Page 26 of A Rogue in Firelight (The Whisky Rogues #1)

“O h my heavens, Ellison, we heard a rumor at the dance last night. But we shall get to that,” Lady Strathniven said, seated on the carriage’s leather bench opposite Ellison and Sorcha. “Tell us more about what happened last night. We were in such a rush to depart this morning that I hardly took it in.”

“Just an unfortunate incident on the road,” Ellison said, as the barouche rumbled through the glen. “Pitlinnie’s carriage—had a problem. Luckily Darrach came by and took me to Invermorie, as it was close,” she added. “Mairi Brodie and Sir Ludo kindly took us in for the night. We had a lovely breakfast with them this morning.”

She blushed fiercely and hoped they would not notice. Very soon she would confide in them about her marriage. She thought of her parting with Ronan that morning when he left to meet Hugh Cameron and arrange for the shipment of the whisky to Edinburgh, and smiled to herself at the memory.

“I will see you in Edinburgh,” he had murmured only two hours ago, standing with her in Strathniven’s foyer. “As soon as possible.”

“Do that, Darrach,” she had said, tapping his chest. “You can find me at my father’s house.” As she rose on her toes to kiss him, he had pulled her into his arms for a stirring kiss that melted through her, head to toe.

“Wife,” he had growled, “we need to be alone together very soon.”

“Aye, but I cannot spend my wedding night in my father’s house.”

“Hugh Cameron secured me a place. I will take you there.”

“Wonderful,” she had whispered, pressing close.

Then she had entered a whirlwind of packing and hurrying about. Lady Strathniven had insisted that they travel that very morning, and had orchestrated a caravan of two carriages, the ladies in one, and her maid Jeannie and another servant maid riding in the other with trunks and bags. To Ellison’s great relief, Adam Corbie had already left in something of a hurry, as Sorcha had reported.

“Oh, these awful roads!” the viscountess said now. “I order repairs on my lands, but other landholders must do the same to keep the old glen roads in good condition. The Crown is only interested in their military roads, straight as arrows through the hills and not very picturesque. Scottish peers must be the custodians of the Highland legacy.”

“I agree,” Ellison said, petting Balor, who slept in her lap. She stroked his head and shoulders and watched the road and hills fly past. Wondering where Ronan was now, she hoped he would not cross paths with Corbie at any point.

“Oh dear, it is raining again,” Sorcha said, looking out the window.

“Mr. MacNie expects to keep a good pace so we can reach the ferry over the firth on time,” Lady Strathniven said. “We will also have to stop for tea along the way. Even with so many carriages on the roads heading for Edinburgh, MacNie thinks we will reach the city by this evening.”

“It is so exciting,” Sorcha said. “They said at the dance last night that the king’s ship is already anchored offshore at Leith, but must stay beyond the rough waters until the storms pass and they have clear sailing into the harbor.”

“The Duke of Atholl himself said that the storms have been simply awful in Edinburgh all summer.” The viscountess looked at Ellison. “Was Darrach able to arrange for Glenbrae whisky to be delivered to Holyroodhouse for the king’s visit?”

“He is arranging that this morning. He and Mr. Cameron will travel by steam packet with the shipment so that they can be sure the whisky arrives safely in Leith, where it can be taken into the city.”

“Excellent!” Lady Strathniven smiled. “This will be a great feather in Darrach’s cap now that his inheritance is confirmed. He is such a good man, and such a good friend. We are fortunate this has turned out so well. Do you not agree, Ellison?”

The hot blush rose again, and she twined her gloved hands nervously. “Very fortunate, my lady. And—well, Darrach and I have some news.” In her lap, Balor lifted his head to look at her, tipping his head quizzically, even as Sorcha and Lady Strathniven raised their eyebrows in quick interest.

“Good news?” The lady’s eyes sparkled. “Does it have to do with a certain rumor that we heard last night?”

“We did hear a rumor!” Sorcha beamed. “Tell us!”

Her smile was tremulous. Tugging at her gloves, she deliberately stilled her hands. Be calm, she told herself.

“Lord Darrach and I were married this morning.”

Silence for a moment. Balor gave a little yelp, as if he understood. Lady Strathniven gasped and set a hand to her bosom, and Sorcha squealed in delight.

“Oh, my dear girl, married! I did not expect that!” Lady Strathniven leaned forward to take Ellison’s hand. “And to such a lovely gentleman!”

“Thank you. I was not sure how you would feel about it.” She gave a shy smile.

