Page 12 of Two Nights with the Duke (Cherish and the Duke #3)
M alcolm strode across the elegant suite and opened the door to his worst nightmare. Worse than coming face to face with Ballantry or Burling with their pistols drawn and ready to shoot him in the gut.
“Bollocks,” he muttered under his breath.
Far worse.
He stared at Lady Bathurst and her sister, Lady Thurston, two utterly immoral and shameless sisters he had once bedded out of sheer boredom on one of his nights of drunken revelry at a demimonde house party that was better described as a week-long orgy.
Had he not just been thinking of his regretful actions and resolving never to reveal any of them to Jocelyn? Were demonic imps at work? For here stood two reminders of one of those regrettable nights.
The ladies appeared more gleeful than surprised, which meant Ballantry must have summoned them for the sole purpose of humiliating Jocelyn, of letting her know that her husband was a womanizing dog who would discard her as soon as he tired of her.
The pair ate him up with their hungry eyes, their ravenous appetites bared as predatory smiles appeared on their faces. “Then it is true,” Lady Bathurst said with a high-pitched laugh that grated on his ears. “Camborne, we could hardly believe it when the proprietor mentioned you had married our cousin.”
His head began to spin. “Cousin?”
These are Jocelyn’s cousins? The very cousins who had betrayed her with Ballantry?
Every vile Scottish curse he knew now ran through his head. This was bad.
In truth, bad did not begin to describe the pile of shite he had just fallen into.
Jocelyn had mentioned Ballantry’s bedding her cousins while betrothed to her, a remark that had angered him at the time because Jocelyn did not deserve this shabby treatment. Ballantry’s misbehavior was reprehensible, but the actions of her cousins were unforgivable. That Jocelyn was considered a harpy was no excuse for their shaming the lass. They were her blood kin.
He could not fathom a more complete betrayal.
Jocelyn did not appear pleased to see them, but came forward to greet them politely. “Cassandra, Millicent, do come in.”
Malcolm silently groaned. He wanted to get away from these Scottish tarts but dared not leave for fear of what they might tell Jocelyn. Was there a doubt they would tell her everything and delight in her pain?
He decided to remain and do his best to repair the damage they were certain to inflict.
“Are you truly married to Camborne?” one of them asked.
He could not recall which was Cassandra and which was Millicent. All he remembered was that they had big breasts and his face had been in them much of the time.
Oh, Lord.
Jocelyn tipped her chin up and said proudly, “Yes, Millicent. I am.”
Ah, the redhead was Millicent. The blonde had to be Cassandra.
The two of them were still eyeing him like he was their next meal.
“Last we saw you, you were fleeing your own wedding to Ballantry. What happened?” Cassandra asked, still eyeing him voraciously. “Were you and Camborne secretly lovers all along? How delicious.”
She licked her lips and tossed him a look that said she would like to lick certain parts of him, if he were willing to drop his trousers. “Not that I blame you for succumbing to that silver tongue of his,” she continued. “Or has he not pleasured you in that way yet?”
Dear heaven.
Now Millicent turned her wolfish gaze on him. “We thought Jocelyn was a virgin. She certainly had us fooled. Were you the one to pop her berry, Camborne? I’m not surprised she would choose you to be her first. You are irresistible.”
He took a step back when Millicent reached out to put her hands on him.
Jocelyn was staring at him in stunned silence. He moved to her side and placed a possessive arm around her waist, praying she would not slap it away. This was already worse than any slap he might receive.
She turned to her lascivious cousins. “I did not realize you knew my husband.”
Her cousins tittered. “Oh, we are well acquainted with him,” Millicent said, her meaning as subtle as a hammer dropped atop Jocelyn’s head.
“ Intimately acquainted, one might say,” Cassandra added with a catlike purr.
“ Intimately acquainted?” Jocelyn turned to stare at him once more.
“It was well before I knew ye, lass,” Malcolm said, wondering whether he should just shut up and find the biggest hole into which he could bury himself. Better yet, he ought to just magically disappear. Make some hasty excuse and clear out.
Perhaps it had been a mistake to stay, but would it not have been worse to leave her unprotected? What sort of family was this? A father who stole from his own daughter, and cousins who thought it was all in good fun to reveal they had slept with her husband.
No, he could not leave Jocelyn to these she-cats. He could not even think of that drunken night with these ladies—and he used the term “ladies” loosely, for there was not a shred of decency in them. Indeed, he could not think of the debauched things they had done without his stomach churning in revolt.
Lord. Lord. Lord.
Jocelyn held herself like a duchess, speaking to her cousins in a serenely polite manner while arranging to meet them later for tea as though absolutely nothing out of the ordinary had transpired.
