Page 42 of The Wild Rose of Kilgannon (Kilgannon #2)

At Louisa’s I had intended to slip upstairs quietly but was caught with one foot on the first step by Ian and Jamie and the dogs.

I sighed to myself. The solitude and quiet I had sought would not be mine now, but then Jamie threw his arms around me while Ian showed me the sums he had worked on all afternoon and I forgot my exhaustion and tumbled emotions.

I let them lead me to the library, where we had tea and the boys filled the room with their chatter while the dogs nudged against me, looking for attention.

This is what is important, Mary , I told myself.

Nothing else matters but these two boys and the baby.

And their father. And the blessed dogs .

Robert the Bruce knocked a teacup over with his tail, and Jamie scrambled to clean up the mess.

William Wallace decided he needed to see what had happened, and I sat back against the cushions and watched the uproar as boys and dogs met porcelain and silver.

Fortunately we had the disorder straightened before Louisa and Randolph joined us, followed by Uncle Harry talking over his shoulder to Kenneth Ogilvie behind him.

The boys leapt to their feet to greet everyone, and the dogs began barking.

We all shushed them at the same time. Kenneth Ogilvie watched the chaos and met my eyes, his full of amusement and warmth, and I felt a wave of comfort.

Harry was right to bring him here , I thought.

Kenneth radiated common sense and good cheer.

I didn’t think he could change anything, but at least we would have tried everything.

I was not allowed to see Alex again, nor was anyone else.

Gilbey told us only that Alex had been left alone.

I spent my time in enforced idleness. After months of simply looking pudgy, I was suddenly noticeably with child, my expanded middle impossible to disguise.

As a result, I had to curtail my visits to officials and members of Parliament for fear of offending them.

I felt fine, much better than earlier in the pregnancy, and I reflected again how very strange it was that society viewed a woman having a child as unsuitable for its company.

Adulterers, liars, and thieves could be welcomed under the guise of politeness or hospitality, but a woman bearing her husband’s child was someone to stash away until she was again fit for society.

Gilbey visited every night with the tidings of the day.

There was little to report. DeBroun seemed to have lost interest in his diversions, for neither Alex nor Murdoch were “questioned” again.

Alex was usually cheerful, but occasionally pensive, Gilbey said, recounting how Alex had once asked him to have Seamus pipe him home if he “took the low road.” Gilbey, himself rarely emotional, had been distraught, and I had comforted him while I tried not to imagine Alex facing his execution.

The days passed sluggishly, but October arrived at last. We expected each day to hear that Alex’s trial would begin the next.

It didn’t.

Suddenly all of London seemed to be talking about us.

Several of the small journals spent the week discussing, as they labeled it, the “Scottish problem,” personified by Alexander MacGannon, the former Earl of Kilgannon.

I was grateful that I was sequestered in Louisa’s home and did not have to face the curious hordes.

The Duchess and Sarah came to see me, but no one else.

Louisa’s friends were shying away from her, and I told her and Randolph that we must leave their home now or they might never be received in London society again.

Louisa laughed and Randolph assured me that there were worse fates than not being received by the Mayfair Bartletts.

The hardest part was not seeing Alex. I’d known that every visit might be the last, but I had never really believed it.

I smoothed a hand over my middle and tried to summon some strength, telling myself that Alex would be thankful to have the trial begin and the waiting end.

But I wasn’t thankful. While he had simply been imprisoned I could fool myself that one day he would be freed and we could go home, but I could pretend no longer.

Alex would be tried and when the farce was over, he would be executed.

I tried to remember the feel of his arms around me.

Will wrote that he would return for the trial and told me to keep smiling.

I knew he meant well, but the words rang hollow and I put his letter in a drawer without a second reading.

And I had other worries. I was dangerously low on funds.

I had little money of my own left and wondered how long we could live on charity.

All that money that I had thrown to uncaring officials was gone.

It seemed poorly spent now. The boys and the baby were my only real comfort.

Louisa and Randolph tried to be reassuring, but I knew them too well not to see that they did not believe their optimistic words any more than I did. And I’d heard nothing from Angus.

The journals were revisiting the events of the rebellion now, calling it the “Final Defeat of the Stewarts,” listing in lurid detail the dissolution and rout of the Jacobites, lingering on the lack of leadership and Stewart’s ignominious flight from Montrose.

Alex was described as devilishly handsome, an imprudent and violent man, and I was called by one writer “the innocent English gentlewoman that Kilgannon carried away to his lair in the wilds of the north,” as though Alex had stolen me away against my will.

I was not allowed to write to Alex nor he to me.

It seemed unnecessarily cruel. No one seemed to know when, or indeed if at all, his trial would begin, though we asked everyone.

At last I wrote to the court, asking the schedule and when I could see my husband. I did not expect the answer I received.

Two days later, on a bright and breezy October afternoon, when I was walking in Louisa’s gardens with the boys and dogs, Bronson hurried down the path to us.

“Madam,” he said in a solicitous tone that amazed me, “Lord DeBroun is here. He asked if Lord and Lady Randolph were gone before he asked for you. Do you wish to see him? Do you wish me to stay with you? I will happily do so.” I stared at him but before I could answer, Edgar DeBroun strode up the path toward us.

“Thank you, Bronson,” I said, watching DeBroun approach. “I’ll be fine. I will send for you if I need you.”