“I could not be more pleased,” the lady said with a knowing look. “Truly.”

“This is wonderful!” Sorcha hugged her. “So you are Lady Darrach now!”

“I suppose so.” Ellison laughed a little.

“This morning? We had no idea—though I thought you two were just marvelous together,” the lady said.

“Aye, early this morning. An impromptu decision because Mr. Muir, Darrach’s friend, was there. He was a pastor in his younger days, and we had agreed to marry—and his family were all there. It seemed better to fix the marriage now, before we stepped into the madness in the city. Arranging a wedding in Edinburgh would take such a very long time these days with all the commotion. And we were very happy to have a simple ceremony.” She hoped the explanation made sense.

“It is such a Highland thing to do, simple and straightforward,” the viscountess said. “No fuss. I like it.”

“Oh, Ellison! You fell in love with a handsome Highlander and promised to be together always, and had a small Highland wedding.” Sorcha sighed. “It is so romantic!”

“I wonder,” the viscountess mused, “if you felt compromised last night when you were stranded in your carriage and had to be rescued in the middle of night. Darrach is a perfect gentleman and a wonderful man. He would not want you to endure any scandal.”

“There is something to that,” Ellison admitted.

“A man like Darrach has the integrity and strength of character to admit responsibility,” the viscountess continued with a nod.

“Compromise? Oh, Auntie!” Sorcha giggled.

“It seemed the right thing to do,” Ellison said.

“From the day you first saw him, I thought there was something there,” the lady said. “I think you have found someone who suits you well. He is strong and calm and intelligent and he clearly respects and cares about you. One would have to be blind to miss it. Yes, very romantic, despite all.”

“Despite all?” Sorcha asked.

“My lady means the uncertainty about the inheritance. That is all,” Ellison said.

“Yes, that,” the lady agreed.

“He is a true catch,” Sorcha agreed. “My mother said so last night. And I said, but Mama, that handsome man only has eyes for Ellison Graham.”

“I did not think anyone noticed.” Ellison blushed. “It all happened so quickly, the decision to go ahead and marry. I have the certificate to show Papa,” she said, patting her reticule.

“He may fuss about it, but it is done,” Lady Strathniven said. “I will speak to him if he proves difficult. You have made a good choice, my dear. I am convinced.”

“Thank you, my lady.” She sighed in deep relief, glad to have shared the news.

“You had a little wedding, my dear, but we will plan a proper wedding reception for you as soon as this royal visit is over and done. We shall hold it at Strathniven or in the city, as you like.”

“That would be lovely,” Ellison replied, grateful, yet still wary of what lay ahead.

“You will want to talk with your father as soon as you arrive,” the lady urged. “Though I fear Adam will be heartbroken. He is so fond of you, Ellison, and had hopes himself. But he will soon recover from it.”

“I do hope so,” Ellison murmured.

The mantel clock chimed ten times as Ellison stepped into her father’s house. Lewison, the butler, hid his surprise as he opened the door at such a late hour, and the housekeeper, delighted to see her, wanted to make sure Ellison was tucked up in bed with hot tea and scones to help revive her after the long journey. The room was ready with a hearth fire and a hip bath, and though she wanted to sink down and then sleep, she had to do something first. “Is Papa here?” she asked.

“Sir Hector is not at home presently,” Lewison said. “He is at dinner with Sir Walter Scott and the fellows of the Celtic Society. This is a busy time, as you know, Miss Ellison. But he will be pleased to know you are safely home. I shall tell him as soon as he returns. Mr. Corbie was here not long ago inquiring after him also.”

“Is he gone?” She set a hand to her chest. She desperately wanted to see her father before Corbie had the chance.

“Aye, Miss. He indicated he would return in the morning or else meet Sir Hector at Parliament House tomorrow. That is my understanding.”

“Thank you, Lewison. It is good to be home.” And a relief, she thought, to have a chance to rest and gather her thoughts before she saw either of them. Climbing the stairs to her room, she ate a little, bathed, and snuggled into bed, exhausted.

She wondered if Ronan was in the city yet, and where he might be. As hope winged upward—she was in love, she was married, she would talk to her father in the morning, and all would be well—she drifted to sleep.

Gray skies promised more rain as Ellison came downstairs that morning. She went toward her father’s study when Lewison emerged from the library carrying a silver tray with an empty cup and saucer. She knew it signified that that her father might have already left for the day.

“Good morning, Lewison. Is Papa still here?”

