My Highland Rogue Read online

  “I’m a friend of the Adaire family. It’s because of that fact that I’m here now.”

  Maggie reached for a currant biscuit and nibbled it delicately as she listened. The woman didn’t have a crumb on her.

  “I understand that Harrison Adaire is a member here.”

  Maggie did not confirm or deny that fact.

  “He needs to come home,” Ellen said, letting her utter disgust for Harrison show. “His wife is about to have their first child, and he hasn’t come back to Scotland in months.”

  “What do you expect us to do about that, Mrs. Thornton?”

  She waved her hand in the air. “Something. Can’t you tell him that he’s no longer wanted? Can’t you refuse to allow him any more credit?”

  Maggie looked momentarily startled before her face fell into perfect lines once again.

  “Harrison has always been a lamentable card player,” Ellen said in explanation. “And a gambler, for that matter. If there was one horse destined to come in last, that is the one that Harrison would pick. He cannot wager to save his life, and the only thing that has proven to be an asset for him is the Adaire fortune. You can’t tell me that his luck has changed. I don’t believe it. Luck is the province of fools and beggars.”

  Maggie just stared at her.

  Ellen continued. “I’ve been told that Harrison is doing everything in his power to diminish that fortune. I do not doubt that you consider him one of your best members, but I also suspect that he owes you quite a bit of money.”

  Maggie looked straight at her, blinked twice, then smiled. Such a blinding expression that Ellen almost wanted to close her eyes. Or beg the woman to direct her charm to something else, a far wall, perhaps.

  “You’re right. Harrison does owe us quite a bit of money. We have extended him credit, but there’s no worry that we won’t be paid.”

  They should worry. Harrison didn’t have the sense God gave an ant.

  “I am willing to pay his debts,” Ellen said. “On the condition that you send him home.”

  Maggie looked momentarily surprised once more. “How do you suggest that we do that, Mrs. Thornton?”

  “Refuse to let him gamble here for a month. If that doesn’t work, rescind his membership.”

  “Why on earth would we do that? If we had twenty more Harrisons, we’d be the most successful club in all of England.”

  “For decency’s sake?”

  Maggie didn’t say anything for a moment, making Ellen wonder if she had pushed too much.

  Finally, the other woman nodded, just once.

  “He’ll still be responsible for paying his own markers, Mrs. Thornton. I wouldn’t expect you to do that. However, a certain situation did arise concerning one of our hostesses. It would be best, perhaps, if Harrison remained away from the club for a while. Just to let things settle.”

  Although she was curious, Ellen told herself not to ask. Harrison was already possessed of a lamentable character. She really didn’t want to know that he’d done something untoward to a young woman. Or even engaged in an adulterous affair.

  “So, you will send him home, then?”

  “Yes, I will.”

  “Will he listen to you?” Unsaid were the words—because you’re a woman.

  Maggie smiled again, but this expression was not as amused.

  “I speak for the owner. Every member here knows that. If Harrison disputes my words, I do have the ability to throw him out on his ear, earl or not.”

  The words were spoken in a delicate voice, but Ellen heard the steel in her tone.

  She was beginning to like the woman more and more. Perhaps even enough to overlook the fact that, next to Maggie, she was rendered exceedingly plain.

  “What a pity that we won’t get to know each other better,” she said. “I think I should like you very much.”

  “Never discount the future, Mrs. Thornton. Perhaps circumstances will arrange themselves.”

  She had been in the woman’s company less than an hour, but she already suspected that whatever Maggie wanted, Maggie got.

  That thought led to another: exactly who was the owner of the Mayfair Club? He must be an extraordinarily talented man and one imminently secure in himself. Otherwise, Maggie would’ve had him for breakfast.

  Chapter Six

  Gordon remained with his father, sitting on the ladder-back chair as Sean fell asleep.

  “Begging your pardon, sir,” a voice said.

