Mine Is the Night (46 page)

“Aye.” She was quieter than usual, though glad enough for his company, it seemed. “You’re here on a mission,” she said, perceptive as ever.

Only then did he notice the slates scattered round the room. “What’s this?”

“Measurements for the remaining gowns.”

So few
. An ache spread across his chest. “Are you in a hurry to leave Bell Hill?”

Her blue eyes widened. “Not at all, milord. The lasses are eager for their gowns, so I spent most of yesterday measuring each one.”

Jack told her the truth to see where it might lead. “I hoped you were avoiding Rob MacPherson.”

“Aye, that too.” She pressed her lips together as if reluctant to say more on the subject.

He took a seat. “I spoke with Mr. MacPherson just now. We discussed your mother.”

Her hands stilled. “And?”

Jack related their conversation, withholding nothing, though it pained him to see Elisabeth’s skin grow pale and her eyes fill with sorrow. “This is not the end of it,” he promised her. “I cannot by law remove a woman from her husband’s home. But I can send a trustworthy man north to watch over her.”

“You would do that?”

He nodded, wishing he might clasp her hand or touch her cheek. Anything to comfort her. “What good is money if it cannot be spent on a worthy cause?”

“But you give so freely,” she said, shaking her head as if confused.

“I’ll not be thought of as generous, Bess.” He leaned forward, determined to make himself understood. “Just as I said on the day we met, anything you receive from me is God’s blessing, not mine.”

She wasn’t quite satisfied. “It still passes through your hands.”

“Then I have only to leave them open so the Almighty may do as he pleases.” Jack held out his hands, palms up, meaning only to illustrate his point.

But Elisabeth slowly placed her hands in his.

He dared not move or breathe or speak, lest he frighten her away.

When she bowed her head, he did the same, closing his eyes, reveling in her gentle touch.

“Almighty God,” she whispered, “protect and provide for those I love. Whatever is to come, Lord, I know ’twill come from you.”

Jack longed to draw her closer, to hold her in his embrace. Instead, he lifted his head and honored the One who’d brought her into his life. “Trust him, Bess.”

“Always,” she promised, her hands still resting in his.

lisabeth woke at dawn on Wednesday morning, having slept poorly. All through the night she’d shifted about in her chair, seeking a more comfortable position, trying to escape her troubling dreams. Rob MacPherson appeared in most of them: a brooding figure wearing shapeless attire and a permanent scowl.

“Is he still convinced you’ll marry him someday?” Marjory inquired over their bowls of porridge. “He may be a dozen years younger than Lord Buchanan, but I fear Rob has nothing else to recommend him.”

Elisabeth winced at her mother-in-law’s heartless assessment. “Mr. MacPherson was a good friend to us in Edinburgh.”

“Michael Dalgliesh has befriended the Kerr family as well,” Marjory said, “but ’tis not why Anne married the man.”

After finishing the last spoonful of porridge, Elisabeth gulped down her tea, mindful of the hour. The sun rose a little later each day, yet she was still expected at eight o’ the clock. “Anne is joining us for supper, aye? I should be home earlier than usual since Lord Buchanan has invited guests to share his table, and so will not likely detain me. Sir John and Lady Murray are bringing their daughters.”

Marjory made a slight face. “I suppose the sheriff is hoping Lord Buchanan will offer for Rosalind, even though she’s half his age.”

“You were eight-and-ten when
you
married,” Elisabeth reminded her
gently. “And Lord John was more than twenty years older than you.” She leaned across the table and clasped Marjory’s hand. “Of course, Gibson is far younger than that. Handsome, too, if you’ll not mind my saying so.”

A smile found its way to Marjory’s face. “He
is
fine looking. And kind. And attentive.”

Elisabeth wished she too might speak of the man who’d captured her heart. But Lord Jack was not a manservant; he was a peer of the realm, who deserved someone like Rosalind Murray. Even though he seldom mentioned her, Elisabeth had watched Lady Murray’s relentless campaign unfold all summer. What gentleman with eyes in his head could resist such a prize?

After the breakfast dishes were cleared Elisabeth left for Bell Hill and stopped by Walter Halliwell’s shop to deliver a plate of fresh ginger biscuits. “Mrs. Kerr made an extra dozen,” she told their landlord, “thinking you might enjoy them.”

“Most kind,” the wigmaker said, popping a small biscuit into his mouth. A moment later, still chewing, he asked, “Are ye bound for Bell Hill? Might I trouble ye to deliver a wig to his lordship?”

When he handed her a gentleman’s peruke wrapped in a cloth bag, Elisabeth had little choice but to take it. She had no objection to the errand, only to the rather personal nature of the item. Bidding the wigmaker farewell, she stepped out of his tidy shop and into the close that bore his name, hoping she might deliver the peruke to Roberts or Dickson and so avoid any embarrassment.

But it was not to be.

As she reached the gates leading to the mansion, Lord Jack trotted up on Janvier. Taking his morning ride, it seemed, without coat or hat, the full sleeves of his shirt ruffling in the breeze. “What have you there?” he asked, his gaze resting on her round bundle. “Balls of yarn to amuse my cat?”

“Nae, ’tis something for you,” she said, holding it up. “From Mr. Halliwell.”

“Ah.” He claimed the bag at once. “Shame on Walter for turning my talented dressmaker into an errand boy.” As Janvier pawed at the ground, clearly
eager to stretch his legs, his lordship surprised her with an invitation. “Might you join me for dinner at two o’ the clock?”

