Treasured (14 page)

Isobel took her hand, squeezing it, and Elizabeth sent her a grateful smile.

“Of course, he did not stay. But he promised that he would return as soon as he could. And he gave me his pocket watch. He kept the winding key, though, and he said he was stopping time until he came back to me. It was his pledge to return.” Elizabeth let out a little sigh. “He never did.”

“But this is proof that my grandfather returned from France!”

“Yes, dear, I told you that many times.”

“Yes, but . . . you said that the others didn’t believe you. How could they not when you had his watch?”

“I didn’t tell them. I should have, I know.” Elizabeth sighed. “I was afraid that if I showed it to them, they would take it away. I was just a child, and I thought they would not let me keep so valuable an object. Besides, Papa had given it to me and told me it was our secret, his pledge that he would return. In my child’s mind, I feared that if I told anyone, he would never return. If I held it close to me and kept it safe, he could still come back.” She shrugged. “Foolish, I know, but children think differently.”

“No, not foolish,” Isobel assured her. “I understand.”

“After I was older . . . well, it always made Mother sad to talk about him. She said she had not seen him that night. I thought, What if he really hadn’t gone to see her? Or if he slipped into her room to see her as he did with me, but she had not awakened. I thought she would feel worse, knowing she had missed the chance to see him again. Besides, I wasn’t about to give people the satisfaction of trying to prove my words. Let Uncle Fergus and the others think what they liked. I knew the truth.”

“Look.” Jack, who had been examining the watch, held it out to Isobel, opened to reveal the works beneath the face. “There is its trademark beside the number:
Le Roy
. And at the bottom:
Paris
.”

“Did he purchase it while he was in France?” Isobel’s voice rose in excitement.

“I don’t know.” Elizabeth frowned. “I cannot remember whether he had always worn it or not. Perhaps he did buy it there. It would make sense.” She gazed off into the distance, then shrugged. “But that is all past. Now is what is important. What do you think—is there time to make you a new dress? David Grant’s wife is very quick with a needle, but have we any material suitable?”

“I am sure one of my dresses will do fine.”

“Oh, but we must! A bride must have a dress made for the occasion—though you must not see it until you put it on, of course, but we can fit it from one of your other dresses. I am sure Mr. Kensington would want to see his bride in something lovelier than ‘fine.’ ”

“He will not care,” Isobel put in, which earned her a quizzical look from her future spouse.

“Miss Rose,” he said smoothly, “you are quite right. Isobel deserves the most elegant of frocks. However, I would hate to delay the wedding for the dress. My eagerness to make Isobel my own outpaces my desire to see her clothed as she deserves. Besides”—he looked toward Isobel with the lazily teasing smile to which she was growing increasingly accustomed—“I know that Isobel will be beautiful whatever she wears.”

“Very prettily put,” Isobel retorted with some asperity.

“Yes, it is.” Her aunt beamed at Jack. “But we will manage
it, never fear. Mrs. Grant and I shall put our heads together.”

Isobel’s eyes drifted over to Jack, who had returned to studying her grandfather’s pocket watch, absently rubbing his thumb over the raised figures. He was not, she thought, as immune to emotion as he chose to believe.

If her aunt had not reacted to the engagement in the way Isobel had expected, there were certainly no surprises in Cousin Robert’s reception of the news. The day after the banns were posted, she saw Robert’s carriage lumbering up the road to the house.

“Cousin Robert is here,” she announced to her aunt, who was happily embroidering the neckline of a lawn nightgown.

“Bother!” Elizabeth poked her needle into the material and set the hoop aside. “I knew that man would make a fuss.”

“I suppose we might as well go down. ’Tis pointless to put him off.”

They had reached the foot of the stairs just as Robert handed his hat and gloves to Hamish. “Isobel!” he barked, striding over to her. “What can you be thinking! Posting banns! To marry that English usurper!”

“You should be thankful, Cousin,” Isobel told him lightly. “After all, now you will not have to worry about my reputation, sleeping under the same roof as an unmarried man.”

“Do you dare to make light of this—this travesty of a marriage? Your father must be turning in his grave.”

Isobel’s face hardened, but she said only, “I suggest we take our conversation into the drawing room—unless, of course, you relish airing our family quarrels to the world.”

Robert scowled, but swung around and strode down the hall to the drawing-room door, belatedly stopping and stepping aside to allow Elizabeth to enter the room before him. Isobel hung back to take Gregory’s arm and strolled more slowly down the hallway.

“I am sorry,” Gregory told her ruefully. “I tried to stop him, but you know how he gets when he is convinced he’s right.”

“I’m sure you did your best.” Since Gregory’s father was always sure he was right, Isobel could not imagine how he acted otherwise.

“Isobel . . .”

She glanced up at Gregory and saw that her cousin’s usually cheerful face was creased in a frown. “Oh, Gregory, not you, too!”

“Is this really what you want to do?” he went on in a rush, his voice low and urgent. “I cannot think that you care for this man. He is a stranger.”

“Don’t be absurd. Of course I don’t care for him. But most people do not marry for love.”

“Perhaps not. But you! I hate to think that you must. It is not right that you should be placed in such a position.” He set his jaw manfully, his expression one of preparing to take his medicine. “Isobel, you know that . . . that you have only to say the word. That is, I would be most honored if you would agree to . . . to become my wife.”

Isobel let out a gurgle of laughter. “I can see that you have ‘screwed your courage to the sticking place.’ But there is no need for such a sacrifice.”

