Once Upon a Highland Summer (33 page)

Caroline looked at her half brother. His wide face was red and beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. “What does this mean?” she asked Mr. Rice.

Somerson tossed the paper aside. “It means nothing! I am her guardian. I control her money, which she has now insisted she wishes to renounce so she might be independent. She has willingly offered to sever her ties to her family, and I have agreed.”

Caroline picked up the will and scanned the neatly written provisions.

“There is a clause in the will which states that if Lady Caroline is not married by the age of twenty-three, which she is today, then she will assume control of all the moneys that have been placed in trust for her.”

Caroline read the words, her eyes widening at the amount of money she was about to inherit. “What if I had wed before today?” she asked.

“Then His Lordship would have negotiated the payment of your dowry to your husband, of course. The rest of the money would have remained in your name.”

Somerson got up and paced to the window. “How is this even possible? Marjorie Kirk was a penniless baronet’s daughter when she tricked my father into marrying her. This is my father’s money, and therefore mine, and I intend to contest the will. Where would she have gotten this kind of money unless she stole it from his estate?”

Mr. Rice patiently drew out another document. “It was a wedding present, my lord, a trust set up by the Dowager Countess of Somerson for the new countess.”

Somerson turned and stormed back to the table. “
My mother?
My mother was dead!”

“I meant your grandmother, my lord, Countess
Georgiana
Somerson.”

Somerson’s brows crumpled inward in confusion. His face seemed to fold around the hard pinch of his lips. “My
grandmother
?” he hissed.

“Indeed. Put in trust. The funds were for any children of the union between your father and Lady Marjorie, since you would inherit the entirety of the Earl of Somerson’s titles, estates, and fortune.”

“As is proper. It is the law, and everything was entailed to the estate!”

“This letter was given to me to hold in trust until such time as Lady Caroline either married or celebrated her twenty-third birthday.” He handed Caroline a yellowed envelope, sealed with red wax.

Somerson snatched it from her hand before she could open it.

Caroline was tempted to snatch it back, but she turned to Mr. Rice instead. “Then I have money, quite separate from my dowry, which is also mine as of today, and Somerson is no longer my guardian?”

Mr. Rice nodded. “There is a small property as well.”

“She’ll own land? Somerson land?” Somerson spluttered.

“The estate in question is a small house left to Countess Georgiana by an uncle, Lord Howden. It’s here in Scotland, and not part of any of the Somerson holdings.”

“Lullach Grange,” Caroline whispered.

“Why yes, do you know it?” Mr. Rice asked.

“Yes, I know it,” she said.

“Are you truly saying that my half sister—my ward—is now independently wealthy, and may live as she chooses?” Somerson demanded. “I never have to see her again, or pay her a penny?”

Mr. Rice shook his head. “Even if she renounces her ties to you, my lord, the money is rightfully Lady Caroline’s. Lady Georgiana insisted on investing the money, of course, and the funds now total nearly fifty thousand pounds. Of course her dowry must also be turned over to Lady Caroline. It would not of course be a dowry, but her legacy, at this point.” He looked at the records in front of him. “Twenty-five thousand pounds.”

Caroline stared at Somerson.“You told me my dowry was eight thousand pounds!”

He raised his chin. “It seemed enough. Both Mandeville and Speed were willing to take that amount.”

She shut her eyes. “They were the lowest bidders, weren’t they?”

Her half brother sneered. “Indeed they were. Who else would want you at your age? You will draft the letter for Caroline to sign, refusing the terms of the legacy,” he commanded, but Mr. Rice merely smiled.

“I’m afraid that’s up to Lady Caroline now.” He got out a fresh sheet of paper and dipped his pen in ink and waited. “How may I be of service to you, my lady?”

“Y
ou inherited Lullach Grange?” Angus asked Georgiana. “It’s on Glenlorne land!”

“I’ll have you know my uncle purchased the house and the garden from your father fairly, Angus MacNabb. He had no wish to cheat anyone.”

“You didna say you owned it. What if I’d torn it down, or Caroline had never come here?”

“I had no way to know, though I hoped she would.”

“You woke me from my grave for nothing, to relive all the heartache over again?”

