Susan Johnson (12 page)

“It’s my son’s house!” Agnes barked, banging her cane on the floor. “You can’t keep me out!”

“I suggest you check the marriage settlement,” Roxane calmly replied. “Your son was so eager to marry me, he was extremely accommodating to my lawyers’ requests.”

“I’ll have Angus taken from you,” the old woman screamed, the feather on her black bonnet quivering with her rage.

“He’s gone. All the children are gone. Good-bye, Agnes, for the last time.”

She swept up the stairs on a buoyant cloud of shameless exultation, undisturbed by the shrieks and threats following her ascent, the means to rid herself of Kilmarnock’s hateful old mother a reality at last. Or perhaps she’d simply reached the end of her patience and would have sent her from the house with or without Argyll.

Being in love gave one an odd sense of invincibility, she reflected, imbued one with a new deep-felt sense of purpose.

She had her house to herself again.

She was legally in control of her life and finances.

She was no longer a young girl unsure of herself, but a woman with the means and ability to secure what she wanted.

And September wasn’t so far away.

A
T THE SAME TIME AGNES ERSKINE LEFT KILMARNOCK
House, two of Queensberry’s informers were closeted with him in his apartments at Holyrood Palace. They sat in a closely arranged circle of chairs, their voices deliberately low, for no one trusted the walls of Holyrood Palace, especially a man of Queensberry’s ilk. His definition of loyalty was fluid and conditional, aligned to any policy advantageous to his fortunes.

Naturally he assumed no less from others.

“Argyll was closeted with lawyers all morning,” one of the men murmured. “A personal matter, the clerk in his office said.”

“Meaning?” Queensberry suspiciously inquired.

“There’s talk he’s accommodating the Countess of Kilmarnock,” a second man answered.

“In what way?”

“Rumor has it—” The man paused for effect. “The Carre lands are the commodity of exchange for the lady’s favors.”

Queensberry’s face went pale, but he showed no other reaction to these men who couldn’t be trusted any more than he. “Are you sure?” he calmly inquired.

“Argyll’s intensely impassioned. The lady refuses him without some guarantees.”

“And those guarantees are my lands?”

Even English spies knew whose lands they were, but they weren’t disposed to argue. “So rumor maintains, sir,” the older of the men replied. “Argyll’s counselors might be able to enlighten you further.”

“Their names, Defoe.”
⁸
Once Queensberry was in
possession of the names, he dismissed the men and sat for a lengthy time in his high-backed chair, seething with the iniquity of Argyll’s arrogance. “We’ll just see who wins this game,” he murmured, his hands steepled on his chest, his mind absorbed with the machinations necessary to thwart Argyll’s plans.

Before long, he was en route to Kilmarnock House, walking the short distance down the Canongate, his methodology in place. His first step would be an interview with the countess. It always paid to be well informed. It was also useful to threaten one’s enemies as soon as possible.

Often the initial warning was all that was necessary to accomplish one’s mission. Although, after his conversation with the countess at dinner last night, he strongly expected her to use Argyll as a shield.

It never hurt to exert pressure, though.

Some people were fainthearted.

N
OT ROXANE FORRESTOR, HOWEVER.

She abhorred Queensberry, and men like him, who felt they could manipulate people and events without any consequences to their own lives. And when Queensberry walked into her drawing room so close on the heels of Agnes’s departure, she wondered if they were in partnership. She found herself considering again how lucky she was to love Robbie Carre, a not uncommon reflection since her meeting with him at Amelia’s—actually, a joyous, blissful constant in her mind.

Queensberry, whose fortunes often depended on
reading people correctly, saw a woman in love the instant he stepped into the room. And she wasn’t trying to conceal it, he noted. He gave her high points for self-assurance.

“I hear Argyll is giddy as a schoolboy over you,” he said, waving the footman out of the room as though it were his house.

“You may stay, Ian,” Roxane countermanded. “Is he really?” she mildly said. “I would hardly characterize Argyll as giddy, but suit yourself. I’m very busy, though, so please be brief.”

Queensberry sat, making himself comfortable as though he intended to stay. “Agnes is gone, I see.”

“How do you see that, James? Do you have your spies here as well?”

“Your caddy told me, if you must know.”

“Did he really? I must see that he’s fired.”

“And your children are gone as well.”

“Did he tell you that, too? He’s much too loose-tongued.”

“Do you want your servant to hear this?”

“Whatever you have to say, James, is best heard by others. You don’t inspire trust, but then I expect you know that by now. How many years have you been working for the English?” she lightly queried as though she were asking him his latest golf scores. “So many lies,” she went on with a flashing smile. “How do you sleep at night?”

“You seem particularly cheerful. Young lovers will do that to a person, though, won’t they?”

“How would you possibly know? No offense intended,” she sweetly said. “And yes, young lovers are
lush, like fresh spring mornings or the delectable scent of lilac on the breeze. Would you like to hear more? I’m embarrassing Ian.”

“What would you do to save him?”

“Why can’t you say his name, James? You astonish me. Such fastidiousness from an evil man.”

“Would you give me the land back to save him?” he blandly queried, relatively immune to barbed remarks in his profession.

She masked her surprise; his sources of information must be well placed. “Why don’t you ask Argyll?”

“I prefer asking you.”

“Ill discuss it with John. Why don’t we leave it at that.”

“I don’t think you’ll discuss it with him. The young boy must love you to risk his life. I doubt you can be false to such devoted passion.”

“You’re touching my heart with such sweet sentiments, but consider—you’re not the only person in Scotland with mercenary instincts. And after all, a widow who has to make her way alone in the world has to weigh all her options…”

“You should be on the stage, my dear,” Queensberry silkily drawled.

