Page 14 of Kilgannon #1

T HE GODS WERE INDEED WITH US THAT DAY. LOUISA and Betty hardly mentioned that we’d been gone.

Randolph was coming home, and the house was in an uproar.

I swore to myself that I’d do ten good deeds for this day.

It wasn’t until I was alone in my room that I realized I still had the half plaid.

Any other day Louisa would have noticed it immediately, I thought as I wrapped it around me.

The cloth smelled like Alex, a masculine scent that reminded me of soap and the sea.

My imagination, no doubt, but I liked the idea.

And I liked that Alex talked to me as though I had a brain.

I was weary of being told not to worry about the things men discussed.

No other man I knew included me in his thoughts the way Alex did. No one.

To my surprise the next few days flew by.

Randolph arrived safely, and Louisa was with him constantly.

He was devoted to her, as usual, which had always surprised me, for Randolph was often brusque with the rest of the world.

Although he and Louisa had been married for over eight years, I did not know him well.

At first I’d been too young and then I’d been at Mountgarden while my mother was ill.

In those first years I had resisted Randolph mightily.

He was not my uncle Duncan, and I resented that.

I realized now that my affection for Duncan probably played no small part in my willingness to consider a Scotsman as a suitor.

But I was not unnoticed. Someone had been telling tales, and Randolph took his duties as chaperon most seriously.

We had a long discussion, during which I argued that I had done nothing untoward at Louisa’s party.

All this for some conversation in the dining room, I thought.

What would he say if he discovered I’d seen Alex again and roamed the streets with him?

Randolph stumbled through what he thought he needed to tell me, softening it at the end with an apologetic smile.

My resentment faded as I watched his faltering attempts at being my uncle.

The man meant well, I knew, but he did not need to know what was in my heart. It was enough that I did.

Alone later, I told myself to be sensible and heed Randolph’s warnings.

I really did not know Alex. I knew how very blue his eyes were, how golden his hair, and how contagious his laughter.

He was the most charming companion. But he realistic, I scolded myself.

He may never appear at your door again, And that might be for the best.

Dinner with Robert and his mother was enjoyable, but I kept hearing the echoes of Alex’s laughter, and even Robert seemed to notice the difference.

He did his best to be engaging and witty, which was unlike Robert, but he had no counterpart.

Under other circumstances, I suspected, he and Alex might have been great friends.

At last Rebecca returned from Bath, and I dined twice with her family and Lawrence’s.

Louisa had, of course, discussed Alex with Becca’s mother, Sarah, her closest friend, a strong-willed woman who was no stranger to London’s prejudices.

Sarah’s father-in-law had seriously opposed his son’s marriage to “an outsider,” as he had called Sarah, but Rebecca’s father had married Sarah despite the opposition and the marriage had been happy.

She had been kind to me through the years and tonight greeted me warmly,, As I knew she would when the men withdrew, she asked me about Alex.

I was only too happy to discuss him, and we talked at length.

And I talked of him again with Becca when we were at last alone.

She laughed at me. “I told you he was memorable, Mary, but honestly! I should never have left you here without me. You should see your expression when you talk about him. You silly goose! What will you do?”

“Wait.”

Becca’s expression grew worried. “Mary, you’re from very different worlds. He’s a Scot. If he does come back, are you prepared for what that will mean?”

“What will it mean?” I laughed, but she was serious.

“You know what it will mean. Louisa will not be pleased. Everyone expects you to marry Robert. Are you prepared to marry a stranger and go to Scotland and live there the rest of your life?”

“Becca, I hardly know him! Alex has not asked me to marry him. We have talked a few times, that’s all. Besides, I’d not be leaving everything I know as you are. It’s not the same at all. Your decision was much larger. Do you not worry about it?”

Rebecca shook her head. “I cannot live without Lawrence, and I will go to where his home is.” She sighed.

“I’m happy to marry, but I’m not happy to be leaving everything and everyone I know.

Mary, who would have expected this? Me going across the Atlantic?