She smiled and gave every appearance of remaining unaffected while escorting them to the door. But he could tell, despite the proud tip of her chin maintained throughout their conversation, that she was dying on the inside and would burst into tears as soon as that door closed.
All his fault.
Their suite was large, consisting of an elegant parlor, a balcony, private closet for their grooming and bathing needs, and a large bedchamber. It still was not large enough for him to hide away, to shrink to nothing and disappear.
He sank onto one of the plump parlor chairs, leaned his elbows on his thighs, and buried his face in his hands. “I’m so, so sorry, lass.”
He heard her release a ragged breath, but was too ashamed to look her in the eye just yet.
“I assume these are the cousins ye were talking about when ye mentioned Ballantry had partaken…dallied…broken faith with ye.”
She sniffled. “Yes.”
He groaned as he looked up at her, and then rose to walk to her side. “Truly, Jocelyn. I’m so very sorry,” he said, taking her in his arms to offer comfort and hoping she would not shove out of them in disgust. “I would no’ have hurt ye for the world.”
She buried her face against his chest and cried softly. “We weren’t married. You had never met me. How could you know?”
But he felt her ache, for it seared as deeply in his bones as in hers.
“I am not blaming you, Camborne.”
He was glad of it, but her forgiveness did not absolve him of his shameful behavior. “I know it still hurts ye. I regret my actions to the depths of my soul. I wish I could go back in time and take it all back.”
“But you cannot. It is done and cannot be undone.”
He sighed. “I was drunk and stupid. It is no excuse, nor am I trying to excuse myself. They meant nothing to me and I probably meant less than nothing to them. Not an ounce of feeling among us.”
He ought to shut up now. Talking about it would only make her feel worse.
He wished he could wrap her in his heart and protect her from this stinging hurt. But it was too late. While he had built protective barriers around his heart, she had built none around hers. Indeed, he had been constructing his barriers ever since childhood, and they were now too thick and solid ever to be penetrated.
But Jocelyn had no defenses and deeply felt every attack.
“Lass, ye are the only one I’ll ever take to my bed now that we are married. I gave ye this oath on our wedding day and I mean to keep it. I am never going to touch anyone else.”
She shook her head against his chest. “It doesn’t help me if it’s a lie. You’ll only hurt me worse.”
“It isn’t a lie,” he insisted. “I’ll keep faith with ye till the day I die. Please, Jocelyn. Ye have to believe me.”
“Why?” She began to sob. “I’ve woken up every morning and told you that I love you. You’ve never said it back to me. But I am not berating you for this. What hurts is that I still do not know whether you’ll want me with you at the end of the month.”
“But I told ye that I’d take ye to London with me.”
“I had to pry it out of you.”
Gad, he’d been so stupid. “Jocelyn, I want ye with me.”
“For how long?”
He let out a breath. “For as long as ye wish.”
“Not good enough, Camborne. What is it you want?”
He wanted her.
Why could he not just say it?
Instead, he listened to her cry.
“I wanted so much to be special to you,” she said between soft sobs. “How stupid of me to think I could ever stand out.”
“Och, lass.” He felt a resounding ache. “Ye are special to me. Are ye not the lass I married? Ye know me well enough by now to understand my nature. Ye could not have forced me into marrying ye if I weren’t willing. No matter the circumstances. I wanted to marry ye. What can I do to prove it to ye?”
“Nothing,” she replied between more sniffles. “There is nothing you can do.”
This hurt him deeply, for he wanted very much to be the best husband to her. Did she not deserve the best? And yet he had not even given her a bride token to commemorate their wedding. It was not something he had forgotten about.
In truth, it had been on his mind since the day they married. He meant to select something beautiful when they returned to London. But were there not decent jewelry shops in Aberdeen, too? Why delay?
He knew of a fine one not far from the inn. He knew of it because this had been his way of dealing with ladies he’d bedded. This was how he bought off his tarts—whether commoner, or gentry, or of the nobility—delivering each a pretty bauble after a night of frolic.
Was there a single one of them who’d ever wanted just him? Had any of them ever refused the gift?
As though cheap jewels could absolve him of all wrongdoing.
But he was not moving on from Jocelyn and would never treat her so shabbily.
Did he dare offer her jewelry? What he wanted for her was something meaningful, something that came from his heart. This bride token had to be a gesture of affection and respect for her. But would she consider it as that when she knew his method of operation around women?
“What can I do for ye to stop this ache?” he asked. “There must be something ye’d like. Something I can—”
“Don’t you dare think to buy me off, Camborne!” She angrily looked up at him through tearful eyes. “That is the worst thing you can do for me.”