“Sorry, Miss, he left for breakfast with the Lord Provost. He came in late last night but insisted that you should not be disturbed. He asked me to tell you that he will see you this evening. Ah, a note arrived for you.” Setting down the tray, he handed her a small envelope. “Lady Strathniven sent a message over early this morning.”

Cracking the wax seal, Ellison read quickly. “I am invited to breakfast on Charlotte Square. It is not far, I can walk. If Papa should come home while I am out, do tell him where I have gone. Will you have someone look after Balor until I return?”

After rushing to her room for a bonnet and spencer against the light drizzle, she was soon on her way up the street. Lady Strathniven’s home on Charlotte Square was two blocks from her father’s house on George Street. Crossing Castle Street, she glanced toward her narrow townhouse, situated in the middle of a row on the hilly street.

Thanks to Mr. Cameron and Justice Beaton, the previous occupants had been sent away and the house was rented. She need not worry about that any longer. She owed thanks to Ronan, too, who had asked his friend Mr. Cameron to see to the situation. It was another thing off her shoulders, and another good thing that Ronan MacGregor had brought to her life.

Hope soared, but she could not shake the uneasy feeling that lingered beneath it. Once she had spoken with her father, and once the king’s visit was done, finally all would be well. It had to be.

Love and happiness must prevail. She could not let the shadows win.

“Heather sprigs,” Lady Strathniven said as she sat with Ellison and Sorcha at the dining table, “for our bonnets and headdresses. I had Jeannie pick an armful before we left the Highlands. The Edinburgh Ladies’ Silver Cross Society will give them out to the ladies at the royal events, and Mrs. Siddons will add heather to the bonnets she is making in her hat shop. During the king’s visit, we ladies can tuck a bit of heather in our bonnets or in our hair to show our pride in Scotland.”

“A lovely thought,” Ellison said.

“Indeed. Will the gentlemen have to wear heather too?” a man asked.

Ellison whirled to see Adam Corbie in the doorway. Suddenly the rainy day seemed gloomier. He looked at her and a tight, mocking smile.

“Adam!” His aunt sounded delighted. “You are here in time for breakfast.”

“Thank you, but I breakfasted already with the Lord Provost and Sir Hector.”

Ellison sucked in a breath. Had Corbie told Papa about the betrothal this morning? He would be sure to twist the tale in his favor. At least he did not know about her marriage and could not spread that news.

“Well, we are glad to see you,” his aunt said. “Will you stay here this week? You are welcome to, but you left Strathniven so hastily that we had no time to chat.”

“No, my lady aunt. I will keep to my rooms on Princes Street. There is much to be done and I would not want to disturb your household with my comings and goings.”

“We are busy as well. We were just going to do some shopping.”

“I would like a word with Miss Ellison before you leave.” As he came closer, Ellison leaned back in her chair as if to escape.

“It is a very busy day,” she began in protest.

“He only needs a moment, Ellison,” Lady Strathniven said blithely. “Come, Sorcha, we will wait for the carriage in the foyer.” She rose, as did Sorcha, who turned.

“Shall I stay?” she asked Ellison, her gaze sympathetic. She seemed to sense Ellison’s discomfort. “Cousin Adam, I have not had a chance to ask how you enjoyed the dance at my mother’s house.”

“Very much. You may go, Cousin. I want a quick private word with Miss Ellison.”

Ellison nodded. This had to be done. “I will see you in a moment, dear.”

When Sorcha left the room, Corbie took her arm firmly and drew her away from the door. As he began to close it, Ellison pulled her arm out of his grasp and faced him.

“Leave it open,” she said.

“I did not think propriety was that important to you.” He took her elbow in a fierce hold and pulled her toward a window niche where they could not be heard.

“And I thought acting the gentleman was important to you,” she returned.

“I have been considering for hours,” he began, “what to do about your betrothal.”

She raised a brow. “Did you tell Papa about—my engagement to Lord Darrach?”

“Not yet, but I will. I want to give you a chance to rectify the situation first.”

“It cannot be rectified.” Squaring her shoulders, she had to take the risk. The truth might save her, and save Ronan. “We are married now.”

“What in blazes! Married? I just saw you. When were you married?”

“Yesterday morning.” She drew a breath. “I met Darrach at the ancient tower near Loch Brae. You know the place.” She gave him a cold stare.

He went pale, small dark eyes narrowing. “What tower?”

“You know where it is. Darrach found me there. We met with his family and old Mr. Muir. Did you know he was once a pastor? No?” She paused, watched him swallow hard. “Mr. Muir offered to marry us, and a quiet, quick ceremony seemed just perfect at the time.”