I would have thought we’d be in London together the rest of our lives.

I thought we’d be like your aunt and my mother, great friends and neighbors, living three houses apart for years.

Will we ever see each other again after I leave?

Will we still be friends when we are their age? Promise me we will be.”

“Becca,” I said, embracing her. “Of course we will. We’ll always be friends,” I said, but I wondered how we could be with thousands of miles between us.

In the next few days we visited with other friends, and they all asked about Alex.

When I said he was the handsomest man I’d ever seen, Janice sniffed with distaste, declaring that he was too big and his chin too pointed.

“It’s uncivilized that he won’t wear a wig.

He wears those ridiculous clothes and has children.

And,” she paused for emphasis, “he trades with other countries. ”

“Indeed he does,” I had laughed. “That alone has stopped me from marrying him already.” But Janice had not been amused. I sighed and sat quietly, dreaming of Westminster Abbey while she explained yet another reason that Alex was unsuitable.

Nine days went by faster than I could have imagined.

Will and Betty went home to Warwickshire as planned.

I had been scheduled to go with them but begged to stay in London for another week.

On the tenth day I refused all invitations and stayed at home the entire day, pretending to read.

No one came to the house, no one brought a message, and I told myself that ten days was how long Alex would be gone.

I really couldn’t expect to hear anything until the eleventh.

On the eleventh day I told myself that I’d hear any moment.

On the twelfth I was bursting into tears unexpectedly all day, making speeches in my head and calling myself the world’s greatest fool.

I was grateful that Will was gone to Mountgarden, for he’d have something to say to me about this.

Late that afternoon, with both Louisa and Randolph gone, I walked aimlessly in the gardens and turned at the sound of shoes on gravel to see Bronson approaching me.

He wordlessly handed me a letter, his disapproval obvious.

I did not recognize the writing, but the note carried the MacGannon crest, and as Bronson left I ripped it open.

It was not from Alex. Angus had written to me instead, giving his apologies.

Alex, he wrote, was ill and not able to visit me.

He would call on me when he returned to London.

I read the note four times before I started crying, and then it took mean hour to decide what to do.

I reasoned that the situation was one of two.

Either Alex was indeed ill or he was avoiding me.

Whichever it was, I decided, I would see him and find out.

I ran the three houses to Becca’s and pounded on the door.

If I’d been entirely rational I would have been more circumspect, I’m sure, but that was beyond me at that moment.

Her parents were with Louisa and Randolph, and Lawrence was somewhere with his family, so she was alone.

When I explained what had happened and what I proposed to do, she argued with me.

I burst into tears. Within minutes we were heading for the docks.

I’d insisted that she stay behind, but she’d refused, stating firmly that either she came along or I had no carriage.

I knew my reputation would indeed be in tatters if we were discovered and was willing to take the risk myself, but I did not want Becca to suffer in any way for my indiscretion. We argued as we drove.

After some reluctant searching, Rebecca’s man discovered the Gannon’s Lady, which I knew must be the ship.

I ran down the dock, heedless of the curious looks from the sailors, and was about to run up the gangplank when I was stopped by an imperious voice asking us what we were doing.

Becca, close behind me, bumped into me, and by the time we had sorted ourselves out a familiar laugh rang out above us.

I froze: Alex was laughing at us. Dear God, he was well and I was indeed the world’s greatest fool.

I looked up and into blue eyes, but they were not his, and I said a quick prayer of thanks as I watched the man.

He was like Alex, but different. Alex was tall and lean, with wide shoulders and a trim waist, and this man was tall and square.

His chest was wide, his face very like Alex’s, but fuller.

It was an interesting mix of features. If I had not known Alex so well I might have taken this man for him.

“You must be Malcolm,” I said, my voice sounding much calmer than I felt. His surprise was evident.

“And ye can only be the Miss Lowell my brother talks about every minute.” He smirked. I disliked him at once. Something in the way he’d said that—so contemptuous of Alex—and the way he looked at Rebecca and me made me distrust him immediately.