Never Kiss a Laird (11 page)

“I hope it
works,” Sally accepted this gambit.
 
“I
am ready to bid winter farewell, and feel some real warmth in the sunshine.”

“My gamekeeper
assures me we will have an early spring this year, Miss Denlington,” the Earl
told her, taking her cup, and handing her gloves to her.
 
“He has lived in this part of the country his
whole life, and I have come to have a lot of faith in his predictions.
 
Indeed, the heather is in bud already. When
it is in full bloom you will see the moors at their most beautiful.”
  
He held the door open as he spoke, and Sally
had no course but to gather her gloves and whip and go through and down the
hall to the yard.
 
Their horses were
saddled and ready for them, and the Earl threw Sally up easily into the saddle,
then mounted his own tall horse, and followed her from the yard and onto the
road out of the village.

“You have not
yet told me where you are staying,” Hugh accused, as the village disappeared
behind them.
 

“In the area.
 
I, um,
was looking for a quiet location for a repairing lease, as it were.”
 
Sally stumbled over a vague response.
 
I really must come up with better excuses in
advance, she scolded herself.

“Scotland
in winter?”
 
Hugh repeated, with a
surprised look. “That is not the usual destination for pleasure seekers.
 
One usually heads south.”
   

Sally’s face
crinkled into an understanding grin at his wonder.
 
“You probably think me mad.
 
Admit it.”

“I don’t think
I’d jump straight to mad,” Hugh laughed.
 
“But definitely eccentric! Are you here with your family, Miss
Denlington?”

Sally thought
about Millie and Miles, who had both left all they knew behind to accompany her
to Scotland.
 
They loved and supported her despite her
ruined reputation, and the loss of her position.
 
 
In
contrast she pictured her parents as they had looked on the day that she had
boarded the travelling carriage and left Denham Park
for her grandmother’s house: cold, angry and distant.
 
Her mother had refused to meet her eyes, and
even her father had had no kind words of farewell.

“Yes,” Sally
said, with eyes that were suddenly moist.
 
“Yes, I am here with my family.”
 

“And your antipathy for the Laird, Miss Denlington.
 
Does that have anything to do with your
presence here?
 
Does he have something to
do with your situation?” Hugh asked, intrigued.

Sally laughed,
but shook her head.
 
“No, but I fear that
he and my father would have much in common.
  
They both of them set themselves up as
paragons, and indict anyone whom they judge to be wanting, no matter what the
evidence may prove.
 
I despise such
behavior, Mr. McLeod, and those who indulge in it.” Her eyes snapped with anger
as she concluded.

“And you know
the Earl of Kane to be guilty of such behavior?”
 
Hugh raised an eyebrow.

“I do.
 
Just like my father.
 
In fact, they may be cronies, for all I
know.”

“I must admit
that I am fascinated, and insist on knowing the whole story,” Hugh demanded.
 

Sally sighed
with relief as she saw the turn-off to
Whitethorne
cottage ahead, and sat up straighter on Beauty’s back.
 
She was wandering into dangerous territory,
and Mr. McLeod’s curiosity could lead to her undoing.
 
“This is where I must leave you,” she
indicated the road ahead.
 
“Farewell, Mr.
McLeod,” she called, and snapped the reigns as Beauty leapt to a gallop.

Hugh watched her
race away down the lane, her blue habit flying in the wintry wind, back ramrod
straight as she disappeared into the distance.
 
 
There were very few estates in
the vicinity that were ever leased out.
 
Yes,
he would definitely find out which one had been let for the winter months, he
resolved, as he chirruped his horse into a walk.

Chapter
Eight

The reputation of the Earl’s gamekeeper
as a weather seer appeared to be safe, as the March days quickly warmed up and
crocuses and heather sprang into bloom all around
Whitethorne
cottage.
 
Sally, with Bridget’s local
knowledge at her command, was emboldened to get outside and start planting the
kitchen garden.
 
Armed
with seed potatoes, beets and a variety of legumes judged by Bridget to be
hardy enough to thrive, Sally dug in the rich loamy soil, furrowing out rows to
be planted with her vegetable starts.
 
Millie had unearthed a pair of gardening gauntlets, and with these
remarkable accoutrements completely enveloping her arms from fingertips to
shoulders, she reluctantly joined her mistress in the garden.
 
  

“Is this really necessary?”
 
Millie asked plaintively.
 
“I mean, I’ve learned to bake bread and
scones, and you are now really very good with the porridge.
 
Is it necessary for us to also grow
food?”
 
Millie’s scowl deepened as she
distastefully picked up an earthworm with her gloved hands and flung it away.
 
“We can buy anything we need in the village,
after all.”

Sallie grinned at her very correct
lady’s maid.
 
“Of course we must!
 
This is what cottage dwellers do,
Millie.
 
Besides, it behooves us to be
very careful with our money.
 
What we
have left has to last us for one year and a half, Millie.”

“Very well, Miss
Sally.
 