“I was alive when I made my will, Angus. I had no hope I would ever see you again, on either side of the grave. I only knew that summer we had here was the happiest time of my life. Was I wrong to want, to hope, that my granddaughter might know the joy that I did, perhaps live her whole life here, in love? I had no choices, Angus. None. I wanted to make sure Caroline had a choice.”

“She has enough money to wed Alec now,” Angus enthused. “Everything has worked out the way you planned it.”

“Alec is still betrothed to Sophie,” Georgiana reminded him sadly. “If they had no honor, no love for this place and the people who are important to them, then yes, they could wed. It wasn’t about Caroline’s money. Now, it isn’t even about love. They have that aplenty. We simply didn’t count on honor, Angus, and duty.”

“Duty be damned! Does love never triumph? What will Caroline do now?”

“I suppose that remains to be seen. She has choices to make. We cannot choose for her, or we are without honor as well.”

“Then we’ve failed?” Angus said. “All this was for naught?”

“The curse will continue,” Georgiana agreed softly. “Unless they find a way to break it themselves, and I fear it may be too late for that, Angus.”

C
HAPTER
F
ORTY
-
S
EVEN

“S
hall we raise a glass to the lovely brides?” Mr. Parfitt said as everyone gathered before dinner the night before the double ceremony was to take place.

“I wish to say something first,” Lottie said. Alec held his breath, waiting for a tearfully romantic speech from a dewy-eyed bride, though Lottie looked remarkably clear-eyed this evening, especially when she began struggling to remove the betrothal ring from her gloved hand.

“William, I have changed my mind.”

Sophie gasped in horror. Caroline stood silently, watching her niece. William Mears turned red from his chin to the tips of his ears.

Countess Charlotte frowned. “Don’t tell me you wish to wed in London or at Somerson Park after all, Lottie!”

“Actually, Mama, I don’t wish to marry at all. Well, at least I don’t wish to marry William.”

Charlotte’s scream, mixed with Somerson’s deeper bellow of rage, brought Muira, Jock, and Leith running from the kitchen, where they had apparently grabbed anything useful as a weapon on their way. Muira brandished a lethal toasting fork, Jock had a rolling pin, and wild-eyed Leith bore a pie, ready to throw it. He arrived just in time to soften the fall as Countess Charlotte fainted, and fell on him. The pie hit the floor and shatter, which made Muira screech.

“Here,” Lottie said. She handed her ring to William, who stood looking politely stunned, staring at it. Then she reached into her pocket and took out the smelling salts obviously ready for the countess’s reaction. “I thought we’d be needing these.” Lottie bent over Charlotte’s supine figure and waved the vial under the countess’s nose, then waved them under Leith’s, who was still trapped beneath her. William stood dumbly staring at the ring in the palm of his hand.

The first person Charlotte saw when she woke was Caroline, and she screamed again, and began to cry loud, noisy tears.

“I’m drowning,” Leith said from beneath her vast frame. Mr. Parfitt muttered prayers as he tugged on the countess’s arm, trying to raise her.

“This is all your fault! You encouraged her to do this!” Charlotte warbled, shooting hatred and blame at Caroline.

“No, Mama, it had nothing at all to do with Caroline. I just decided that marrying William was not what I wanted to do.”

“What do you want to do? Are you aware of the scandal this will cause? Mears is a perfectly decent man,” Somerson said. “Is there someone else?”

Lottie sucked her cheek. “Well, there’s George, as in my brother George. You see, I want an adventure. I intend to go with George when he leaves on his Grand Tour.”

Charlotte shrieked again, and Leith groaned, his legs thrashing beneath the countess as he struggled for escape. Alec took pity on him and helped Mr. Parfitt and Jock to lift the stricken countess and help her to a chair. “I won’t allow it!” the countess protested. “Nor will your father.”

Lottie hardly looked deterred. “Caroline is coming with me, and my maid, and George and his tutor and valet. It will be perfectly proper. Besides, if there’s to be a scandal over my broken betrothal, wouldn’t it be better if I went away for a while? I have no intention of retiring to lurk in the shadows at Somerson Park.”

Alec looked at Caroline in surprise. She met his eyes for only a moment before looking away, her cheeks flushing.

“Europe!” Megan said. “How wonderful. May I go along?”