  He turned to see a girl standing in the doorway, a white apron over her dress. Her hair was caught up in a bun that had come loose, spilling bright red curls over one shoulder.

  “Who would you be, sir?” she asked softly, after casting a glance in Sean’s direction.

  “Gordon McDonnell,” he said, standing and moving to the door. “Sean’s son.”

  She bobbed a curtsy, spreading out the apron like it was a ball gown.

  “Pardon me for asking, sir. It’s just that he’s under my care.”

  They left the room, Gordon closing the door behind him.

  “Can you tell me what’s wrong with him?”

  She seemed torn, looking at the closed door then back at him.

  “It’s a cancer, sir. The doctor says it’s in the bowels.”

  Her face pinked up as she spoke, making Gordon wonder if she’d been a nurse for very long.

  “What is your name?”

  “Sally Farrell, sir.” She smiled, the expression a pleasant one.

  “Come and talk to me, Sally, and tell me what I need to know.”

  He led the way to the small kitchen table beneath the window. There had never been more than two chairs here. As a child he’d had his meals after his parents were finished. He’d grown accustomed to sitting here alone, staring out the window at the Hall in the distance. He’d always wondered at Harrison and Jennifer’s life in that great house.

  Now he pulled out the chair for Sally, and after she sat, he joined her.

  “He’s in a lot of pain, isn’t he?”

  “The herbs help, of course, and the laudanum.”

  Was there more that could be done? After speaking with Sally for a few minutes, he realized that it was probably stubbornness that had kept Sean alive. There was no hope for a cure, according to the Adaire family physician summoned to examine Sean. Something else Jennifer had done.

  “We try to make him as comfortable as possible, sir. Plus, people come to visit. Ned comes to see him almost every day and finds a question to ask him. Something about the land or the gardens. Something to make Sean feel as though people care that he’s still here. Everyone needs to feel important, sir, even in the midst of their pain.”

  He wondered if Sally was espousing beliefs that she held or if she was parroting what she’d heard. It sounded like something Jennifer would say.

  He was rarely at a loss for words, even though there were times when he deliberately kept silent. It was better to let someone wonder at his thoughts than to let them fall on deaf ears. Now, however, he didn’t know what to say to Sally.

  Finally, the words seemed to birth themselves.

  “Is there anything that I can do? Anything that I can bring him?”

  Her brown eyes warmed. “Nothing, sir.” She hesitated before speaking again, but finally did, the words coming slowly. “It’s the knowing of it that’s difficult. It won’t be long now.”

  He’d already figured that out for himself. He reached over and patted her hand where it lay on the table.

  Standing, he thanked her before making his way to the door.

  “What would be a good time to visit him again?”

  She turned in her chair and her young face looked suddenly older, more mature. He had a vision of what she might look like as an old, old woman. A lined face, a furrowed brow, but kind, gentle eyes.

  “There is no good time, sir. Anytime would be best.”

  He nodded. “Then I’ll come after dinner,” he said.

  “Moira will be here then. I’ll te
ll her about you. She’s the night nurse. Miss Jennifer didn’t want Sean to be alone, so there’s one of us here at all times.”

  One more reason to thank Jennifer.

  Jennifer had planned to have a dinner tray brought to her in her sitting room. However, Lauren had sent word that she’d invited Gordon to dinner.

  Perhaps it wasn’t entirely proper for a woman in the last month of confinement to attend dinner with a stranger, but Lauren was determined. Jennifer thought it was a combination of being heartily tired of her room as well as Mrs. Farmer. Plus, she was probably sick of thinking about Harrison. Would he ever come home? Would he ever be a true husband? Questions like that must keep her miserable.

  For the first time in her life, Jennifer was going to sit down to dinner at Adaire Hall with Gordon. When Mr. McBain had been in residence, that would’ve been impossible.

  As the new Countess of Burfield, Lauren could command anything, and no one would think the less of her.