“All right, lass.” He trailed his fingers lovingly along the nape of her neck. “Please, tell me what to do to make ye feel better.”
But he knew.
He had to tell her that he loved her.
Why could he not say it?
“I’m not blaming you,” she said.
“But ye are hurting so badly, I canno’ bear to see ye in this pain. Worse, to know that I have been the cause of it.”
“I’ll be all right in a moment.”
He did not think so. Her breaths were still ragged.
She had such a tender heart.
“I did not care when they amused themselves with Ballantry even knowing he and I were betrothed,” she said into his chest. “He is a worthless man and I immediately regretted entering into the betrothal. But even as the dread built up inside me, I was still too prideful to admit my mistake. I would have eaten the contract, if I could. Just swallowed it up and chewed it to nothing but pulp in my stomach to make it go away.”
He tipped her chin up so that their gazes met. “Lass, ye would have poisoned yerself.”
“I really did not care at the time. I think I felt at my lowest point after finding out my betrothed and my cousins had betrayed me. Yet it was also a release, in a way. A warning that I had brought this disgrace upon myself.”
“Dinna blame yerself and absolve their betrayal. They were the wrongdoers here, never ye.”
“You were not in the wrong either, Camborne. You had never even met me. And did I not tell you my cousins had loose morals?”
“That ye did, lass. But their morals are not merely loose,” he said with a groan. “They are completely nonexistent. They have no scruples whatsoever. How could they hurt ye like that and still come to yer door smiling? It is shameful. That I did no’ know ye at the time does no’ make it all right or make me feel any better. It reflects quite poorly on the life I have led up to now.”
“You were in the midst of changing it,” she reminded him.
“Still does no’ make me feel any better for the hurt I’ve given ye.” He kissed her softly on the lips, hoping she would not pull away in disgust.
“I’ll be all right,” she told him when he drew his mouth off hers. “It just galls me that my own cousins…” She emitted a sob.
“Och, lass.” He held her in his embrace a moment longer, offering no resistance when she drew away after a short while and cast him a vulnerable smile that made him want to take her in his arms again.
But he was the offender and thought it better to allow her to take the lead in their interaction.
She drew out her handkerchief and wiped her tears. “Ugh, and now I have agreed to meet them for tea later. My stupid pride again. I could not allow them to think they had hurt me. But they are going to smirk at me the entire time. I’ll die on the inside if they give me lurid details of your…prowess.”
“Blessed saints,” he muttered. “I was a pitiful drunk and probably made a complete arse of myself. In truth, I dinna remember half of what transpired. If they tell ye I was good, dinna believe them. No man that drunk can perform adequately. Ye could plead a headache and cancel.”
“And give them the satisfaction of knowing they had upset me?”
“I’d offer to join ye, but I think this would make matters worse.”
“It is a terrible idea. No, they’ll climb all over you. I’m surprised they refrained while in our suite just now.” She sighed. “I’ll be all right, truly. You had best deal with Ballantry and Burling.”
“All right, lass.” He could only hope her cousins would ride off with Ballantry, since he was obviously the one who had brought the vicious duo here. One of them was a widow and the other had a husband with one foot in the grave. Malcolm forgot which was which—not that it mattered, since they would both be widows soon.
Jocelyn’s cousins were two of the most mercenary women he had ever encountered in all his years of depravity and debauchery. However, he had to admire them in a perverse way. They were completely open about their immorality. They were selfish, hedonistic creatures who cared not a whit who they used or who they hurt.
They were also as sharp and ruthlessly determined as Napoleon when undertaking their objectives. The pair made him look like a pious saint in comparison.
He could not call them out for liars because they were honest in their utter lack of remorse. They never hid their intentions, and made no secret of using their sexual talents to gain rich husbands for themselves. Elderly, sick husbands who were quite generous in their marriage settlements. One was already a wealthy widow and the other would soon be one. It was only a matter of a months before the poor sod took his last breath.
He gave thanks that Jocelyn was nothing like this pair.
With a shake of his head and a pained sigh, he dismissed them from his thoughts in order to concentrate on Ballantry.
“Jocelyn, will ye stay with yer parents while I attend to the Ballantry matter?”
She pursed her lips and stared up at him, not at all liking the idea. “I can’t face my parents just yet. Besides, I do feel a headache coming on. Would you mind terribly if I just stayed here and rested for a while?”
After the unexpected visit from her cousins, he was in no position to deny her anything. “All right, love. I’ll try not to take too long. Lock the door and dinna open it for anyone but me.”
He gave her a final, gentle kiss and then strode out.
However, he waited until he heard the click of the lock before heading downstairs.