“If it pleases you,” she said, thinking of someone who would not be at all pleased.

Even without a watch like Mrs. Pringle’s in her apron pocket, Elisabeth knew the dinner hour was approaching. The nearby kitchen was in a frenzy, with Mrs. Tudhope at the center of it.

’Tis time, Bess
. She bathed her hands, prayed for a calm spirit, and started toward the stair, greeting everyone she passed, hoping to dispel any rumors.

It was not a sin to share a meal with her employer, she told herself. Footmen and maidservants would be in and out of the dining room from one course to the next. The two would never be alone. In an hour dinner would be over, and she could return to her sewing, her only regret a too-full stomach.

“Bess?” A whisper, nothing more.

She turned at the foot of the stair and discovered Rob moving toward her. “What is it?” she asked, certain he meant to speak of his letter, of his plans for the Americas.

His voice was low, yet his tone harsh, strident. “D’ye not ken what they’re saying, Bess? From one end o’ the hoose to the ither?”

“Please, Mr.—”

“They’re calling ye his leddy. D’ye ken my meaning?”

His mistress
. She swallowed. “I do understand, but ’tis not true.”

He inched closer. “Can ye say there is naught
atween
ye? Nae luve at a’?”

Elisabeth straightened, meeting his gaze without apology. “Whatever may be in our hearts, you can be very sure our behavior has been utterly chaste. Lord Buchanan honors the Lord at all times, and I hope I do as well.” She took her skirts in hand, her thoughts halfway up the turnpike stair. “You must forgive me, but his lordship is expecting me this very moment.”

“We’ll speak o’ this again, Bess,” he said, more warning than assurance.

She fled up the steps, praying she was being honest with herself and with the Almighty.
My thoughts are honorable, Lord, yet I do care for Lord Jack. Very much
.

By the time Elisabeth reached the dining room, she was breathless, not from exertion, but from anticipation. “Milord,” she said, offering him a low curtsy, if only to calm herself. She was soon seated facing a window overlooking Bell Hill’s gardens, then was served a glass of claret, which she politely declined.

“None for me either,” Lord Jack told the footman, then settled into his chair at the head of the table, the carved wooden back arching above him at a regal height. “ ’Tis the middle of the day, and I would have my wits about me.”

“As would I,” she agreed.

They smiled at each other across the table while dishes came and went in a steady flow. He told her stories of his years on the
Centurion
. Of tumultuous seas and fearsome storms. Of torn sails and lost trade winds.

“Were you ever frightened, milord?”

He paused, his water glass halfway to his lips. “If I say nae, I’ll appear proud. If I say yes, a coward.” Lord Jack took a long sip, then admitted, “Aye, there was a moment when I feared our ship might founder on the shoals near Tinion. But God is faithful and came to our rescue with a stout wind that pushed us out to sea.” He put down his empty water glass, swiftly replenished by a silent footman. “What frightens you, Mrs. Kerr? Not poverty, it seems. Nor hard work.”

“Nae.” She dabbed at her mouth, unable to eat another bite. “As the Buik says, I have learned to be content.”

He nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. “You’ve too many friends to ever fear loneliness.”

“Friends, aye,” she said softly.

“What of Mr. MacPherson?”

His question caught her off guard. “Milord?”

“Is he a trustworthy man, this Highland tailor? For I must say, if there is anyone or anything you seem afraid of, ’tis him.”

Afraid of Rob?
She shook her head. “He would never hurt me. As for trusting him.” She paused, not wishing to cast doubt unfairly. “In all our dealings in Edinburgh, he always honored his promises.”

By the look on his face, Lord Jack saw through her careful wording, but he did not press the matter. “Are you quite sated?” he asked, eying her dessert plate, where only a smudge of lemon cream remained.

She smiled. “I’ll not need supper, if that’s what you mean.”

“Nor will I,” he admitted, “though it seems I’ll have guests at my table this eve.”

Elisabeth waited, hoping he might say something about Rosalind Murray. That he abhorred her, that he adored her—anything to put the subject to rest. On second thought, Elisabeth did
not
want to hear the latter. Nae, she did not.

When she started to rise, the admiral quickly did the same. “A fine meal, milord,” she told him.

He offered her a courtly bow. “With even finer company.”

Only then did she happen to gaze out the window and notice an abrupt change in the weather. Low, gray clouds were scuttling across the heavens, and a sharp wind lashed the tree branches against the outer walls of the house.

“We’ll have rain before nightfall,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “Let me have the carriage brought round for you at six o’ the clock.”

Elisabeth hesitated, tempted by his generosity, yet not wanting to give the household more fodder for their gossip. “Nae,” she said at last, “for ’tis an easy walk and all downhill.”

“You are certain, Mrs. Kerr?”

She stole another glance out the window. “Aye.”

efore the kirk bell tolled the hour of six, Elisabeth flew out the servants’ entrance, anxious to reach home. The skies were black with clouds, the sun had all but disappeared below the horizon, and the temperature had plummeted since she’d left Halliwell’s Close that morning. A storm was coming hard and fast from the west.

Why had she refused his lordship’s kind offer of a coach? Too late now, for she did not care to interrupt him with the Murrays expected. Rain was merely water, she reminded herself.

Elisabeth hastened across the lawn, clutching her hat in one hand and her sewing basket in the other. She’d promised to alter one of Anne’s gowns that evening after supper and would not disappoint her. Then she looked down and realized her scissors weren’t dangling round her neck.
Nae!