“I won’t wait for you,” William said. He was sitting on the settee, with the ring still in his outstretched palm. Sophie was by his side, patting his arm supportively, glaring at Lottie balefully.

“I don’t expect you to,” Lottie said, and gave him a sad smile. “I do wish you every happiness William, I truly do—just not with me.”

Alec glanced again at Caroline, but she had slipped out of the room.

“When will you leave?” Sophie asked Lottie.

“Tomorrow,” Lottie replied. “An early start.”

“Right after the wedding then?” Sophie asked.

“Um, right before, rather.”

Alec felt his stomach turn to iron. Caroline was leaving first thing in the morning, walking away,
running
away. He wondered if she meant to say good-bye, or if he’d just wake up tomorrow to find her gone.

“Neville, we’re leaving too, since there is no point in staying a moment longer,” Charlotte said. “Order the horses harnessed and have everything packed at once.”

“What about supper?” Muira asked.

William shook his head. “I’m not hungry.”

“Then neither am I,” Sophie said.

“I have packing to do,” Lottie said.

Charlotte regarded the ruins of the pie on the floor, the berries and pastry squashed and scattered like a broken heart. “Perhaps you could send a tray to my room, and I will eat while my maid packs. See to it at once.”

A
lec didn’t bother to knock when he reached Caroline’s room. He simply threw open the door and strode in, letting the panel crash into the wall with a bang. She was sitting at the desk, pen in hand, and she looked at him with her eyes wide, half rising. There were tears in her eyes, but he ignored that.

“Did you intend to say good-bye? Oh, not to me, of course, but what about the girls, and Muira, the children in the village? How long have you known you were leaving tomorrow?”

Another blush filled her cheeks. “I was writing you a letter,” she murmured.

“Your resignation?” She nodded her head. “Isn’t that the coward’s way out? Do you have a letter for Sophie as well? She at least deserves better. She has no family here, no one at all but you and Lottie—”

“She has you!” Caroline said fiercely, sorrow turning to anger. He read jealousy in her hazel eyes, pain. He felt the same pain stab him.

“Aye, she does,” he said.

“Here, you might as well have this now,” she said, crossing the room in short, sharp steps to hold out a piece of paper. He took it and glanced at it.

“I don’t understand,” he said, feeling heat rising under his collar. “What the devil does this mean?”

“It’s the deed to Lullach Grange—a wedding present. I found out yesterday that I had inherited the house from my grandmother. I cannot keep it.”

“Why?” he demanded.

She met his eyes boldly, dignity warring with tears. “It would draw me back here.”

“Do you hate this place so much?”

She lowered her gaze to her hands. “Quite the contrary, but I don’t belong here.”

He couldn’t imagine Glenlorne without her. “What about the girls? What will they do without you? They adore you.”

“They’ll have Sophie.”

Alec ran a hand through his hair. “Och, I can see it’s going to be a grand wedding, with every bloody person in tears—at least the ones who are left.”

“She’s beautiful, Alec. She’ll make a wonderful wife.” There was farewell in her voice, in her eyes. His heart broke in his chest.

He gripped her shoulders. “Keep the Grange, Caroline. Let it bring you back—in a year, or two years, in five, only promise you’ll come back to—” She stopped the last word—“me”—with a finger on his lips. Her skin was cool, and his mouth watered to kiss her.

Her eyes met his. “It’s best this way, clean and quick. You’ll fall in love with So—”

Sophie appeared in the open doorway. “Oh Caroline, I just have to have your advice about how I should wear my hair tomorrow—Lady Charlotte has commandeered every maid in the place to help her pack, and I can’t bear to ask Lottie, now she’s broken Wi—” She paused when she saw Alec, practically holding Caroline in his arms.

Alec watched his bride’s eyes widen, saw the understanding in the pale blue depths. “Oh,” she breathed, and pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh.”

Caroline stepped away from him, forced a smile. “I was giving Alec my wedding gift to give to you tomorrow—Lullach Grange.”

Sophie pursed her lips, still looking from Alec to Caroline and back again. She made no move to pick up the deed Caroline held out to her. Her cheeks paled to ivory, then flushed a deep shade of pink. “Then I should thank you.”