Page 34 of A Rogue in Twilight (The Whisky Rogues #2)
“Sorry, couldn’t be helped,” Patrick said. “Nick is persistent.”
“True. He talked our uncle into selling the clan seat to him years back.”
Patrick huffed. “He and John are heading north to look at renovations for an old castle near Loch Katrine. Nick intends to open a new hotel there. With more tourists coming to the Highlands, more accommodations are needed. Eldin hired John Graham as an engineer to build private roads and so on.”
“The locals might deem it too much improvement to suit them,” James murmured. “Well, we shall see. I understand Aunt Rankin plans to tour the Highlands.”
“She’s quite enthused about it. She will stay at Struan for a night or two, as she is in a hurry to get going. You know how she can be. She’ll breeze through the Highlands and barely appreciate it, but once home, she will be an expert to impress her friends.”
“Indeed. I am surprised you are with her. You have scant patience for her entourage. Fiona is with her?”
“I could not have borne the company for long without her! Aunt Rankin is dragging along her insufferable nephew, Philip, and Miss Sinclair. The latter for your benefit, I am sure.”
“No doubt,” James muttered.
“I would have begged off entirely, but I wanted to see you. And I have been appointed to a position in the Highlands. Excise Officer in a northern area. I am to work with a local sheriff up here, starting in a few weeks.”
“Splendid! A far better use of your talents than clerking documents in the Signet Courts. And you have a taste for adventure.”
“Smugglers abound in those hills, so it should prove interesting.”
“Just be careful. Smuggling is useful for some, and dangerous to others.” James thought of the elusive MacGregor who made fairy brew and other illicit whiskies.
“I am to assist Mr. Dougal MacGregor, a sheriff there,” Patrick said.
That was Elspeth’s cousin’s name. James masked his surprise. “I am glad Fiona decided to come along.”
“She’s arranging to teach at a Gaelic school, and wanted to see you before she leaves. She has requirements to fulfill as we all do, thanks to Grandmother.” Patrick glanced at James. “Any luck with yours?”
“I am making my way through the fairy book. But I have not married a fairy yet.”
“They are not thick upon the ground, I imagine.”
“More than you’d think,” James drawled. They reached the stone gates leading to the house. “If I cannot meet that requirement—I may have to sell Struan House. We can divide the profit and no longer pursue Grandmother’s fairy nonsense.”
“We must not lose this property, James. Our family loved this place. The house and estate are the true legacy, more than the funds.”
“Fairy brides are—elusive,” James said curtly. And unwilling, he thought. “A sale would help all of our finances.”
“Aye, but we might lose the inheritance to Eldin. Do not forget that.”
“I am aware,” James said.
Ahead, the barouche had reached the house’s formal entrance. Lord Eldin stepped down, drenched in black, turning his haughty, handsome head to assess the place.
“Perhaps Mr. Browne can more liberally interpret the will,” James said.
“We can ask,” Patrick said. “I spent several hours in a coach with Lord Raven over there. He is cold as ice, as if someone plucked the heart out of him. I recall him being pleasant enough when were lads. I wonder what happened.”
“He was. I wonder too.” James had nearly forgotten that Cousin Nick had been a good companion in boyhood.
But he had heard rumors of betrayal and scandal since, though he knew little about it.
He strode forward, ready to act as host and laird to uphold the Highland hospitality that dictated courtesy no matter the guest.
As they entered the house together, James thought of what Patrick had said. It’s as if someone plucked the heart out of him. That came from hurt, he thought, and wondered again why the Earl of Eldin would have turned so unfeeling, if indeed that was the case. Perhaps it was a protective ruse.
A shout from Angus MacKimmie caught his attention, and James turned to see a landau entering the earthen drive. He walked forward to meet it. As the driver opened the door, Sir Philip stepped out first with a mumbled greeting. Then James and Patrick assisted the ladies to the ground.
“James! Lord Struan, rather!” Lady Rankin exclaimed. “How good to see you. What absolutely dreadful roads you have up here. Look who I brought with me.”
Fiona stepped out, her smile quick and bright, her kiss for James light on his cheek. Smoothing the creases from her gray skirt and short jacket, she moved aside as Charlotte Sinclair stepped out.
She twitched the ivory skirts spilling gracefully beneath a red velvet spencer, and patted her blond hair under a straw hat looped with crimson ribbons. She stretched out her hand. “Dear James, how I’ve missed you!”
“Miss Sinclair,” he said, his voice cool. He overlooked her move to offer her gloved hand for a kiss. As Charlotte tucked her arm in his, he could only think of Elspeth.
“It is good to see everyone,” he said to all. “Welcome to Struan House.”
Later, while they enjoyed Mrs. MacKimmie’s excellent luncheon of cold mutton, mashed turnips, and more, James listened as his aunt talked of her touring plans in great detail. The woman scarcely took a breath despite attempts by others to talk as well.
“Miss Sinclair has the headache and has gone to her room,” Lady Rankin told Mrs. MacKimmie for the third time. “Send a tray up to her, please.”
“Aye, madam, we’ve seen to it,” Mrs. MacKimmie answered.
“James, you must find us a local guide,” Lady Rankin said next.
He nodded, pushing around a piece of lamb and a spoonful of rowan jelly.
“Sir Walter planned to join us on our trip, but he was unable at the last moment. I am so disappointed. He would have been a superb guide on our journey through the Trossachs. His poem is set there, you know, The Lady of the Lake.”
“I know it well, Aunt,” James said.
“Although he gave us a most excellent travelogue for the area, written out in his very own hand. Fiona has it. Did you remember to bring it?”