But our budget would be
helped the most if you would refrain from finding any more mouths to feed.
 
What is to be done with Bridget, Miss?
 
She can not share your chamber forever.”

A frown crinkled Sally’s smooth
brow.
 
“I know.
 
I have been trying to come up with a plan,
but so far without success.’
 
A rueful
smile crossed her face.
 
“Bridget has a
great many talents.
 
She has taught you
to bake, we have not ruined a garment in the wash since she came, and we are
learning agriculture from her.”
 
She held
up a small seed potato to emphasize this point.
 
“But she seems to lack any curiosity of the world about her.
 
How can she not even know her intended’s
address in London?
 
It appears that she never asked him.
 
Or the homes of any of the
other maids, so that we could intercept them by way of their families.
“

Millie pulled herself to her feet,
and stood, stretching out her back muscles.
 
“I’m afraid my rheumatics are telling me that I am done with this task
for today.”
 
She stripped off her
gauntlets, and, laying them down, continued.
 
“We must find this Robbie of hers soon, or
Whitethorne
cottage will have another
wee
occupant before very long.”

Sally looked up, her hands busy
with the last of the seed potatoes.
 
“As
much fun as a baby would be, you’re right, of course.”

“Fun?”
 
Millie shuddered.
 
“I keep forgetting that you are the youngest
of your brothers and have no experience with babies.
 
I would like to assure you that they are decidedly
not
fun, Miss Sally.”

Sally smiled at her, shaking her
head, and continued, “I will just have to devise a reason to go up to the
Castle and find a way to leave a message for the boy.
 
I only hope I don’t run into the old
Laird.”
 
A martial light came into her
eyes, and her pretty brow lowered.
 
“I’d
like to give him a piece of my mind for the way he treated Bridget, of course,
but there is always the possibility that he knows me.
 
I can’t remember ever meeting the Earl, but
he could be an old crony of
Grandmama’s
or Papa’s.
 
However, it is a risk I might have to take.”
  
Her temper rising at the memory of Bridget’s
maltreatment, Sally shoved the last potato roughly in the ground, as a familiar
voice spoke from the cottage’s kitchen door.

“If I hadn’t seen it with my own
eyes, I never would have believed it!”

“Rupert!”
 
Sally exclaimed joyfully, and scrambled to her
feet.
 
Looking up, she saw her handsome
brother, a look of dismay on his face.
 
“Oh, Rupert.
 
I am so
glad to see you!”
 

She ran to her brother, who backed
off, hands held out to keep her away.
 
His horrified look intensified, as he observed the soil clinging to her
fingers and the front of her apron.

“Stay off, Sally,” he commanded
earnestly.
 
“Do not touch me! You look as
if you’ve been making mud pies again.”

A peal of laughter escaped Sally,
but she stopped obediently in front of her brother, surveying him in her turn.

Rupert’s gold curls were carefully
arranged in a cherubim style, and in his hands he held a curly brimmed beaver
hat.
 
His collar came up about his ears,
and an intricately tied cravat cascaded under his chin.
 
A tight fitting coat of blue superfine cloth
fell open to reveal a brightly-colored, striped waistcoat, and the ensemble was
completed with tight dove-colored pantaloons and shining top boots.
 

Sally shook her head back and
forth, and a soundless whistle shaped her lips.
 
“Very fine, Rupert!
 
I almost wouldn’t have recognized you.
 
You’ve been to London since I saw you, and to your tailor!”

Rupert brushed the compliment
aside, scrutinizing Sally far less complimentarily.
 
“Well I certainly would not have recognized
you, Sally.
 
It would not hurt you to get
to a dressmaker yourself.
 
You look a
very rustic!”

Sally looked down at the old dress
she had put on for gardening, and was aware that her red-gold curls, never very
obedient, were escaping from the knot that had confined them.
 
Her hands were indeed very dirty, and she
brushed ineffectively at the mud that caked her apron.
 
 
She
happily was unaware of the smudge of earth on her cheek.

“Never mind that, Rupert,” she
laughed.
 
“I am so happy to see you.
 
Come inside while I wash up, and tell me how
you come to be here so soon.
 
I have been
longing to see you, but never imagined you would be able to get away in under a
month.”

“I was pretty clever, I don’t mind
telling you,” Rupert informed her proudly, following his little sister in to
the kitchen.
 
“There was the most awful
row when
Grandmama
sent the message that you were not
in the coach when it arrived at Waverly.
 
She found your note, and sent her groom to Denham Park
immediately to inform our parents.”
 
Rupert blanched at the memory of their reaction to that communication.

“Mama has disowned you, I’m
afraid,” Rupert informed her, giving her shoulder a light squeeze.

“Again,” Sally sighed.

“Again,” Rupert agreed.
 
“But this time Papa has as well.
 
He was outraged, Sally.
 
I feared for his heart, he was so angry.
 
After that he was mostly just sad.”

