Page 45 of The Wild Rose of Kilgannon (Kilgannon #2)

SEVENTEEN

W e were a sober group at Louisa’s that evening, even Harry made quiet by the day’s events.

Gilbey and Matthew snuck in to join us and we revisited the day over and over.

After dinner we sat in the library, discussing it yet again.

Kenneth Ogilvie was reading his notes, and Angus withdrew to the window.

I joined him and after a moment met his blue eyes, so like Alex’s.

“Lass, do ye trust me?” he asked quietly.

“Always,” I said and he nodded with the ghost of a smile.

“Then promise me one thing, Mary,” he said. “If I tell ye to stay or to go somewhere, will ye do it without questions?”

“No,” I said and watched the anger flash in his eyes. “No. I’ll still ask questions. But you don’t have to answer them.”

He shook his head at me, the anger replaced by amusement.

“Fair enough. At least yer consistent, lass,” he said, then moved away to withdraw with Randolph to a corner while Louisa talked with Matthew and Gilbey.

I returned to the couch, and sat staring into the fire, looking up when my view was blocked.

Kenneth stood before me with a quiet smile .

“A very interesting beginning,” he said.

“A disaster already, sir,” I answered.

“No, no, not at all, Lady Mary,” he said, sitting next to me. “Quite the opposite.”

“What do you mean?” I asked as the others gathered around us, Angus and Randolph standing with folded arms before us.

“Well,” said Kenneth, “you pointed it out yourself, Lady Mary, and it may yet be important. Alex’s name was incorrect.”

“Yes, but what matters—”

“What matters is that the indictments were brought against a man who does not exist.”

I stared at him. “Does that make a difference?”

Kenneth waved a hand. “I believe Alex’s lawyer can apply to the court for dismissal of the charges.

It’s unlikely they will be dropped, but Alexander Ian James Keith Fraser MacGannon was not indicted this morning.

If Alex is found guilty, perhaps we can prove that the man who is guilty of treason does not exist. Stranger things have happened.

After the rebellion of’88, several rebels were let free because of stupid errors by clerks.

We’ll make note of it and see what happens. ”

“We ken what will happen, Ogilvie,” growled Angus.

“Not for certain, Angus,” said Kenneth, unperturbed. Angus shrugged. I looked up at the lawyer, fearful of hoping.

“I will speak to the barrister in the morning,” said Randolph.

Tuesday was little better. Alex’s lawyer had agreed to discuss our concerns about the name with the judges.

When the time was right. I made no comment when Randolph told me.

The day in court, a very long day, was spent determining that Alex had been seen with Jacobites.

Alex appeared bored, but I watched with a growing terror.

It was true. They would convict him. At the end of the day, as he was led out, I tried to smile, but I’m sure my face showed my thoughts. Alex lifted his chin and waved.

That night I dreamed of being in his arms in the Tower, of him next to me, about to kiss me, his hair falling about his shoulders as he moved.

I could feel the hair on his chest as he leaned against my breasts and his quiet chuckle when the baby moved and we could both feel it.

I woke, cold and alone, to feel the baby move again, and I stared at nothing, trying to conjure Alex back to me.

Wednesday morning London buzzed with a new topic.

Richard Steele, one of the authors of The Spectator , had taken up Alex’s cause in his journal.

Steele, notorious for selecting those of questionable virtue in society and raising them to a pedestal where they were endowed with every quality desirable in a member of a civilized society, had declared Alex the “New Scotsman,” a breed of man never seen before.

Alex, Steele stated, embodied the courage and intelligence necessary for a leader, even for a leader of an unknown and unaccomplished group of Scots on the border of beyond.

“We are forced, once again, to consider that cold land to our north,” wrote Steele.

“What to think, when an uneducated man such as Kilgannon, though fair of form and face as he is, raises the very issues that so many of us have discussed behind closed doors?

That the Scots, long a thorn in the side of the royal personage and those that sit in Parliament, should be unhappy in the union so swiftly imposed upon them, is of no surprise to any thoughtful Londoner.

But that a man such as Kilgannon, on trial for treason against that very union, can express his discontent not only with our royal leader but with the other claimants of that position, is of the utmost interest. One scarcely knows how to address such a situation.