“I did, Aunt.” Fiona reached into a pocket to produce a folded letter, opening it to show James, seated beside her, a page densely covered with handwritten suggestions.
“We are excited to see Loch Katrine, so beautifully described in his poem,” Lady Rankin went on. “Lady Murray told me last week at tea that the views are breathtaking there. Fiona, do bring your sketchbook so that later we may enjoy pictures of our trip.”
“I will, Aunt.”
“The area is popular with tourists,” Eldin commented. “In fact, I plan to open an establishment near there. Recently I purchased an old castle to refurbish into a hotel.”
“How nice that will be!” Lady Rankin said.
Silent, James noticed that Patrick and Fiona applied themselves to the meal, as did John Graham, while Philip and Lady Rankin expressed interest in Eldin’s project.
“You should all visit when the place is ready for guests,” Eldin said. “We would extend a reasonable price to family.” Patrick looked at Fiona and rolled his eyes.
“Thank you, dear Nicholas,” Lady Rankin said. “Fiona, do consider his new hotel for your accommodations if your teaching assignment is near there.”
“Cousin Fiona would be more than welcome,” Eldin said.
“I will be teaching in a glen there long before the place is done,” Fiona said flatly.
After Lady Rankin and Fiona retired to their rooms to rest, James stayed with the gentlemen to have coffee at the table, a more casual choice than retiring to the parlor.
When Graham asked about local Highland whisky, James fetched a bottle from a stock that Lady Struan had acquired.
Eldin held up a hand in curt refusal—the man had Spartan tastes—while the others accepted drams. James drank only coffee, spooning a little sugar in the hot, bitter liquid.
He was reminded of Elspeth and her sweet tooth for sugar in her tea. She was never far from his mind.
They discussed engineering efforts throughout Scotland, which James found quite interesting. John Graham had much to say, while Eldin brusquely commented, though he seemed keen to learn about plans near Loch Katrine.
“However, the roads in your little glen here are in very poor condition,” Eldin told James. “I hope you have plans to repair them, as viscount here.”
“Recent storms did some damage. I will ask Mr. MacKimmie to hire a few men to repair the bridge near here. And repairs are needed elsewhere, I know.”
“The roads the Highland Commission planned several years ago are nearly complete,” John Graham said.
“The work of Telford and others is making a difference throughout the Highlands. Between the new roads and older highways created under General Wade for the British campaign a century ago, the Highlands are more accessible than ever. It is good for tourism, which could prove good for Scotland.”
“I wonder if this glen was included in those plans,” James said. “Otherwise the cost of repairs could be considerable.”
“Submit an inquiry and a report on conditions here to the Commissioners for Roads and Bridges in the Highlands,” Graham said. “I know the fellow in charge. They would send an engineer to assess the problem. It might take time but could solve things.”
“May as well pay for it yourself, Struan,” Philip said, “if the roads and bridges are on your estate. Get the thing designed and hire the laborers and workmen.”
“Unless you lack funds for repairs,” Eldin said.
“If it must be done, I will take care of it,” James said curtly.
“Allow me to offer a donation for the work,” Eldin responded.
“Why would you do that?” James responded, wary.
His cousin shrugged. “It is a pretty glen. And I hear it is a place of fairy legends, too. I’m partial to such things,” he murmured.
Was the man mocking them, or trying to lay claim to Lady Struan’s book? James narrowed his eyes. “The legends here are similar to many in the Highlands. As for the work needed in the glen, I appreciate the offer, but it is solely my concern, sir.”
“I do not offer out of the goodness of my heart,” Eldin said. “This glen could provide a thoroughfare toward Loch Katrine and therefore my hotel. So I would prefer that your roads and bridges be in good repair.”
“I will keep that in mind,” James said, tight-lipped. After all, his cousin stood to gain if the MacCarran siblings did not meet the will requirements.
“How is your geology research going, Struan?” Philip Rankin asked. “And something about folklore too, as I understand it.”
“It is progressing nicely.”
“A while ago,” Eldin began, “I heard a tale of lost fairy gold in this glen. Have you encountered such a story?”
“Only in passing,” James answered. “There is nothing much to it. My grandmother did not even mention it in her notes.”
“She was a thorough scholar of folklore,” Eldin said. “I am sure she entrusted her work to you in good faith.”
“I am doing my best.”
“Gold?” Patrick looked intrigued. “A bit of gold would solve a lot of problems.”
“Certainly people must have looked for it,” Eldin said. “Temptation is strong where legends of treasure exist.”
“True. Have you encountered my MacArthur cousins while you have been here, Struan?” John Graham asked. James turned, grateful for a new subject. “I wish I had time for a visit, but alas we are set to meet with architects in the morning.”
“I have met Mrs. Peggy Graham and the MacArthurs,” James said carefully. “They are quite well.”
“Excellent! Please give them my best regards.”
“You must invite them to dinner while we are here,” Patrick said. “I remember meeting John’s cousin Miss MacArthur in Edinburgh. Lovely girl.”
Sipping his coffee, James nodded. “She is.”
“She was quite taken with you in Edinburgh.” Philip grinned. “The kisses flowed that afternoon, as I recall! You and Miss MacArthur seemed in agreement.”
“Met a Highland lass, did you?” Eldin asked. “Very good.”
Sensing the edge in the tone, James smiled flatly.
He would be glad to see Eldin’s fancy barouche depart along the same rough and rutted glen road the man had complained about.
And may the very de’il bounce him back to hell, he thought uncharitably.
For some reason he was glad that Eldin would not meet Elspeth MacArthur.