Highland Heat (15 page)

“What day is it?” he asked abruptly.

The major glanced at the clock. “It's after midnight, so Wednesday now. Wednesday morning.”

The mail left tonight—on Wednesday mornings, at two a.m. That gave him less than two hours to get himself ready and to the coaching inn in Manchester.

He stood. “I must go. Now.”

Giving him a soft smile, Lady Campbell rose, hugged him, and kissed his cheek. “Promise you'll make my sister happy, Duncan,” she murmured into his ear.

He closed his eyes. “I vow I will do everything in my power to do so.”

“Thank you,” she said, and released him.

He glanced over at the major, whose expression was hard as steel. Duncan gave him a short nod, and he nodded back. The major's look wasn't hard to interpret. He was giving Duncan a great responsibility, entrusting him with his sister-in-law, when a month ago he would have considered their match an impossibility.

Duncan would not fail him. More important, he would not fail Grace. Not this time.

Duncan arrived in London at six o'clock on Thursday morning. It was too late to sneak into the Earl of Norsey's house—the staff would already be up preparing the morning meal. In any case, the mail coach had been filled to the brim with mail and passengers, and he stank of sweat.

He took a hackney to the Highland Knights' house in Westminster, where he was greeted at the door by Bailey, who looked completely unsurprised to see him. He took one look at Duncan and said in a dry voice, “I shall have a bath drawn for you, sir.”

Duncan thanked him profusely before going into the kitchen, where the cook whipped him up some kippers and eggs. By the time he finished, the bath was ready, and he stripped off his clothes and sank gratefully into the warm water. He scrubbed himself until his skin shone, then he fell into his bed and slept until one o'clock in the afternoon.

When he woke, he dressed in his clean kilt and shirt, and chose his better jacket and sporran. Then he caught a hackney to Mayfair.

He arrived at the Earl of Norsey's house as a formal caller. The butler answered and made him wait at the door while he went to see if Grace was “at home.”

Duncan waited impatiently, shifting from foot to foot, until the butler returned and said, “Right this way, sir.”

He led Duncan to the drawing room, which was empty, and left him there, closing the door behind him.

Duncan tried to sit. Then he paced the floor, anxious. He looked out the window, trying to distract himself with a pair of hummingbirds that were drinking nectar from the flowering foxglove plants outside.

That didn't work for long. He resumed pacing until he heard a door open behind him. He spun around to see Grace, looking lovely, as always. She wore a simple white muslin day dress with a pink sash around her waist and matching pink slippers. Her hair was up, and curled blond strands framed her face.

Duncan's heart rate sped up. Christ, she was a bonny woman.

But her expression was dark. He stared at her for a long moment, and she stared back at him. Finally, she closed the door with a
snap
and turned back to him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in Manchester.”

He took a deep breath. “I'm here to apologize.”

She raised a brow.

“I was wrong, Grace. Forgive me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Wrong about what?”

“I was wrong to leave you as I did. My reasons for doing so were wrong.”

“No. You were right. My father would probably kill us both. If the major didn't do so first.” She glanced back at the door. “My father is at home today. I expect him to come in here at any moment and ask what you're doing here.”

“I'm here for you,” he said quietly.

“Well. Here I am.”

Her voice was aloof and cold, not at all what he'd expected. But what
had
he expected? Her to leap into his arms so he could carry her off into the sunset?

He moved closer to her. She backed up against the door. He approached until he was an arm's length from her and reached over to caress her cheek. “I missed you.”

She blinked hard. “Yes, well. I haven't missed you.”

He jerked back as if she'd struck him, and her expression instantly softened. “Oh, Duncan. I've been
trying
not to miss you, but I have. I've missed you so much. I can't help it. I've been terribly angry with you, but I've missed you so very much.” Her eyes shone with emotion. “And I despise myself for missing you. I should hate you.”

“You should hate me,” he agreed. “But I hope you will forgive me.”

“No.” She shook her head rapidly. “I shouldn't hate you. That's far too strong a word. Because I understand your reasons for walking away from me…from us. I do. I just—” She broke off, gulping in a breath as if she was about to weep.

“Oh, love,” he murmured, and took her into his arms. “I was wrong. So wrong. I hate that I hurt you. I wish never to hurt you again.”