If the Scots view themselves as not of this union, then this latest insurrection will not be the last, but only one in a continuous series of rebellions designed with only one purpose, the annihilation of that aforementioned and despised union, and without complete direction as to the desired leader in the resulting void.

“Kilgannon refuses to be cowed by our courts. He is of a breed apart from us, a breed both civilized and violent, which will take arms over ideas and asks to be left alone with its own kind. It will be a futile attempt to fashion these Highland lairds into English gentlemen. Perhaps we should follow the pattern of the Romans and leave them to their northern climes. Perhaps we would be better to let those not of us be separated from us, lest we all perish in the attempt for affiliation. Why not leave the barbarous Scots to their own devices rather than to pretend that we can fuse in peace? We would be better to have them as allies than subjects.”

Steele’s essay was so well received that the other papers joined him with their own flourishes and even the more prosaic suggested that perhaps the Union should be reconsidered.

That day at the trial it was determined yet again that Alex had fought with the Jacobites, and he met my eyes with a shrug as he was led away at the end of the day. Nothing, it appeared, not even boredom, would hurry these judges.

That evening Louisa’s maid came to my door, her eyes huge. “Lady Mary,” she said, wringing her hands, “Lady Randolph requests your presence in the library at once.”

I rose, alarmed. “What is it?”

“I don’t know, madam, but the Duke of Grafton has just arrived as well. Please hurry.”

In the library I found Louisa and Randolph, and Uncle Harry. And Bronson. Their expressions were serious and Louisa seemed distraught. Harry was agitated as he paced the room, rubbing his arm. When he turned to me I could see that he was angry as well.

“Mary,” Harry said in a tight tone before anyone else could speak, “I’ve heard a very strange story this evening.”

“What is it, Harry? What have you heard? Is it news of Alex?” But Harry did not immediately answer me. I looked from Harry to Louisa and saw that she had been crying. “Is it Alex?”

“No,” said Randolph, shaking his head. Harry broke in before Randolph could continue.

“I realize we have not always been close, Mary,” Harry said. “But I hope you know I am very fond of you and your brother.”

“Yes, Uncle Harry,” I said, confused, “and we of you.”

“I had assumed that. So, you can imagine my surprise upon hearing tonight that you have not told us something so very important. Or is it perhaps not true?”

“What? Is what not true? ”

“Mary, my dear,” said Randolph, “Bronson told me this evening that Lord DeBroun came to you shortly before Alex’s trial began and asked you to marry him sometime in the future. Is this true?”

I looked at Bronson, despising him for his meddling. He looked away. I turned to Randolph again. “Yes,” I said.

“You may leave us, Bronson,” said Randolph.

The butler moved to the door, meeting my eyes as he passed me. “Lady Mary,” Bronson said, “I told Lord Randolph because I felt that Lord DeBroun had acted most unwisely and that he put you in a very difficult position. I thought it was for the best.”

I nodded coldly. I would deal with Bronson later. The look of hurt in Louisa’s and Randolph’s eyes lacerated me, and I wondered for the first time if I had been right to conceal DeBroun’s visit. When the door shut behind Bronson, Harry whirled around to face me.

“How did you answer Lord DeBroun, Mary?” he demanded.

“I didn’t, Harry,” I said and told them of DeBroun’s visit, my answer and my concerns.

Harry nodded, chewing his lip and rubbing his arm thoughtfully, his anger visibly dissipating. “You understand that you should have told me?”

“Or me,” said Randolph.

“Or me,” said Louisa faintly and my heart sank. I had not meant to hurt any of them, and I said as much.

“You should have come to your family,” said Harry. “What’s the use of being a duke if your family doesn’t come to you with its problems? I am not without power. You should have come to me.”

“I was afraid for Alex, Harry. I thought if I was harsh in my refusal then DeBroun would be hostile to Alex. ”

“And you thought that if you were pleasant to him, he’d be lenient to the man whose wife he covets? Surely you cannot have thought this?”

“I did not know what to think. It was unexpected and unwelcome and it caught me off guard. I still am not sure what I should have said.”

“You should have burst into tears and driven him away.”

I smiled wryly, remembering. “I did burst into tears. He had not asked me to marry at first.” Harry gaped at me, his face now florid. Randolph rose to stand before me.