It did not take him long to find Ballantry and Burling seated in the common room sharing a bottle of champagne. The pair were already celebrating.
Prematurely, they would discover.
They had gone through the entire bottle, he realized by their sloppy smiles of greeting. Malcolm frowned, for he never liked negotiating with a man in his cups.
Yes, it might give him an advantage. But the sot usually got angry when he sobered and realized what he had done.
Well, nothing would be signed today. He only meant to talk over the terms of a settlement. His Aberdeen solicitor would set the arrangement down in a formal document.
“Ballantry, I’ve reserved a private study for our discussion. Care to join me now?”
Ballantry shrugged and rose. “Why not? Did ye enjoy my little surprise?”
Malcolm knew he was referring to Jocelyn’s cousins. “Delightful,” he responded wryly.
“I thought ye might enjoy the happy family reunion. I’ve got ye by the bollocks, Camborne. I mean to bleed ye dry.”
“If this is what ye think,” Malcolm muttered, leading him to a private area that served as a reading room for the inn’s guests. It had dark wood bookshelves and comfortable chairs. In the corner was a small table with more formal chairs around it.
Malcolm had reserved the space for an hour, although he doubted it would take very long to deal with Ballantry and send him back to Burling.
He had barely shut the door and taken a seat at the table when the oaf laughed and settled in the chair across from his. “I meant it when I said I aim to bleed ye dry, Camborne. I want one hundred and fifty thousand pounds for the trouble and humiliation ye and the harpy that ye stole from under my nose have put me through. I will no’ take a groat less.”
“Yes, you will,” Malcolm replied, casting the fool an icy look.
It took Ballantry a moment for the response to sink in. When it finally did, he snarled. “Do ye dare offer me less?”
“Very astute of ye. I’ll offer ye much less and ye’ll be grateful for it. After which ye’ll leave here without so much as a whimper of protest.”
“And why should I do that?” Ballantry’s expression was once again smug, but Malcolm sensed a hint of uncertainty by the slight narrowing of his eyes. “I’m not leaving without my reward.”
Malcolm leaned forward and regarded him with all solemnity. “Yer reward? Ye think to be rewarded for cheating on Jocelyn? Ye ought to get nothing for that alone.”
“I want my one hundred and fifty thousand pounds!” Ballantry pounded the table. “Do not play yer Silver Duke games with me.”
“No games played here.” Malcolm’s gaze never wavered from Ballantry. “Did ye think ye were safe from me? I know the secret that will destroy ye. The one ye’ve been hiding ever since ye inherited yer title.”
Ballantry cursed him. “What secret? Ye’re bluffing.”
Malcolm heard the slightest quaver in the man’s voice and had confirmation that his investigators had dug up the truth.
“Would ye like to know the particulars? Let me see if I remember this correctly. Yer mother was married to a man by the name of Abner Ferguson before she married yer father, who was the Earl of Ballantry. Problem is, Abner wasn’t dead when yer mother and father married. Nor had her marriage to Abner Ferguson ended. Which means Abner and yer mother were still lawfully married when she wed yer father. I expect it was an honest mistake—she probably heard Abner had died and had no reason to believe otherwise when years passed and he dinna return.”
Malcolm could feel the tomblike silence in the air. Indeed, it felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the room. He paused to await Ballantry’s response.
“Ye’ll never prove it, ye bastard!” Ballantry’s hands were curled into fists as he set them on the table, but Malcolm could see they were shaking. “I’ll kill ye for this, Camborne.”
“It will do ye no good. All the documentation is in the hands of my solicitors, and this information has also been sent to others I trust. If anything happens to me, the world will know yer secret.”
It had been ridiculously easy to discover it, in truth. An open secret just sitting there, waiting to be stumbled upon. Foolishly, Ballantry himself had led Malcolm’s investigators straight to it after storming out of Arbroth. He had run to Edinburgh, probably stewed about what to do for several days, and then decided to go to the church where his mother and Abner had married, no doubt to bribe the clerics into destroying the proof or hiding it. Terrence and his investigators had come upon the clerics while they were in the midst of removing the registry book where his mother’s prior marriage had been recorded.
It was almost too easy.
“Ye’ve told yer fellow Silver Dukes?” Ballantry asked.
Malcolm did not bother to answer. “What did ye think I was doing while in Arbroth these past two weeks? Merely entertaining my wife and her parents? Ye know me better than that. I was no’ going to let ye get the better of me.”
“No,” Ballantry said, his voice shaking. “Ye were going to destroy me. Ye were always a heartless bastard.”
