The Wild Rose of Kilgannon (33 page)

He released me. "I canna, Mary. It's too late for that now."

I clung to him then and sobbed while Louisa patted my back protectively. Eventually I quieted and stepped back from him and we all sat down again, discussing what next to do. Louisa told Angus she agreed with me, and Angus nodded but said the deed was done. Randolph poured Angus more whisky.

"Angus," Randolph said, handing him the glass. "Why does DeBroun want revenge on Alex?"

Angus waved a hand. "It was a long time ago."

But Randolph persisted and the
story
came out slowly.
When Alex was twenty, before he'd married Sorcha, Angus said, he and Angus had stopped in London after a successful trading journey.

"We played cards at the home of a friend, and DeBroun was there. He and Alex were at one table, I at another, when Alex accused DeBroun of cheating. Now, mind ye, we'd done a bit of drinking, but false accusations are no' like Alex. I believed him, but others dinna. Alex threw the table over and lunged at DeBroun and found cards stashed in his waistcoat. DeBroun was humiliated before all his fine friends, but the worst of it was when the woman who had been DeBroun's
favourite
..." He paused and met my eyes. "She went home with Alex."

"I see," I said, remembering DeBroun saying what an agreeable surprise it had been to meet me. I'm sure it had been.

"I thought ye might," Angus said.

"But it's been ten years," Louisa said.

"He's no' forgotten," Angus said. "Nor have we."

My instincts had been correct, I thought. DeBroun was neither overwhelmed by my beauty, nor a man in love. I had been a tool, a means to wound Alex further; I was to be part of his revenge. I shook my head as my hatred of him grew. But now I understood.

"What will the court do now?" I asked.

"
Harry
's back," said Randolph. "He'll find out. The court won't talk to me, but they will to him."

My head snapped up. "What do you mean, Harry's back? Where is he?"

"
Harry
said he'd invent a story about having been at Grafton to see Betty. His staff will confirm that," said Angus. "I left him this morning at the cottage; he should be in London by now. He said the best thing to do was brave it out. No one would dare to accuse him of kidnapping DeBroun."

"They all but have," I said and told Angus of the soldiers' visit to Louisa and Randolph's house. He nodded and I realized Randolph must have told him already. "What will happen now?"

"The court will have to continue the trial with or without DeBroun," Randolph said, looking from me to Louisa. "There's more news. The papers have been busy again. Steele has taken DeBroun on as the scourge of humanity, and so have the others. Much of London has rallied for Alex, which the judges cannot have helped but hear. DeBroun will not be able to show his face for a long while. Whether it will change anything for Alex, I do not know."

Angus left us then and Randolph went to see
Harry
at his town house. But Harry was not there.

The next night, Matthew came to visit, creeping in after dark through the kitchens. He stood before us in the library with an unhappy expression. "My da wants ye to go to Mountgarden," he said to me. "That's why Pm here. He

said ye may have questions but I dinna have to answer them and that ye'd ken what that means."

I thought of my promise to Angus, and I nodded. "I'll leave in the morning," I said. Randolph and Matthew both sighed with relief.

But I didn't go to Mountgarden, for the next morning we discovered that Harry was dead.

H
ARRY DIED ON HIS WAY HOME, ALONE, IN HIS coach on the London road. He'd told Angus he would return to London, but instead he'd stolen another visit with DeBroun and they had
quarrelled
bitterly. Duncan, who had been guarding DeBroun, had helped Harry when he had grasped his arm and fallen to his knees. Harry had rested for a while, then assured Duncan he was fit to travel. When Duncan had implored him to wait until Angus or Matthew returned, Harry had refused and climbed into his coach. And died on the journey.

When his driver had discovered that Harry was dead, he had returned to Duncan, who had told him to go to Grafton, as though Harry had been there all along. Will brought the news himself, arriving in London in the early morning hours. Betty was recovering nicely and he thought we should hear about Harry from him. I'd stared at my brother as he told us, and tried to believe it. Oh, Harry, I thought, lam so sorry.