“Impossible. This cannot be!” He stepped back as if stunned, shaking his head, pulling at his neckcloth as if it choked him. Warily, she moved back a step.

“It is true.”

“I feared that rascal would undo our good work,” he said in a low, threatening voice. “But this is far worse.”

“It seemed a better solution than your suggestion at the cèilidh.”

“You little fool—this man has manipulated you to his advantage. But if he is caught smuggling again, this time he will hang, and so will his friends.”

“He is not smuggling.”

“Trust that I can find the evidence.”

“You cannot be trusted for much, Mr. Corbie.” A strong feeling warned her to say nothing about his scheme to force her into marriage.

“We cannot risk introducing him to the king,” he went on. “He will likely be arrested as soon as he arrives in Edinburgh.”

“He did all you asked and more.”

“Oh, much more,” he said in a cruel tone. “Betrothal is one thing. Marriage quite another. Once again you have made a poor choice. This puts your father in an untenable position. The scandal could undo him.”

“Do not be so dramatic, Mr. Corbie. I married a viscount and a clan chieftain, the cousin of the clan chief who will lead the procession in the city. Papa will be proud.”

“I told you,” Corbie said, “MacGregor intends to transport whisky by sea, so my sources claim. Moving it by sea can be considered smuggling. The excise officers will be interested in that.”

Even now, Ronan might be coming into Leith harbor. “You would not do that.”

“I would. Since I had word of it, I am obligated to report it to Sir Hector, since he serves as chief of the constabulary.”

“You are despicable, Adam Corbie.” She took a step backward. Another.

“But I have a solution. Here is what we will do.” He moved toward her, grabbed her wrist. “Listen to me.”

“I listened before. It did not go well. Let me go.”

“Sir Hector, and my aunt too, will have to hear the truth. But you and I can fix this before they are shocked and disappointed in you.”

“The truth, sir, is that I am married, and you do not like it. But it is done.”

“And can be undone. You must apply for an annulment immediately. Your father will need to know so he can press to have it reversed with urgency.”

“No.” She pulled away, and he pulled her back.

“You will save your father’s future.”

“His future is not threatened. You invented that for your own interests.”

“Did I? Your father cannot advance if his son-in-law is a criminal, or worse, executed for his crimes. Sir Hector will lose all. But you can prevent it, and I will make sure your—groom—has a better chance.”

“You would leave him be?” Her heart pounded, her stomach knotted.

“After the annulment, he might still be arrested and sentenced. I cannot change that course. But we will announce our engagement and marry quickly, and others will understand it is meant to protect you and help you recover from harrowing events.”

“I do not want an annulment. I refused you the other night. It still stands.”

“From what I recall, you accepted me, but you were coerced—perhaps forced—to marry this reprobate. We will mend it.”

She grasped at a straw. “Did you forget that Papa must present Darrach at the royal levee, by the king’s request?”

“We can find someone else to represent the whisky.” He waved a hand.

“No one knows Glenbrae whisky as well as—” She stopped. “Pitlinnie!”

“I will say that Sir Neill has promised Sir Evan MacGregor that he will purchase Glen Brae and its distillery to absolve the debts attached to the Darrach estate. Sir Neill can be introduced as Glenbrae’s owner. It is simple. It only needs a signature. Yours, on the annulment decree.”

“Why are you so intent on punishing Ronan?”

“My dear, he stands between me and all that I should have. Punish? I mean to eliminate him from your life.”

“You have kept your true character well hidden,” she said.

“Have I? Am I as tough as your rogue? As desirable?” Snarling the words, he pulled her against him with surprising strength. Then he kissed her roughly, hurting her mouth, while she twisted away. She broke free and slapped him.

“He is a rogue. You are a wretch,” she snapped.

“You know what to do,” he said, rubbing his jaw. “Do it today. All the ways you have hurt your father can be mended. It is your choice.” Spinning away, he strode out of the room.

Sorcha rushed in moments later. “I heard raised voices. Cousin Adam seemed very upset as he left.”

“Just upset with me,” Ellison reassured her. She clasped her shaking hands. She had to think, had to find a way to stop Corbie. “Sorcha, I must—I have an errand. After we visit the hat shop, will you accompany me?”

A short time later, riding in the carriage with Sorcha and the chattering viscountess, her mind and her heart raced. She would never betray Ronan, but he could not learn the truth of what happened with Corbie—or her father’s secretary would not survive the day.

But she had to do something. Her idea was risky, but could solve this.