“Aye, I am.” While Malcolm did have it in his power to destroy Ballantry, this was not his aim. Marriage to Jocelyn had indeed turned him soft. He wasn’t looking to destroy anyone, just free him and his wife from the entanglement of her prior betrothal. No court would uphold Ballantry’s betrothal contract once they learned the intended groom had misrepresented his status as an earl. That the bride’s father had also lied and misrepresented her dowry would be irrelevant and might possibly never come to light.
“But I can also be reasonable,” Malcolm continued. “Here’s my proposition to ye. I’ll take yer secret to my grave on the condition ye leave Scotland, never speak an ill word about Jocelyn again, and live out yer days on the Continent. I dinna care where ye choose to reside. Italy. Spain. France. Portugal. Wherever ye wish, so long as it is not here. By here, I also include England. Wales and Ireland are out, too.”
Ballantry’s face turned red as his fury mounted. “How is this reasonable? Ye’re banishing me from my own country!”
“Aye. I’ll not have ye crossing paths with Jocelyn again. Admit it, Ballantry. Ye haven’t been much use here anyway. Yer creditors are dunning ye wherever ye go. Yer friends are through giving ye handouts. Angry husbands are chasing ye, since ye’ve never been discreet in who ye bedded. Aren’t ye better off making a fresh start?”
“Ye still haven’t mentioned the most important detail. How am I to live overseas? Ye know I am destitute now. Why else would I bother to marry that harridan of a spinster who is now yer burden? How do ye tolerate her, Camborne? Or is it the fifty thousand reasons that make up her dowry that makes ye hard? It canno’ be the ice maiden herself. Will ye be shoving her in one of yer remote properties and returning to yer old ways now that ye’ve gotten what ye want out of her?”
Malcolm ignored the question. He had the upper hand in these negotiations, he reminded himself as the urge to shut Ballantry’s foul mouth with a solid punch overcame him. But he had already gone that route with Burling and wound up forced to marry Jocelyn to preserve her honor.
He was not going to allow himself to lose his composure again. Ballantry was to answer to him, not the other way around.
“I dinna suppose she’ll care if ye banish her,” the oaf continued. “She hates men, ye know.”
“She isn’t too fond of ye , that’s for certain.”
“And you, Camborne? Did ye stick yerself inside that cold witch? Did she freeze yer bollocks?”
Now, why did Ballantry have to say that? Malcolm wanted to leap to his feet and kill him.
But he held himself back, as difficult as it was. He had expected no less from this wastrel. The remark was designed to test his affection for Jocelyn. Ballantry’s sole intention was to regain some of the advantage he’d lost. But the cur would never gain any advantage over him.
“That remark just cost ye five thousand pounds.”
“Five that I dinna have in the first place,” Ballantry said, snorting. “Ye’ve offered me nothing yet. And ye know my estates are not in good shape.”
That was an understatement.
“How am I to live on nothing?” he insisted.
Ballantry’s nephew was trying his hardest to restore the estates, but he could not keep up with his uncle’s gambling and generally profligate ways.
“Here’s the rest of my offer,” Malcolm said. “I’ll give ye twenty thousand pounds if ye meet my conditions.”
“Twenty! The harpy is worth fifty!”
“Aye, but I am discounting the value of my silence about yer secret. The fact that yer father quietly married yer mother after Abner died is a tribute to his moral character, perhaps his love for yer mother. Yer parents did all they could to protect ye, even lying to the world to give ye undeserved preference over yer younger brother, who was born in rightful wedlock. They bestowed this enormous boon upon ye, and ye still turned out bad. They gave ye everything and ye treated it like rubbish.”
“Getting moral on me now, Camborne? Ye’re hardly one to lecture me. How did ye enjoy the harpy’s cousins? I’ll bet that pleased yer frigid stick of a wife. Did she toss ye out when she realized ye’d had them?”
“Mention Jocelyn again and that will cost ye another five thousand.”
The lass had been devastated. It sickened Malcolm to know he’d played a part in this dishonor.
“There’s my offer, Ballantry. Twenty thousand pounds and ye leave here forever. I have a solicitor in Aberdeen. I’ll have him draw up the settlement agreement. The funds will be doled out to ye in installments upon performance of yer obligations. Five thousand immediately to allow ye to set up residence somewhere on the Continent. Ye’ll receive the rest once ye’ve done so. If ye ever set foot here again, I’ll kill ye. If ye ever disparage Jocelyn, I’ll kill ye twice. Have I made myself clear?”
Ballantry looked mad enough to shoot him on the spot.
Indeed, Malcolm saw the cur reach below the table as he attempted to retrieve the pistol sheathed in the lip of his boot.