By the next day the news that Harry had died was all over London. Randolph spread the tale that Harry had died at Grafton, and there was no one to dispute it. Harry's staff at his estate had confirmed the story and so had Betty, who said he'd been visiting her. She was
apparently
quite convincing, for the soldier who had questioned her did not return, and we were not bothered by any officials as we prepared for Harry's funeral.

We buried my uncle Harry with great pomp, as he had wished, at Grafton. Most of London's elite was at the funeral. Draped in black, a veil over my face, I stood as inconspicuously as possible while Will, now the Duke of Grafton, was addressed as Your Grace. Will was a duke, I thought, and Betty a duchess. We had known that this day would come eventually, but we could never have imagined that it would come about in such a fashion. Few guests spoke to me at all, and Will and Betty had no time, but I was not alone. Angus was with me, and Kilgannon men hovered uneasily at the edge of the crowd, dressed as Englishmen. Gilbey rarely left my side. Kenneth Ogilvie, who we now discovered had been
recently
acting as Harry's solicitor, was never far away. And I had my guilt for company. But for me Harry would be alive now. But for me.

At the graveside I stood with my brother and thought of my father's family. Only Will and I were left of the Lowell line. And the baby I carried. It was with a great sense of family loss and the passage of time that I threw my handful of dirt into my uncle's grave. Harry, I said to the coffin, lam so sorry.

The trial was to resume the following Monday, when, it was said, the verdict would be announced. The funeral guests talked of
little
else than Harry, Alex, and DeBroun.
Apparently
the word had flown through the city that DeBroun was somehow responsible for Harry's death and that DeBroun's conduct toward me had been despicable. Many thought him to be in hiding, and the great weight of London's public opinion fell at last on Alex's side. If, the papers said, Alex had cravenly saved himself by going to France and I had joined him there, DeBroun would never have approached me and Harry would not have felt he had to avenge my
honour
. And Harry would be alive today. The masses loved it and Harry's status in London was approaching heroic. Harry would have laughed.

Three days later we were back in London. I withdrew from those who had accompanied us from Grafton, wishing that Will and Betty had not had to stay at
Harry
's estate to deal with the transition legalities, and retired upstairs. Late that evening, after all the guests had left, Randolph brought Angus to me and left us to visit. Angus kissed my cheek as I greeted him, then set-tied into the chair opposite me without a word. His presence was comforting, but I found I did not want to know what was happening in the outside world. I had no desire

to know how he'd gotten here, or what he'd been doing with DeBroun. We watched the fire for a long time before Angus stretched and then put his clasped hands on his stomach.

"We still have DeBroun, lass," he said. "We've kept Duncan from him, so he's no' been harmed though he's a bit disagreeable these days." I nodded. "The verdict will be announced Monday, but ye ken that. No word has been sent to me. They still hold Alex."

"What will you do?" I asked quietly

"Whatever we have to, lass. Dinna ask me more." We sat in silence for a bit, each lost in his own thoughts.

"Angus," I said at last, "what is the low road?"

He blinked. "Where did ye hear that, Mary?"

"From Gilbey. Alex asked him to have Seamus pipe him home if he took the low road. What does that mean?"

Angus sighed and answered slowly. "Some believe that when a Gael is far from home, there are two ways of returning. One is aboveground, called the high road, and only the living can do it. The other is the low road and ye must be dead to take it. It's when the fairies take ye home. But yer spirit is
restless
sometimes then and it's best to be piped home as well."

"Alex said that if he dies, he wants Seamus to pipe him home."

Angus met my eyes and nodded. "Should that day ever come,
Mary
, we'll see that it's done. But I'm trying to prevent that." I nodded, unwilling to argue with him tonight. We sat in silence until he spoke again. "When is yer babe due, Mary?"

"Sometime mid-month November. About two more weeks." I met his eyes but could not tell what he was thinking.