Sally raised her chin, and met
Rupert’s eyes.
 
“Well, and so was I
angry, Rupert.
 
Both Mama and Papa told
me that they believed me when I assured them that I had not misbehaved in any
way with Simon Atherly, and yet they sent me away.”
  
Sally’s underlying anger surged out.
 
“They can disown me as much as they
want.
 
I disown them!”

Rupert looked at her, shocked.
 
“I say, Sally.
 
I made sure you would be ready to come back
by now.
 
I mean, you can’t intend to live
like this forever?”
 
He looked around the
small kitchen.
 
A bowl of yeasty dough
was rising on the back of the stove, and vegetables were piled in the sink, to
be prepared for dinner.
 
A small wooden
table with four chairs was situated in a sunny patch under the window, and a
comfortable chair had been set in front of the fireplace, where Miles sat after
dinner, cleaning tackle, or performing some other task.
 
To Sally’s eyes it was comforting and safe; a
haven free from censure.
 
She could see
the distaste in Rupert’s glance as he looked about.
 
 
In
truth, it was a very humble home, and in comparison to Denham Park,
it was a very hovel.
 
Rupert appeared to
be sincerely appalled, and Sally knew that his shock was motivated in part by
his concern for her welfare.

Their eyes met, and at the look of
dismay on her brother’s face, the angry blue sparks emanating from Sally’s eyes
dissipated.

“Besides,” Sally assured him, as
her spurt of temper died down.
 
“It’s not
forever.
 
When I turn twenty-one I am
moving to Paris,
remember?”
 
She dried her now-clean
hands, and hung her soiled apron over a hook.
 
“Come and sit with me in the front room.
 
Millie will make us some tea, and I want to hear all about the row.”

She tugged Rupert by the hand down
the gloomy little hall to the sitting room, where Miles was building up the
fire.

“Master Rupert,” he greeted the
young man, standing and executing a small bow.
 
“Miss Sally, your wish has been granted this day. She has been longing
for a visit from you,” he informed Rupert.
 
“She has me ride into Thorne to check for mail every day, hoping to hear
that you would be coming to visit.”

“I didn’t have time to send a
letter,” Rupert said.
 
“Papa sent me to
Grandmother’s shortly after he received her letter.
 
I don’t know what he thought I could do, but
you know how it is when he gives an order.
 
I didn’t dare ask him what he expected me to accomplish, I just went.”

“How was
Grandmama
when you got there?”
 
Sally
wondered.
 

“Furious,” Rupert shook his
head.
 
“You know, I could pick her up
with one hand, but I am still terrified of the old harridan.”

“Terrified?” his intrepid sister
scoffed.
 
“What could she do to you?”

“I hate to think!”
 
Rupert shuddered.
 
“Anyway, she sent me off to ask at all the
posting houses, to see if anyone remembered you hiring a horse, or changing
teams.
 
You must have planned well,
Sallie, because I did ask at the nearer ones, and no one remembered you.”

“Miles hired a conveyance close to Denham Park,
under another name.
 
He returned it and
then rode Beauty back.
 
I do believe we
are untraceable.
 
Pretty well for a first
flight, wouldn’t you say?” she asked boastfully.

Rupert sneered in a brotherly
fashion.
 
“I suppose Miles thought of all
the details.
 
Anyway, I told Grandmother
that I could be away for a week or more, if I caught word of you, and I came
straight here to see how you are doing.”

Sally leaned across the small sofa
and embraced her brother.
 
“I am so glad
to see you, Rupert.
 
We are doing very
well, though.”

At that moment, Bridget came down
the stairs, and as she entered the sitting room came to an abrupt stop.

“Oh, I am so sorry, Miss.
 
I never knew that you had company,” she
stuttered at the sight of Rupert in all his finery lounging on the sofa.

“Do come in, Bridget,” Sally stood
and took the young maid’s hand.
 
“Rupert,
may I make you known to Bridget?
 
She is
staying with us for a while.
 
Bridget,
this is my brother, the
Honourable
Rupert Denham.”

As Bridget bobbed a shy curtsey,
Sally suddenly spun around and looked at her brother.
 
“I have just had the most brilliant idea!”

“Now, Sally,” Rupert said suspiciously.
 
“Your ideas are never brilliant and usually
land me in the soup.”

A laugh escaped Sally, but she said
soothingly, “No, no, nothing bad can possibly happen with this idea.
 
Bridget, go help Millie bring the tea while I
talk to my brother.”

Bridget scampered away, and Sally
turned to Rupert.
 
“You are going to call
on the Laird, Rupert, dear.
 
What could
be more natural, than to pay a visit while you are in the neighborhood?”

“What could be more natural?”
 
Rupert exclaimed, appalled.
 
“No, Sally!
 
I do not even know the Earl of Kane, if that is who you mean by the
Laird.
 
I believe him to be a miserable
old crony of
Grandmama’s
. What possible excuse could
I give for calling on him?
 
I won’t do
it!”