  He was here. After all these years, Gordon was here. The thought echoed in Jennifer’s mind and harnessed itself to her breath and her heartbeat. He was here. Even if he was different, he was Gordon. He’d finally come home. He was here.

  Yet he hadn’t returned for her, but for Sean. To do his duty by his father.

  She sat at her vanity and stared at herself. She looked tired, but she’d wanted everything done for the celebration of the birth. They’d cleaned Adaire Hall from top to bottom, including all the windows. She was a little too pale, and there was an expression in her eyes that hinted at sadness.

  Her life was enjoyable in a great many ways. She had her books, her painting—or her dabbles as Harrison called them. She walked every day, not only around the Hall, but a path into the hills surrounding the house. Sometimes she sketched or painted or read. Occasionally, if her duties allowed it, she simply sat and watched as the sun traveled over a summer sky and the shadows grew deep, leading to the endless days of a Highland summer.

  She’d always return home slowly and perhaps a little reluctantly. She loved her home, but she knew, only too well, that it didn’t belong to her. She was here because she had nowhere else to live and no one wanted her. The estate belonged to Harrison, and if his child was a boy, he would inherit Adaire Hall, the title, and all that accompanied it.

  That was the way of the world and she understood it. Even though she had always cared so much more about their home than Harrison, she knew she’d never be more than an afterthought in its history. Perhaps a footnote: Jennifer Adaire, the sixth Earl’s spinster sister, was instrumental in managing the estate for a number of years.

  Time had been kind to the house. There weren’t many indications that five years had passed as far as the estate was concerned. Perhaps the trees had grown a little taller. There was dry rot in one of the drawing rooms. The roof had been replaced on one of the wings. Other than that, nothing had changed.

  As for her, she was older than most of the women on the marriage mart. If she was firmly on the shelf, she had no one but herself to blame. Gordon hadn’t limited her life. He hadn’t restricted her to Adaire Hall. She’d done that on her own.

  We’re better off without him. He was a disruptive influence.

  Those were Harrison’s words after Gordon left. Harrison had seemed fiercely glad that Gordon was no longer at the Hall. He’d told her, on more than one occasion, to stop staring out the window like a forlorn puppy.

  Her godmother was the only one who seemed to understand.

  “I miss him so much. Sometimes I don’t think I can stand it. Why did he leave? Why?”

  Ellen had patted her on the back, then kissed her on the forehead. “I didn’t know your Gordon,” she said, “but I imagine that the world was calling him. From what you’ve said about him, perhaps he would never be content to take an easy path in life.”

  Ellen had been right. He needed to find his own place, his own way in the world.

  Had he done that?

  He was a man you would notice when he walked into a room. He would stand in the doorway and every pair of eyes would gravitate to him. The men would feel immediately intimidated, and the women would want an introduction.

  There was something in his gaze that hadn’t been there before. A wariness coupled with something else. Knowledge, perhaps, of himself. This was a man who gave you the impression that he knew exactly who and what he was, and was prepared to defend himself to anyone.

  She had not expected that he would have that kind of impact on her. Or that she would feel suddenly inept and shy.

  She stood in front of her wardrobe, selecting first one dress and then another. Nothing looked good enough. Everything she selected was too plain and serviceable. She had a few dresses that Ellen’s seamstress had made for her, but if she wore one of those, she would look garishly overdressed.

  What a choice: to wear something utterly plain or much too formal.

  The white lace blouse and blue skirt were going to have to suffice. She attached a ruby brooch to her blouse and surveyed herself in the pier glass.

  She looked like a governess.

  Perhaps she should put her hair up. If she took the time to do that, she’d probably be late for dinner. It was simply going to have to do. Besides, why was she being so foolish? Gordon had ignored her earlier.

  He would probably not even notice she was at dinner.

  Chapter Seven

  Before she went downstairs, Jennifer stopped by Lauren’s room to see if she needed some assistance. There was no one in her suite, which meant that Lauren and her maid had already descended the stairs.