"Mary, I ken ye'll wish to be at the verdict." I nodded. "But, lass, will ye leave London then? Will ye go to the boys and be with them? Ye ken I'm going to try to free Alex, even if it's on the scaffold, Mary, and I need a free hand to act."

I agreed without argument and he nodded in satisfaction. We sat for a moment and then he looked at me again. "Mary, ye ken, if the worst happens, ye might be raising the boys on yer own?"

"Yes. I think of it often and wonder if these brothers will be like Alex and Malcolm. Angus, why does Malcolm hate Alex so much?"

Angus considered as he stretched his legs before him. "Alex was never his father's favorite. Katrine was Ian's darling daughter and when she died he was angry with his sons for still living. Jamie, Alex's brother, dinna count with his father, for he, was afraid of most everything and Ian despised that in his son. Malcolm got used to being the center of attention and having all that he wanted." He shrugged. "I thought he'd grow out of it, ye ken, and take the responsibilities of manhood when it was time, but Malcolm never wanted them. He just wanted whatever Alex had. I dinna ken what makes the man so, Mary, but those are the things I saw. And Alex never did see them, though I tried in my way to tell him. I should have told him straight out." He sighed. "And those are the things ye must avoid in raising his children. If yer correct and this one yer carrying is a boy, you'll have three brothers to raise, and it would be only natural that ye'd favor the one who is yer own blood."

I met his worried look. "They will all be my sons, Angus. I will never favor one. Each is as dear as the other."

He nodded. "Good. And we will visit often, ye ken."

"Where will you be?"

"Alex gave us each a ship, so I imagine we'll be trading with the continent like always. I dinna ken what the future will hold, but I have few regrets. I've had a good life, except for losing my Mairi and my children, and if it ends tomorrow the only things I'd sorrow for are no' seeing my son full-grown and no' following my own instincts and taking Alex from the English when we could."

"That was his decision."

"And a poor one. No' all of his decisions are correct, ye ken."

I laughed softly. "No."

He rose stiffly. "I'll be going now, lass." He paused at the doorway. "I'm sorry about Harry. I was fond of him. He was a good man and I'll miss his company."

I nodded. "As I will. Thank you, Angus. As always, thank you."

He left me with a wave of his hand.

As late as Sunday part of me had not yet given up hope, and although I knew all reason said there could be only one verdict, I still thought it possible that public opinion might sway the judges and they might free Alex. But by Monday morning I was as resigned as everyone else. I sat in the dining room, staring through the windows at the gardens, waiting for the time to leave. At last Randolph touched my shoulder and gestured to the door.

Westminster was chaotic. Outside the Hall crowds milled, straining to get a glimpse of the proceedings. I saw no one I knew as we pushed my way to the guard, but I heard the comments as I was recognized. Inside it was calmer, although the same air of expectation filled the anteroom. They were better dressed indoors, but no less anxious for the news. I recognized many faces here, but no one would meet my eyes. I held my head high and tried to remember what a goddess look felt like, looking neither to the right nor left as I walked behind Louisa down the aisle they created and into the Hall itself.

We found seats in a row toward the front. Strangers moved kindly aside to let us pass, though I did hear whispers announcing who we were. It must not have been
very
long that we waited, but it seemed like an eternity. At last there was a shuffle of feet as uniformed soldiers, heavily armed, moved in to line the walls of the floor of the court, many more than had ever been present before. The judges filed into the dais, their faces unreadable. There was still an empty chair. The lawyers and clerks entered until the courtroom floor was filled. And the crowd waited, the tension palpable. Alex was brought in then, his back straight. He scanned the room once then focused on the gallery, nodding a
t someone. He does not know I am
here, I thought. The crowd stirred restively and from somewhere on my left came the cry, "Set him free!" in English and then in Gaelic. It sounded like Matthew and I turned to see if it was but saw only a sea of faces. I turned back when a voice came from the dais.