“Madam, I will not be far,” he said and bowed, his troubled eyes lingering on DeBroun as they passed on the path.

And then DeBroun stood before me and I looked up into his dark eyes, remembering the weals on Alex’s neck.

I felt at a complete loss. The boys stood protectively at my sides, watching him with wary glances.

Tread carefully , I told myself. You brought this upon yourself by writing to the court.

This man does nothing without a purpose. Find out what his is .

“Madam,” DeBroun said, his voice silky as he bowed over my hand. “How lovely to see you again. Do we not have a fine day? These are your sons? Or, I should say, Kilgannon’s sons?”

“They are, Lord DeBroun,” I said, introducing the boys, who bowed perfectly.

DeBroun smiled, gesturing to the gardens.

“I have interrupted your walk. Pray continue, only let me join you for a moment.” I nodded stiffly and we started down the path again.

As we walked he asked the boys a series of questions, his tone friendly.

The boys looked to me for direction and I nodded and tried to smile.

They answered politely. Yes, they both liked London, but Ian liked Scotland better.

Yes, they had seen the river and the city and St. Paul’s.

Jamie told DeBroun that they had visited their father at the Tower.

DeBroun nodded but did not comment further.

And then, just as casually as he’d asked all the other questions, he asked them if they would like to visit his estate in Cornwall.

With their stepmother, of course. It was, he said, on a cliff overlooking the sea and they could sail and fish.

I stared at him over the boys’ heads, the air suddenly chill.

I felt a tremor of fear run through me and I struggled not to shiver.

Dear God , I thought, is he saying what I think he is?

And this man will determine Alex’s fate? Tell me no .

“We can do that at Kilgannon, sir,” said Ian politely, “but thank you for inviting us.”

“Son, you cannot return to Kilgannon.” DeBroun looked at me over Ian’s head.

“You’ll be here in London or in Warwickshire, dependent on the charity of your stepmother’s family.

Perhaps you will miss the sea and want to visit.

With a close friend.” I stared into his eyes until William Wallace bounded away after a cat and Robert the Bruce followed, the boys chasing after them.

I watched the boys until they were safely out of earshot, then turned back to Edgar DeBroun.

“What exactly do you mean, sir?” Anger made my voice tremble.

He smiled in a smug manner, mistaking my shock for fear.

“Do not be afraid, madam. I meant only what I said. I would be most pleased to have you and your sons visit me in Cornwall when your…” He looked at my middle, and I took a shuddery breath, trying to master my rage.

“…schedule allows it.” He met my eyes again, his self-satisfied and amused.

“Do not mistake me, madam. I ask nothing of you now. But one day, perhaps soon, you will find yourself with no home in Scotland and your brother’s or your aunt’s hospitality tiresome.

One day you will be raising three children with no home of your own.

One day you will welcome the attentions of someone who admires you despite your liabilities, and then you will understand that I was most generous toward your husband.

I cannot change his fate but I can, possibly, persuade the others to be somewhat lenient with your husband.

Perhaps hanging instead of…With the understanding, of course, that if I were to one day visit you I would be received as a welcome friend.

” I stared at him, quite incapable of speech.

“I would be most kind to your children. All of them.”

My voice trembled. “Sir, are you asking me to marry you?”

He laughed and looked after the boys. “It was not marriage that I was contemplating.” He laughed again and stole a long look at my bosom before meeting my eyes.

“Of course, I would not rule it out. It depends. Perhaps we could discuss it.” I closed my mouth firmly before I could scream.

Mary , I told myself as I looked after the boys, remember who this man is.

Remember the bruises on Alex. Say nothing .

The baby moved within me and suddenly I felt very alone.

Tears of frustration ran down my cheeks before I could control them, and DeBroun’s expression changed as he watched me and he sighed as I fumbled for my handkerchief.

“Very well!” he snapped. “We will discuss marriage.” He sounded genuinely distressed and I stared at him as the absurdity of the situation overwhelmed me.

“Madam,” he said, his eyes drifting to my breasts again, “I am quite earnest. I will wait until you have recovered and then, despite your obvious political liabilities, I will have you. When all of this is over I will come to visit you and you will welcome me. I will give you back your place in society. You are very fortunate that I am so generous.”

I took a deep breath and proved myself unable to think as I gaped at him. “Madam,” he said as the boys and dogs returned to us, “we are agreed? Remember that generosity is a virtue and that one cannot help but be swayed today by promises of tomorrow’s pleasures.”

Be careful , I told myself as I met his eyes. Alex will pay for your mistakes . “I cannot think beyond my present circumstances, sir. I make no promises but I agree that generosity is a virtue.”

DeBroun bowed and smiled. “One week, madam. The trial will begin in one week. And it will be over one week after that.” He walked quickly away. I stared after him, my hands clasped at my heart. Alex , I thought. Oh, dear God, Alex .

“What did he want, Mama?” asked Jamie, watching DeBroun’s retreating back. I took a deep breath and willed myself to be calm.

“I … I don’t know, Jamie.”

“Well, I’m not going to any place in Cornwall,” growled Ian. “I don’t like him and I’ll bet his home is not like Kilgannon.”

“No,” I said, meeting his eyes. “It couldn’t possibly be.”

“Nowhere is like Kilgannon,” said Jamie.

“No,” I agreed, taking their hands in mine. “Nowhere is like Kilgannon. And no one is like Kilgannon.”