“’Tis no sacrifice,” her cousin protested. “You know that I have always loved you.”

“Yes, of course. Just as I love you. We both know that it is not in the way of a husband and wife.”

“No, of course not, but—hang it, you need not do this to put a roof over your head. My father is not the easiest of men, but he would welcome you into our home.”

“It is not the solution, as you are well aware. Cheer up.” She gave his arm a squeeze as they stepped inside the drawing room. “It isn’t as if I am going to the guillotine.”

Robert, who had been striding impatiently up and down the room, wheeled around and glared at her. “How could you do this?” He turned to pin Elizabeth with the same scowl. “How could you let her?”

“I think it is a wonderful idea,” Elizabeth retorted. When he snorted, she added, “It’s time we had some new blood around here.”

“New blood! That’s what you call joining one of the oldest, proudest names in the Highlands to some English rabble? You have no idea who his family is or what sort of gutter he crawled out of.”

“I know who he is,” Isobel shot back, her eyes flashing. “He is the man who is about to become my husband, and I will not allow you to speak ill of him under his own roof!”

Robert blinked, taken aback, but he was not silent long. “Have you written Andrew about this?”

“No. Why should I?”

“Why?” He gaped at her. “He is your brother. The Laird of Baillannan.”

“Not any longer. He lost Baillannan—tossed it away like an old shoe. It is his fault we are in this position. He hadn’t
the sense to even hold on to his inheritance; I certainly don’t intend to seek his advice. And I do not need his permission to marry. He is not my keeper.”

“You need a keeper if this is the kind of decision you make.”

“I am doing what is best for me and my aunt, as well as what is best for this land and the people on it. You have nothing to say about the matter. Nor does Andrew. He is my brother, and I love him, but he does not rule me—nor Baillannan, come to that.”

“She is right.” A voice came from behind them, and Isobel swung around to see Jack Kensington standing in the doorway, his face as hard as granite. “
I
am the owner of Baillannan. And if you have objections to me or to our marriage, then you had best say them to me.”

I
will not have you upsetting
Miss Rose,” Jack said, crossing the room to Robert.

Robert’s eyes bulged, his color rising dangerously, and he spluttered, “Why . . . why . . . how dare you! She is my niece, and I will speak to her as I please.”

“No. You will not. Isobel is my wife.” He slanted a glance at her and a smile touched his lips. “Or as near to it as matters.” His gaze returned to the other man, and nothing of a smile was left on his face. “If you berate her again, I will tell the servants to toss you out on your ear. Have I made myself clear?”

The older man gaped at Kensington, and there was utter silence in the room. Isobel came up beside Jack, saying, “I believe you’ve made it amply clear.” She laid a hand on his arm and turned to her cousin. “I suggest we all sit down. Aunt Elizabeth, why don’t you ring for tea.”

“Of course, dear. Mr. Kensington, do come sit here by me.”
Elizabeth gave the bellpull a tug and came over to link her arm through Jack’s, steering him toward the sofa. “I have been intending to show you Barbara’s ring.”

“Barbara’s ring?” Robert grumbled, taking a seat at some distance from Jack. “What are you on about now?”

“It is the wedding ring John gave Isobel’s mother,” Elizabeth explained, pulling it off her finger. She twinkled up at Jack as she handed it over to him. “I put it on this morning so I would not forget it again.”

“It is lovely.” Kensington took it and studied it. “I am honored, ma’am.”

“The man cannot even provide his own wedding band?” Robert turned his glare on Isobel. “There! You see? I told you he was an adventurer. What kind of man asks a woman to marry him and then tells her she must provide the ring?”

“The kind who came to Scotland not knowing he would find his future wife there,” Jack responded before Isobel could say anything. “I do not casually carry about family heirlooms on my person, Mr. Rose,” Jack said disdainfully. “I will, of course, send for the
contessa
’s ring; it is worn by all the Kensington brides. But in the meantime, I fear I must borrow from Aunt Elizabeth.”

“The
contessa
! Hah! As if you were heir to an earldom.”

“Oh, no, not the heir,” Jack demurred modestly. “The
contessa
’s title was Italian, in any case. She brought the ring with her as part of her dowry.”

“The
contessa
,” Aunt Elizabeth said, enraptured. “How romantic. You see, Robert?” She shot her cousin a triumphant look. “I told you your worries were nonsensical. You are far too suspicious.”

Seeing Robert’s face flush beet red, Isobel jumped into
the conversation before he could find his tongue. “Speaking of keepsakes—I have a few more things from the attic, if you would like to have any of them, Cousin Robert.”

“What?” He blinked at her, caught off guard. “Do you mean you are still tossing out the family’s possessions?”

“It isn’t as if I am throwing away heirlooms.” Isobel kept her voice mild. “However, the attic could use some clearing out. I have found a great deal there that does not need to be kept. Perhaps you might want to help sort through things.”

“Yes, of course, I shall,” he replied, glowering.

Isobel suspected Robert was not likely to come help in such a dusty and mundane task, but her words had accomplished her goal of getting him off the subject. “Cousin Robert . . . I meant to ask you if you remembered anything about Sir Malcolm’s watch?”

“What? Sir Malcolm’s watch? What are you talking about?”

“The one he gave Aunt Elizabeth the night he came back to Baillannan. She showed it to us the other day.” Isobel related the story her aunt had told them, ending, “I think that proves that Sir Malcolm did return from France.”