She buried her face against his shoulder, wrapped her arms around his neck, and held him tighter than she ever had.

Just then, the door handle turned.

They jumped apart and away from the door right as it opened. The earl took a step back when he saw them so close. Then he frowned. “Why are you weeping, child?” he asked Grace in a hard voice. He reached into his pocket, withdrew a handkerchief, and handed it to her.

“Thank you,” she sniffed, taking it and dabbing at her damp eyes.

The earl scowled at Duncan. “Have you brought us some bad news, boy?”

“No, sir,” Duncan said.

“Then why is my daughter weeping?”

“I just…” Grace gulped in a breath and said, “I was so happy to hear that Claire and the major are well and happy together. They'd been struggling for so long, and I was worried that things might fall apart again when they went to Manchester.”

Well done, Grace.
He'd had no words, but she'd come to his rescue. Bonny, brave woman.

“But”—she slid a glance at Duncan—“Mr. Mackenzie has come to bring us their greetings and to let us know they're doing very well, indeed.”

The earl gave Duncan a skeptical look.

“Aye, it's true. And…” Here he had to tread carefully, since they were forbidden from sharing details of their mission with anyone—earls included. “Our assignment in Manchester is going better than anticipated. The major plans to send Lady Campbell back to London soon, and we should be following in the next few weeks.”

Grace gave a tremulous smile. “Oh, she can come with us to Norsey House when we go. It'll be nice to have Claire home for the house party, won't it, Papa?”

“Indeed,” the man said stiffly, but Duncan questioned whether the earl had heard any of what Grace had said. Grace had assured Duncan that her father truly adored Grace and her sister—
“He loves us in his way,”
she'd told Duncan on one of their nights together—but it certainly was difficult to see beyond his rigid demeanor.

Grace straightened, and Duncan watched as she donned the mask of hostess. “Can I offer you refreshment, Mr. Mackenzie? Shall I order tea?”

Damn it. How was he going to tell Grace what he needed to with her father present? Duncan opened his mouth to answer, when the earl raised his hand.

“No. I should like to have a moment to speak with Mr. Mackenzie alone. If you'll excuse us, Grace?”

It wasn't a polite question—it was a command, if the man's steely voice gave any indication.

Grace flicked a glance at Duncan and then bowed her head demurely. “Yes, Papa.” And before Duncan could blink, she'd slipped out the door, leaving him alone with the earl.

Damn.

The older man strode to the other side of the room. “Brandy, Mackenzie? Oh, wait, you lot prefer whiskey, don't you?”

“Brandy'll be fine, thank you.” It was two o'clock in the afternoon, and Duncan didn't want a drink right now. He wanted a perfectly clear head. He'd come to London to accomplish a task, and he'd prefer not to drink until the task had been completed. But he didn't want to be rude to the Earl of Norsey, either.

The earl poured him a tumbler of brandy and brought it to him with an order. “Sit.”

Duncan sat. The earl took the armchair across from him and sat in silence for a moment, his stare assessing as he turned his glass in his hands.

Finally he said, “I've seen the way you look at my daughter, Mackenzie.”

Duncan clenched his hands around the tumbler, saying nothing. The earl hadn't asked him a question, so he had no intention of giving him a response.

“I fear Grace is developing somewhat of an infatuation with you as well.” The edges of the earl's lips turned down in disapproval. “She has been flighty and disorganized since you departed for Manchester. She may believe I don't notice these things, but I do.”

Duncan took a small sip of brandy, needing something to do other than sit there as still and rigid as a statue.

“And this weeping…” The earl gestured in the direction his daughter had gone. “What was that truly about?”

Duncan gazed evenly at the man. “That is between Lady Grace and me, sir. I wouldna break her confidence.”

“Hmm,” the earl said. “I can't say I like the sound of that.”

Duncan tilted his head in response but kept his expression flat.

The earl swallowed half of his brandy then set the glass down firmly on the small table beside him. Then he looked at Duncan, his expression forbidding. “I realize this might be rude. That you're an associate of my son-in-law's and therefore would traditionally be welcomed into my home.”

Duncan tensed and waited for the
but
coming.