“I would no’ do that if I were ye,” he warned, and raised his hand to show his own pistol already drawn. “Ye’ll forgive me for not trusting ye.”
Ballantry spewed a string of curses before acknowledging his defeat with an angry grunt. “I’ll take the twenty-five thousand ye first meant to offer.”
“That is off the table. Ye insulted Jocelyn and that cost ye five. Ye’ll take the twenty thousand and be grateful for it. I suggest ye grab it while I still have a mind to be generous with ye.” Malcolm rose. “Well, that about does it. Oh, and another thing. My solicitor will have the settlement agreement ready by tomorrow afternoon. I’ll be reducing my offer by five thousand pounds each day ye delay signing. Twenty thousand if ye sign tomorrow. Fifteen thousand if ye sign the day after. Ye get the idea. Any harm comes to me or Jocelyn and the parties holding the proof of yer mother’s marriage to Abner will go straight to the gossip rags…and yer nephew, too. The lad thinks his father was second in line to inherit the earldom, when in truth, his father was the legitimate son and should have inherited, not you. Yer nephew is the rightful earl now that his father has also passed on. Do not tempt me to tell him.”
“Bastard.”
“Oh, and I think I will add another provision. Ye’re to take it easy on yer nephew. If I hear that ye’re running up yer debts again, I’ll give him the proof and let him take the earldom out from under ye. He’s a hard worker and deserves to inherit something more than the shambles ye’ve made of it. Ye’re going to live well on the settlement funds and the money he’ll be sending ye from the Ballantry holdings once they turn a profit.”
Malcolm studied Ballantry’s expression.
He had the look of a defeated man.
“I think we are done now,” Malcolm said. “I suggest ye keep out of my sight this evening. Ye dinna want to rile me, or ye’ll get nothing at all.”
He strode out of the reading room and stepped outside for a breath of air, glad the worst was over. He had thought long and hard about how to handle Ballantry, knowing he could have saved himself the twenty thousand pounds by exposing his mother’s bigamy. But that would have besmirched the reputation of a good woman and left him with no hold over Ballantry once that secret was out.
Malcolm wanted to maintain that hold. The man needed to keep away from Jocelyn.
The meeting hadn’t taken long, so he expected she was still napping. He decided not to disturb her. Besides, there was something more he needed to accomplish, and there was no better time to do it than now.
After a quick visit to his Aberdeen solicitor to convey the settlement terms, he strode toward the main shopping street and the odd little duck of a jeweler who knew him quite well by now, Solomon Haggard.
A little bell rang above the door when he walked into the shop. “Good afternoon, Mr. Haggard.”
The wizened old man tipped his visor up and straightened to his full, albeit diminutive, height. “Yer Grace, so nice to see ye. I have some lovely pieces to show ye,” he said, speaking in a mix of accents that included Scottish, French, and perhaps a little bit of Prussian.
Malcolm nodded. “Yes, show me what ye have.”
Smiling, the jeweler scampered into his back room and came out with several items that he set out atop a swath of black velvet. These were gaudy pieces, the sort Malcolm might have purchased for a paramour, but would never do for Jocelyn. “Show me something elegant, something less…obvious.”
“Ah, not too expensive?”
“Something tasteful . This is for my wife.”
“Yer wife?” The man regarded him numbly for a moment and then his eyes widened. “Ye’ve married ?”
Malcolm arched an eyebrow and smiled. “Aye, Mr. Haggard.”
“Felicitations and many years of happiness, Yer Grace! That is… Er, well… I dinna suppose ye had planned on it, being a Silver Duke and all. But ye’re smiling, so I dinna think ye find the situation too objectionable. She must be someone quite special.”
“She is,” he admitted, his heart warming at the thought.
The jeweler gathered up the first samples and hastened into the back room as he called out, “I have a few pieces that will be perfect for yer wife. A price above rubies.”
Dear heaven.
What did he mean? Something priceless? Malcolm would box the man’s ears if he brought out a diamond necklace or another expensive piece. Such obvious trinkets would never sway Jocelyn.
To his surprise, Haggard revealed several beautiful brooches and lockets. Which one to choose? Malcolm had never bought tasteful jewelry for someone he actually cared about. “Are ye married, Mr. Haggard?”
“Aye, Yer Grace. Going on forty years now.”
“A love match?” Malcolm asked, eager to pick the man’s brain.
“Aye. Caught sight of her at a county fair in Dundee. She had lovely red curls that shone in the sun, and the most beautiful smile this side of heaven. She’s the one, I said to myself. I knew it then and there—I would love her into our dotage. I dinna care if every last strand of her lovely hair turned gray, which it has now. She’s more beautiful than ever, and still has the best smile this side of heaven.”
