the Morning Room. She, Miranda, and Francesca, the Duchess of Colster, had just finished having luncheon.

It’d been a week since Justin—which was how she thought of the duke now—had his talk with her. Her sisters’ suspicions were bearing weight. She’d still not had her monthly fluxes, although there was still time…or so she kept telling herself. The possibility that she might be carrying Gordon’s child had forced her to find the will to live again.

That didn’t mean she was eager to marry. She was still in deep mourning.

Charlotte threw herself into the chair next to Constance’s and gave her shoulders a happy squeeze. “Is this not wonderful? We came to England with the intention of one of us marrying a duke and nowyou are going to do so.”

Constance couldn’t muster the same enthusiasm. “Marrying a duke was your dream, not mine.”

“Is it too soon to marry?” Francesca wondered.

Page 137

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

A frown line formed between Charlotte’s brows. “If she’d been a married woman, there would be a mourning period, but right now we are in a bit of a rush.”

“I understand that,” Francesca said. She looked pointedly at Constance, who pretended not to notice while she put jam on her roll. “But is it too soon for her?”

Constance gave Francesca a small smile, appreciating her concern. “The baby must be protected.” That sentiment was all that kept her going right now. “In the wilderness, women often marry quickly just as a matter of survival.”

“What’s wrong with this duke?” Miranda asked, her skepticism clear as she brought the topic back to the matter at hand.

“Wrong?” Charlotte repeated as if unable to believe they weren’t as excited as she was.

“Yes,” Miranda said. “He’s aduke . A duke can marry anyone. No one has to arrange marriages for dukes.”

“As a matter of fact,” Francesca said, “it’s done all the time. Depending on the magnitude of the title and the amount of estate involved, well, they usually are the ones whomust have arranged marriages. My father wanted to arrange mine. But then,” she added with a secret smile, “I married a duke.”

“See?” Charlotte said triumphantly. “This is agood thing.”

“I mean no offense to you, Constance,” Miranda said, “or to you, Charlotte, but why would this duke want to marry my sister?”

“The money,” Charlotte said, as if it were obvious. She began pulling off her gloves, nodding to a footman for a cup of tea as she made ready to join them. “With the amount our husbands have settled on her, Constance is quite the catch. If we were to present her for a Season, the men would be lined up out the door.”

Of course, they weren’t going to give her a Season, Constance thought. There wasn’t time to waste.

Then again, she didn’t want one. She’dnever wanted one. Toying with the spoon on the tablecloth in front of her, she studied the play of sunlight from the window off the silver. It reminded her of that fateful morning when Gordon had held the Sword of the MacKenna high in the air.

“Who is the duke?” Francesca asked.

“Holburn,” Charlotte said. “Do you know—”

Her voice broke off as Francesca dropped the teacup she’d been lifting to her lips. Tea spilled all over the tablecloth—but Francesca ignored it. “Shemustn’t marry Holburn.”

“Why not?” Charlotte asked, reaching over to blot up the tea with her napkin. A footman hurried to help, but Francesca dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “That’s all we need, Peter. Please, give us a moment alone.” She waited until the servant had withdrawn before leaning across the table so she wouldn’t have to raise her voice above a whisper. “Dominic Lynsted, the Duke of Holburn, is dissolute.

He’s a drunkard, a gambler, a duelist—” Words appeared to fail her. She shook her head. “Nofamily wants their daughter to marry him, although I’d never heard he was looking for marriage. He’s not the
Page 138

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

sort.”

Charlotte’s brow furrowed in concern. “Phillip wouldn’t offer my sister to such a man.”

“Yes, I would,” her husband said from the doorway. He walked into the room, followed by Justin. “I didn’t have a chance to finish the complete story about the offer before my loving wife hurried to tell you all.”

Phillip sat at the table. Justin stood to his right. He didn’t appear pleased, but let his twin say his piece.

“Holburn’s mother came to me with the offer. Said she’d heard I’d made a discreet inquiry. Francesca is right. Holburn is the worst sort of being. He drinks to excess, is blazing through the family fortunes with his gambling, and is known for all the worst vices. His uncles fear he shall ruin the family, but any attempts to rein him in have failed. The man is nine and twenty and as wild as any callow youth.”