“He asked you to be his mistress?” asked Randolph, his voice hoarse with indignation.

“I’m not sure, Randolph. I was so stunned that I started crying and then he told me we would discuss marriage.

He might have intended that all along.” The men exchanged glances and Louisa wiped her eyes with her handkerchief.

“I did not know what to do. I did not tell you,” I said, looking at each of them in turn, “any of you, because I was afraid of what you might do. Anything that you do now to DeBroun will jeopardize Alex. Can we not simply pretend it never happened? I have made no agreement with the man. After…after the trial, I will tell DeBroun my true feelings, and when I do, believe me, he will not trouble me again.”

Harry came to me then and patted my arm while Louisa and Randolph exchanged a look. “My dear,” Harry said. “One cannot expect a woman to understand a man like Edgar DeBroun, but I understand him. What a turn of events. Actually, though, it plays into our plans. I still say you should have told me.”

I nodded. “I was afraid you’d feel you had to avenge my honor. I did not consider his proposal for a moment, Harry, but I was afraid to tell him so because of Alex.”

“Of course. Well, well, my dear. This is an interesting development.”

“What will we do?” asked Louisa.

“What can we do?” Randolph answered, looking to Harry for agreement. But Harry just smiled, taking his leave soon after that, saying he would think of the best course of action overnight.

Alone with Louisa and Randolph, I listened with remorse as they chided me for not telling them.

We discussed it into the night, Randolph growing more furious with DeBroun as the hours passed.

They wanted me to leave London immediately.

But where would I go? Betty was ill at Grafton, and Mountgarden was too far away.

I refused to leave until the trial was over.

Then, I told them, I would surely be allowed to see Alex again.

I would not leave London before that and asked them if they wished me to leave their house.

Louisa embraced me then and Randolph told me that I would be going nowhere.

On Thursday morning, the city still abuzz with Steele’s essay, the trial was the place to be seen and I was one of its chief attractions.

People talked behind their hands as I passed, but I tried to ignore them all, though I heard laughter behind me and felt my color rise.

Damn them all , I thought. Ghouls, every one of them, happy to feed on my grief .

The testimony that morning determined that Alex had never signed the two letters that had circulated the Highlands, one acknowledging Sophia as the Electorate, the other welcoming George as king.

Alex had never sworn his loyalty, to George or to Sophia, argued his lawyer, and had never been asked to recognize the succession.

“Nor,” he said, “was Kilgannon among those Scottish nobles who accepted English money to assure that their clans would not rise in rebellion and then did so.”

But the judges were not listening. They talked among themselves, except for Edgar DeBroun, who watched Alex constantly.

The others listened only when Alex’s lawyer told of Alex’s trip to France in 1710 as an emissary of Scotland’s goodwill toward Queen Anne and brazenly mentioned that Alex saved Duke John’s life.

I watched Alex stare ahead as all of this was discussed, knowing that he would never have suggested the topic himself, and wondering who had told the barrister.

The Duchess beamed when curious glances came her way.

That afternoon the examination of Alex’s treason was put aside for the discussion of the second charge.

Several witnesses discussed the “murder” of Douglas Campbell in Brenmargon Pass.

The absurdity of the charge made me angry every time I thought of Alex, outnumbered and thinking he was doomed, facing Robert’s men and striking down the one who attacked him.

Next to me Angus muttered to himself. Several Campbells, two of whom had testified earlier that they had seen Alex at Sherrifmuir, told the same story, that they had been pursuing Alex to bring him to trial in Edinburgh.

In the pass, they said, he had faced them appearing to surrender and then striking Douglas Campbell, who had approached Alex to talk.

Alex’s lawyer questioned the men and brought out the facts, that Alex was one man against the fifty pursuing him and that he had only lifted his sword when the Campbell was bearing down upon him with weapon raised, but the impression of Alex as dangerous lingered and I knew Alex’s lawyer had not sufficiently swayed the judges.

I only half-listened to Alex’s lawyer’s request to call only one witness on this charge and to Lord Webster’s agreement.

The bailiff cleared his throat and announced that Lord Robert Campbell would take the stand. I met Alex’s eyes across the room. He gave me a crooked smile and drew his hand across his throat.