“That’s quite a love story,” Malcolm muttered.
“It wasn’t without its stressful moments. Took a while to convince her to marry me because I had stiff competition. The butcher’s son was also courting her, and I was a mere apprentice at the time. I thought I had lost her for certain. He was richer, and she would have had an easier life with him.”
“But she chose you. Has she ever told you why?”
The little man nodded. “Och, it was the first thing I asked her. Do ye know what she said?”
Malcolm grinned. “I would no’ be asking ye if I had a clue.”
“Nor did I understand it,” the jeweler said, shaking his head. “But here is what she told me: ‘Ye look at me, Solomon. Ye talk to me and care for my thoughts. Ye think of me in everything ye do.’” He paused, smiled, and shook his head again. “Well, it was true. I did think of her back then and still do. She was in my every waking thought, and remains so to this day. But I dinna realize it mattered at all to her.”
“Apparently, it did.”
“She will always be first in my thoughts. I was besotted, and still am.”
Odd how this old, wizened fellow understood women better than Malcolm, a Silver Duke, ever had. But what Haggard said made a lot of sense. Jocelyn’s cousins would have gone for the rich butcher, but not Jocelyn.
Perhaps developing a loving relation with his wife was as simple as remembering to put her first. It would not be difficult, for she asked so little of him.
“Which one of these pieces would ye purchase for yer wife, if ye were to do the choosing?” Malcolm asked Haggard.
“Och, that’s an easy choice, Yer Grace. The gold heart locket because she is sentimental. I would say to her that I was giving her my heart to keep close to hers for all the years of our marriage and beyond.”
Sadly, Malcolm did not think Jocelyn would believe him if he spoke those words to her. But she was sentimental and would be pleased to hear something romantic from him. It did not require flowery prose. This was not him, and she would never believe him if he spouted poetic nonsense. “I’ll take the heart locket.”
“I’ll wrap it in a pretty package for ye, Yer Grace. If she is as softhearted as my wife, she will love it.”
Malcolm was in better spirits by the time he returned to the Balgownie Arms. A little over two hours had elapsed since he left Jocelyn. Eager to see how she was faring, he took the stairs two at a time and strode down the hall toward their suite.
He tried the door and found it locked.
She was likely still napping, but it was a good two hours since she had taken to their bed, so he did not hesitate to rouse her. “Jocelyn,” he called quietly while knocking on the door. She would hear him if she were awake.
It was not long before he heard footsteps pattering along the wooden floor of their suite.
“Jocelyn, it’s me,” he said, knowing she was probably close enough to hear him.
“Oh, goodness. How long was I asleep?” she murmured, letting him in. “The afternoon shadows are stretching across the balcony. How did your meeting go with Ballantry?”
“Productive, I think. He has to know he isn’t going to get a better offer from me. I have every reason to believe he will accept the terms.”
“What did you propose?”
He shut the door to afford them privacy, and then settled beside her on the parlor’s settee. It was a feminine piece of furniture, blue silk and delicately framed. Jocelyn looked quite lovely seated in it. Her cheeks were pink and her hair tousled. Her lips had a rose blush to them, lips just aching to be kissed.
So he kissed her, a tender kiss, but did not linger too long upon her mouth. “May we speak of Ballantry later? I have something I’d like to say to ye first.”
She eyed him warily, but nodded. “But you will tell me what happened, right? You are not merely stalling because you did something stupid, are you?”
He chuckled. “Lass, yer lack of faith in me cuts to the marrow. I did no’ punch him, if that’s what concerns ye. He walked out angry but unharmed.”
She nodded. “Very well, tell me the other thing on your mind.”
He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and withdrew the prettily wrapped box. “This is for ye, lass.”
She frowned. “Camborne, do you think I am angry with you because of my cousins and are now trying to buy me off?”
“No, it isn’t like that at all. Just open the box, Jocelyn.”
She eyed him curiously, still frowning. “What’s in it?”
“Open it and ye’ll see.”
He watched her eagerly, hoping the gift would please her.
As she opened the box, he said, “This is my heart. I give it to ye freely and forever, lass.”
He thought it would delight her, but she stared at the locket for the longest time and then burst into tears. “You clot! You big, wonderful Scottish clot! Why did you have to go and do this?”
He raked a hand through his hair. “I thought ye’d like it. I can take it back tomorrow, if it does no’ meet with yer approval. You and I can go together and choose something ye’ll like.”
She clasped the locket to her bosom. “I love this locket. Don’t you dare take it back.”
He raked his fingers through his hair again. “Then why are ye crying?”
“Because I love it and I love you . I did not think you had it in you to be so…thoughtful.”