“But,” the earl said calmly, “after today, I don't want to see you within a mile of this house ever again.”

Duncan took this in, then nodded. “Understood.”

“Good. Because I would hate to have to take stronger measures to keep you away from my daughter. But rest assured, if it's necessary, I will. She is well respected in London, in the
ton,
and in this house. I will not have her or her reputation compromised.”

Duncan nearly winced, because he had already compromised Grace. He'd thoroughly debauched her. He managed to keep his expression flat, though. “I hope you will someday change your mind.”

“When one of you is married, perhaps.”

When both of them were married, perhaps? To each other? Duncan hoped so but looking at the earl now, at his expression of extreme distaste and his hard stare, he doubted it. Grace loved her father, and Duncan would hate to see their relationship destroyed. Grace would suffer if she had to lose her father. But the earl had put her in the position where she had to choose between them—Duncan hadn't done that.

She'd known this was a choice she had to make. And she'd chosen Duncan. He should have given her the respect of acknowledging that when she'd proposed to him.

Duncan set his barely touched glass of brandy aside and stood. “Will that be all, sir?”

The earl did not rise. “Yes, I believe so.”

Duncan tilted his head in farewell, and left the room with the earl still seated on his chair. The butler was nowhere to be found, so Duncan let himself out of the house.

The house he might never enter again…after tonight.

“What did you say to him?”

With a weary sigh, Grace's father looked up from the papers spread out over his desk.

“Grace, I am very busy today—”

“I know, but you are always busy. Or at your club. Please tell me what you said, Papa, then I vow I shall leave you alone.”

Her father clasped his hands on his desk. “I told him he was no longer welcome in this house.”

Her hand flew to her chest. “What? Why on earth would you do that?” Oh Lord. Did her father suspect…?

“Because I am not a stupid man, daughter. The two of you seem to have developed a ridiculous infatuation. It must stop, immediately.”

“Oh, Papa.” She sank into the armchair across the desk from him, feeling utterly defeated. How could she explain her feelings about Duncan to her father? He'd dismiss them as foolish and frivolous.

He pointed a long finger at her. “You are an earl's daughter, or have you forgotten? You've a place in society. A position.”

Which she no longer cared about. But she had once, so she couldn't deny her understanding of his point of view. “Some things are more important than position,” she murmured, looking down at her hands, which were fidgeting with the lace eyelets on her skirt.

“No. There is nothing more important than our position. We have influence and power in our country. That is an obligation and honor we must take seriously.”

“You are the earl. You're the one with the influence and power, Papa. Not me. My second cousin is your heir and I hardly know him. When you're gone, my position will mean nothing.”

“You will always be my daughter. And you underestimate your influence, Grace—you always have. You have been a model of propriety your entire life. Other ladies look up to you. Now you wish to destroy it with a Scottish commoner.” He slapped his hand on the desk. “You're better than that!”

“He's more than a Scottish commoner,” she argued. “He's a Highland Knight, a defender of the realm. It's a highly respectable position.”

Her father snorted. “That position gives him no title. He's a subordinate of the true knights that make up that brotherhood. Do not think those men have forgotten their places. Your brother-in-law and the other officers hold legitimate positions in society. The two enlisted men will never attain those positions of power. Don't let him convince you that he's better than he actually is.”

Grace pressed her lips together. Duncan had never tried to convince her he was anything but himself. But telling her father that wouldn't help.

This would go nowhere. Her father would never change his views. She wouldn't change hers. But it looked like Duncan had changed his. He'd come back to her.

She slowly rose from her seat. “Thank you, Papa. I understand. Though I cannot say I agree.”

“Grace—”

She raised her hand to stop his words. “I don't think we'll come to an agreement on this matter. I don't wish to argue with you, Papa. I love you very much, and I respect your position. And that is all I will say on this matter.”

Her father inclined his head in acknowledgment, though he didn't look at all ready to put the topic to rest. “Very well,” he said, “but know I will be enforcing a separation between the two of you. I will not abide you being in the same house together anymore.”

“I understand,” she said. An immense sadness made her shoulders droop. This would just mean that she and Duncan would need to be even more secretive, and it made their betrayal of her father that much more overt. She took a deep breath. “Will I see you at dinner?”