  She did the same, all the while counseling herself not to show any outward excitement. A placid demeanor, that’s what was called for. If he could be distant, so could she. If he could ignore her, she’d do the same to him. She would not be the Jennifer of five years ago. Instead, she would be someone Gordon had never met, a mature Jennifer. Composed, calm, someone who wasn’t overly emotional, but who let logic rule, instead.

  He was here. A dozen feet to the dining room door and she would see him. How many times had she imagined him back at Adaire Hall? Too many to count.

  She made it to the door of the winter dining room before her heart started to race. She was finding it difficult to breathe, and any thought of being unaffected by Gordon’s presence flew out the window.

  Lauren and Gordon were engaged in conversation. They seemed at ease with each other despite the fact that their acquaintance was only minutes old.

  A fire had been lit in the fireplace in the opposite wall. This room was used whenever the weather turned nippy because the other family dining room didn’t have a fireplace. The formal dining room was almost never used unless Harrison brought guests down for hunting or a week’s worth of drinking. It could accommodate two dozen guests with room to expand the table even further.

  Her mother had loved this room because the windows looked out over the rolling hills leading down to the river. Jennifer had often sat here, staring through those same windows and wishing to be gone, either desperate to meet Gordon by the loch or to follow him up through the hills.

  Now she stood in the doorway, uncertain. Gordon noticed her and stood.

  “You look lovely,” he said. He’d always been polite, even as a boy. He would have said the same thing to a stranger. Or a woman past the first blush of youth. Or someone unfortunately plain.

  She forced a smile to her face.

  “I see you’ve met Lauren,” she said, glancing at her sister-in-law. She moved to the middle of the table next to Lauren and opposite Gordon.

  “I have. We’ve discovered that we have quite a few friends in common in London.”

  “Oh?”

  She wouldn’t have known any of Lauren’s friends in London. She’d only visited the city twice in her life, and she’d spent most of the time awestruck by the monuments, the museums, and the sheer number of people.

  Most of her time had been spent at Adaire Hall with visits to Edin
burgh. She wasn’t nearly as cosmopolitan as Lauren, or evidently, Gordon. Part of her wanted to flee the room. Instead, she sat, thanking the footman who’d pulled out the chair for her.

  Lauren, who hadn’t had an appetite for the past week, certainly made up for it tonight. Both she and Gordon masked the fact that Jennifer wasn’t eating much. Nor did she have anything worthwhile to offer to their sparkling conversation.

  Lauren had lived in Edinburgh most of her life, but her father also had a house in London, where she stayed during the season.

  The only thing Jennifer knew well was life at Adaire Hall, and that was too boring a topic. She could quote how many sheep and cattle they owned, the various acreages being farmed, and whether the salmon were plentiful this year. She knew hundreds of separate details pertaining to the history of her home, none of which she mentioned. Lauren only saw Adaire Hall as Harrison’s home, and there was never a doubt of Gordon’s dislike for the estate.

  He’d dressed for dinner. The black suit favored him, making his blue eyes even more vibrant. His was a strong face, with individual features that nevertheless seemed to fit perfectly. His nose reminded her of a Roman statue. His chin was squared. His brows were thick, but so were his eyelashes, keeping his face from being too rough. At the same time, he looked like a Scottish warrior, someone transplanted into the present from the tenth century.

  Over the years she’d often seen him wearing a kilt and he’d looked perfect in it. Once, he had hefted a broadsword in the clan hall. She’d never forgotten the sight of him lit by sunlight, the muscles in his arms pulled tight against his shirt. In that moment he’d been a member of her clan, proud, brave, and willing to fight.

  He’d never known how often she had thought of him that way. Or how it had stirred her.

  Lauren sat with her hand on the mound of her stomach. It was a protective gesture that she had started making about two months ago. From time to time she would pat her expanding girth as if to reassure the baby that she hadn’t forgotten he was the most important person in her life. This dinner might well be the last time she was able to make it down the stairs until her child was born.