Dear heaven. Was he that much of an inconsiderate dolt?
He knew he was arrogant. But so arrogant and full of himself to think about no one other than himself? This had probably been true at one time.
Not now. He was trying to be a better man.
She smiled at him, a smile as bright and lovely as a moonbeam. “It is the most wonderful gift I have ever received.”
He breathed a sigh of relief.
“I will always wear it close to my heart. You could not have chosen a more perfect gift, Camborne. Thank you.” Her smile turned impish. “Who knew you were quite the romantic?”
“Romantic?” He eased back on the settee and struggled to contain his laughter. That wizened old jeweler was the one with the soul of a romantic poet. Gad, the man looked like a broomstick with half the bristles fallen out.
Jocelyn threw her arms around him and hugged him fiercely. “It is a beautiful gift, and so considerate of you.”
“Lass, I have to tell ye that I had help choosing it.” He then explained what Haggard had told him about his own wife. “He helped me select the locket.”
Jocelyn did not appear at all disappointed.
“So ye see, it was no’ my doing.”
She shook her head. “It was all your doing. Do you not understand?”
He groaned. “Explain it to me. Ye’re smiling at me so sweetly. What did I do right?”
“You thought about me. You sought advice from someone who was in love with his wife, and you wanted the same for me. You understood me well enough to know that I would smash a vase over your head if you had given me something glittery and gaudy, as though I were a paramour of yours that you were merely trying to mollify.”
She hugged him again, then drew away and cast him another impish grin. “I wouldn’t really have smashed a vase over your head. You’re too big for me to reach that high. Just don’t tempt me by standing too close to ladders.”
He laughed. “Thank ye for the warning.” He drew her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her lovely body that he had grown to know so well and adore. “Jocelyn, I’ve been an idjit .”
He then kissed her soundly.
She held on to his shoulders as she leaned into the kiss and welcomed it, her inviting lips meeting the probing heat of his.
She sighed when he ended it, and leaned her head against his chest. “You haven’t been an idiot. Are you still overset about what you did with my cousins?”
“That will always be to my shame. But that’s not quite what has me bothered. I know we’ve only been married two weeks, a mere fortnight. In that time, ye’ve admitted that ye love me.”
She sat up and tipped her chin in the air. “I am not embarrassed by it.”
“Nor should ye be. It is the loveliest gesture imaginable. But I’ve said nothing in return to ye, lass.”
“You weren’t ready.”
“But should I not be ready? I’ve taken ye into my bed and loved ye in physical ways. But I left open the question of what is to happen to us in the next month, in the next year…or for the rest of our lives. This has left ye to wonder whether I’ll be leaving ye to return to my old ways. I’ve given ye my oath that I wouldn’t, but I’ve also given ye so many reasons to doubt me.”
He felt the tension flowing up her spine as he held her in his embrace. “I’m never going to leave ye, Jocelyn. That locket is a representation of my heart that I now freely give to ye. Ye already had my vow to protect ye and keep ye safe. But that is a vow I might give to anyone I felt a duty to protect. What I owe ye, what I wish to have with ye, is something different. With this locket, I give ye my heart.”
Her eyes widened and then began to sparkle.
“Aye, lass. With this locket, I give ye all of me.”
She cast him a warm smile. “Camborne, that’s a lot of you to handle.”
He laughed. “Think ye can manage?”
“I sincerely hope so.”
“Och, lass. Ye can. Ye’ll have me twisted around yer little finger in no time. I should no’ have let on, but I dinna care. I’m actually liking this marriage arrangement. Ye deserve to be first in my thoughts.”
“As you are in mine, Camborne.” She handed him the locket and then turned her back and angled her neck so that he could fasten the clasp. “Will you help me put it on?”
“Of course, lass.” He gave her a light kiss upon the neck before proceeding.
“I’m going to wear it every day from now on,” she said, obviously pleased.
“It will no’ go with yer more formal gowns. We’ll get ye finer pieces for those once we arrive in London. Ye know how formal those ton affairs can be.”
She shook her head. “Whenever I cannot wear it openly, I’ll tuck it into my chemise and tie it with a ribbon so that it rests over my heart.”
He laughed. “Jocelyn, it isn’t necessary. I’m pleased ye like it, but I will understand if ye have to take it off on occasion.”
She turned to him. “No, Camborne. I will always wear it.”
“Ye’re very sentimental for a harpy,” he teased.
“I know, but so are you. Sentimental, that is. And I have one more thing to say to you.”
He arched an eyebrow. “What is that?”
She reached up and pressed a kiss to his mouth. “You are the best husband, and I am so glad I happened to fall into your bed.”