“And you should be in prison, my lord.”

“All this facetious banter aside,” he crisply said, his gaze no longer affable, “let me give you a small warning. I have no intention of giving up the Carre lands, not for Argyll’s lust, not for your lovesick heart, not for the honor of the Carres. And John Campbell is very young,” he softly went on. “A disadvantage when dealing with me. So be careful in your bargains. I don’t recommend you selling yourself to Argyll unless the
stipulations of your agreement are altered to something less displeasing to me. Because you’ll never collect your part of the contract. I hope I’ve been plainspoken enough. I wouldn’t want you to misunderstand my intentions.”

“You’re quite lucid, James. However, let me leave you with some equally plain words. You didn’t really think I was ingenuous enough to feel you would relinquish the Carre lands without a fight, did you? That’s why I need Argyll. And it’s a business arrangement we’re considering, if you’re thinking of relaying this conversation to him. He already knows why I’m interested in him. He’s not looking for love, James. He’s not ingenuous, either. I think that’s why he’s commissioner and you’re not,” she said, rising. “Ian will see you out.”

But she was warned.

And she understood Queensberry would stop at nothing.

H
ER INTERVIEW WITH QUEENSBERRY WAS SIMPLE
, though, compared with her coming conversation with Argyll, she knew, and she made preparations in advance for that event.

She understood enough about predatory men to realize that John Campbell wasn’t going to like what he heard. And rather than send for him, she waited for him to appear.

He came at dinnertime that night as though he’d been invited, and when he entered her dining room, he strolled across the large candlelit room, pulled up a chair beside her at the table where she was dining
alone, and said, “I was expecting you to send for me this afternoon.”

Putting down her knife and fork, she sent the servants away with a nod. Unlike Queensberry, who had no pride if he had advantage to gain, Argyll wouldn’t allow himself to be publicly humiliated. Once the last servant had departed, she met his challenging gaze. I’ve changed my mind.”

“You saw him.”

Her brows rose in query. Was he speaking of Queensberry?

“Robbie Carre. You must have seen him. And apparently he’s not inclined to be reasonable.”

“It’s my own decision, John. I found the concept of selling myself unacceptable when actually faced with the prospect. But thank you for your kind interest.”

“You don’t really think I’m going to be well-bred and obliging about this, do you?” He pushed his chair away from the table and leaned back in a comfortable sprawl, his red uniform coat glittering with gold lace and braid. “Let’s talk over our options,” he suggested, leaning forward briefly to lift a bottle of wine from the table. “I presume your lover is opposed.”

“Why not presume I’m opposed?”

“Because I’ve been negotiating people’s lives and fortunes for many years now and I recognize interest when I see it, darling. You were quite willing to share my bed last night.” He poured himself a glass of wine.

“Only with contractual stipulations.”

“Those are still relevant.” He drank deeply and then smiled his approval. “Excellent. Some of the Carre shipment?”

“Isn’t all the good wine in Scotland?” she acknowledged.
Wanting to change the conversation from the Carres, she said, “Queensberry came to see me this afternoon. You might wish to check the security in your office.”

His expression immediately brightened. “Is it Queensberry? If that’s your concern, leave
him
to me. I assure you, he’ll be stripped of the Carre lands and you can forget any further problems with him. My word on it.”

For the smallest moment she was tempted. How easy it would be—a sexual liaison of no consequence to her for so much in return.

He was watching her, his gaze insightful. “He’ll get over it, even if he says he won’t.”

“Does your wife feel that way?”

He shrugged. “Hardly an apt comparison. Come now, Parliament should be dissolved by September, October at the very latest. A few months out of our lives—how can it seriously hurt Robbie Carre at eighteen? He’ll hardly remember in a few years.”

“You’ve never been in love?”

“This is the closest, darling,” he said with a cloudless smile. “I’m looking forward to the experience.”

“Unfortunately, it’s not that simple.”

“You’re making it more difficult than necessary. My dear Roxane, surely you’re sensible of the prize I offer. Even a woman of your renown is aware that this is not a bagatelle. And I’m not a callow young boy to be twined around your lovely finger.”

“Is that a threat?” she murmured.

“Just a realistic appraisal of our circumstances.”

“You’ll make the decision—or you’ve made the decision? Is that what I’m hearing?”

“Darling, acquit me of such ruthlessness. You simply entice me—enormously. Tell me we have an agreement, and I’ll treat you with the greatest deference.”

“I’m truly sorry,” she replied. “I can’t tell you that.”

His eyes lost their geniality. “That’s your last word?”

“It’s my choice.”

“Actually, it’s not. I’m sorry,” he said with feigned courtesy.

“You mistake your power over me.”

“Not in the least.” He moved upright in his chair and placed his wine glass on the table. “My men are surrounding your house. They’ll remain in place for the duration of our … liaison. Don’t attempt to leave.” He adjusted the lace at his cuffs and smiled faintly. “Although I’m not ungenerous. I’m more than willing to adhere to our agreement and free the Carre lands from Queensberry.”

“That costs
you
nothing,” she murmured, “so don’t speak to me of generosity.”

“It costs me Queensberry’s enmity.”

“Which you have already.”

“Taking the Carre lands will cause him a major hemorrhage, my dear. I’m expecting retaliation above and beyond his normal animosity. So you’ll be costing me, rest assured.” He stood and sketched her a bow. “Enough of this useless debate,” he declared, a touch of brusqueness in his voice. “Be ready within the hour with your lawyers. I’ll return with mine.”

“You astonish me. Is this normal for you, this coercion?”

He laughed. “Hardly. You’re the rare exception, my lovely countess. You should be flattered.”

“You’re not the first man who’s coveted me, Argyll. Pray mitigate your arrogance.”