“And I should marry him because…” Constance wondered.

“Because his mother wants an heir and won’t raise a question,” Phillip answered. “Considering the number of duels Holburn has fought over other men’s wives, it appears sooner or later he will be shot.

The man is notorious. He can’t keep his pants on. He’s had amazing luck to date but someday it will run out. If he dies without an heir, his mother will be given an allowance and, knowing Holburn’s uncles, a very strict one at best.”

“I’ve met Daisy Lynsted, the dowager duchess of Holburn,” Francesca said. “She’s a silly, indulgent woman with a streak of avarice. The gossips have speculated for some time now which one of them, Holburn or his mother, will ruin the family financially.”

Phillip turned to Constance before saying quietly, “Francesca’s description is an apt one. She won’t be the most pleasant of relatives. However, she claims she has convinced Holburn to marry.”

“He doesn’t sound like a man who could be easily led,” Constance said.

“True,” Phillip agreed.

“And what will Constance be saddled with?” Miranda asked. “The man sounds terrible.”

Phillip shrugged. “Holburn is likable in his way.”

“Not to a woman,” Francesca countered.

“On the contrary, many women adore him,” Phillip answered.

“Not decent ones” was Francesca’s terse reply.

“In his defense,” Phillip said, “he does show up in the House of Lords from time to time. Usually to avoid his mistresses or to sleep off whatever excesses he’s practiced the night before,” he conceded to Francesca, “but I’ve heard him speak on occasion. He has a good head.”

Constance wrinkled her nose. She looked to Justin. “What do you think of this offer?” She wished Alex was here, but he was down in the shipyards and wouldn’t be home until later.

Page 139

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

The duke shifted his weight. “It’s difficult to say. I don’t know the man. The best you can hope for is to be a young widow.”

“But a titled one,” Phillip reminded her. “That title comes with great privilege.”

“The first being protection for your child,” Charlotte said.

Constance nodded. In the distance she could hear the servants moving about, making preparations for dinner and their own lives.

Her sisters had their own lives, too. They loved their husbands and were well loved in return. She longed for what they had—

No, that wasn’t true.She wanted Gordon back . She could not imagine herself with any other man.

“I don’t feel right,” she murmured, “passing Gordon’s child off on another.”

Miranda gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze. Even Phillip appeared understanding. “It’s done more often than you can imagine,” he said.

“Then what difference does it make whom I marry?” Constance answered, trying to be brave. “Maybe as a duchess, London won’t frighten me so much.”

“Frighten you?” Charlotte asked, as if unable to comprehend such an idea.

“Yes, frighten,” Constance said. “It’s full of rules and manners and intrigue. There’s more gossip here than in the valley. But also, the city itself is confusing. It’s too loud, too ugly, too smelly.”

“It’s not like home, is it?” Miranda agreed.

“No,” Constance agreed softly.

Tears welled in Charlotte’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It’s my fault we are all here. I pushed us into it. I truly thought it best.”

Alarmed, Constance moved to put her arms around her oldest sister. “You never cry,” she said. “You are always the strong one for us. Please, I’m not sorry we came. I was meant to meet Gordon. How could I have done that in the valley?”

“Right now, I’m not too pleased with him,” Charlotte confessed. “He’s left you with a terrible dilemma.”

“No,” Constance quickly answered. “I want this baby. And I want him to grow up with every advantage. He’ll need it. Perhaps someday he will take up the Cause and succeed for his father.”

And she would have a name for her child. She’d not let Gordon’s son be called a bastard.

“I’m not averse to meeting Holburn,” she said quietly.

Charlotte let out an audible sigh of relief. Miranda covered Constance’s hand with her own. “Are you certain?” she asked. “Please, we’ll all stand beside you, whatever you wish.”

Page 140

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“You are my little sister,” Charlotte said. “We’ve always been there for each other.” She took Constance’s other hand. For a moment, with Miranda on her right and Charlotte on her left, Constance could place herself back on that fateful night when the three of them had hidden from the Shawnee. She’d been no more than three, with a sister on each side, holding her hand, asking that she trust them.