Suddenly, all the sabers dropped, and the three younger brothers tackled Lord Lismore to the ground. The earl struggled mightily against them, but he was overpowered. I leaned forward in apprehension. Should I be worried for him?

  Every attempt at escape was met with preventative measures by Iain and Blair. Magnus did what he could with only one arm at his disposal, holding one of the earl’s wrists and tripping him the one time he was able to scramble to his feet.

  My heart thumped as I tried to gauge whether the fighting was good-natured or in earnest.

  Finally, I caught a better glimpse of the earl. Though he struggled to free himself, the smile never left his face. It was a stark contrast from the way he had looked at me when we had sparred. I sincerely doubted he would ever wear such a smile in my presence.

  A knock on my door had me whipping around. I pulled the window shut, latched it, then yanked the curtains together.

  “Come in,” I said.

  A maid stepped inside the room, demure and unwilling to meet my eyes.

  I held my chin higher, considering for the first time what sort of gossip had likely been passed amongst the servants about me. I had not intended to come to Lochlarren acting like a shrew, but so far, that was precisely what I must have seemed.

  “Mrs. Boyle wishes ta ken if ye’re ready for a tour of the house, miss.”

  Had the maid been looking at me she would have known I had no desire to spend time with the housekeeper, no matter how curious I was to see the rest of the castle. The sooner I faced her, however, the sooner I could ensure she understood I would not tolerate her insolence.

  I glanced down at the hem of my dress, which had become muddied outside. “Thank you. I shall need time to change first.”

  She nodded. “Would ye like my help, miss?”

  What I would have liked was a bath to rid my hair and skin of the smell of peat. Something told me countesses were meant to smell like rosewater or lemon rather than burnt blocks of earth.

  But there was no time for a bath just now. A tour of the castle would at least help me feel less foreign here. I could bathe afterward.

  “I would like that,” I said.

  Hopefully, Augusta would be feeling well enough to join the tour.

  CHAPTER TEN

  JULIANA

  Augusta’s health had not improved, but she insisted on joining the tour with Mrs. Boyle despite that fact. I did not try to dissuade her, for I was glad not to be alone with the housekeeper, even if it meant the tour was punctuated with constant sneezing and sniffling.

  I assisted Augusta into her clothing, utilizing the time to ask her the questions burning within me. As I had begun to suspect, Augusta had never heard of clan feuding practice. On discovering I had eaten an entire dinner without the use of a fork, she was astounded—and then grim. “It is just as I feared, Juliana.” She paused to wipe her red nose with a handkerchief. “They are testing you—testing your mettle. I am terribly sorry not to have been there.”

  I smiled and patted her hand. “It is of no account, cousin. I believe I managed well enough.”

  I declined to tell her about the morning’s events, for I doubted she would approve of my actions. Fighting with sabers was not something she had required me to practice in my efforts to become accomplished.

  We made our way to the entrance hall, where Mrs. Boyle was waiting.

  Had there been ghosts living here, I would still have considered her the most frightening prospect in the castle. I was under no illusion she liked or approved of me.

  I gathered she thought me unworthy of becoming the mistress of Lochlarren. But her comportment toward me only made me want to dig in my heels more. I had some idea that, if only I could force her to recognize my right to be there, my success would be assured.

  Mrs. Boyle led us up another winding staircase—I had counted four so far, all in different towers. Augusta was miserable after the first two, and when we passed the corridor to our bedchambers, I finally insisted she rest again. I could manage Mrs. Boyle well enough now that I had spent more time in her company.

  Augusta was feeling unwell enough to capitulate to my demand, and I was left alone with the housekeeper, who took me to the southernmost tower, starting at the ground floor and showing me each room that branched from the winding staircase. She had shown us or at least mentioned what purpose each room served, but she passed by one on our right without a word.

  “What room is this, if you please?” I asked. I couldn’t very well be mistress of a castle I did not know.

  Mrs. Boyle turned, her lips pinched as they always were when her gaze rested upon me. “‘Tis the royal apartments, miss. Far above the likes of you and I, of course, and no’ a place ye’ll ever need ta go.”

  “I should like to see them, all the same.”

  Our gazes held, a moment of challenge between us. Perhaps she realized it was the money from my dowry which would be paying her wages, for she finally relented, going to the door and turning the knob.

  I followed her into the dim room, for the curtains were drawn.

  Mrs. Boyle stopped just inside, hardly allowing me any space. “This is the royal bedchamber, and beyond it, a bedchamber for attending servants.” She made quick, showy gesture around the dark room. “And now we can proceed with the tour.”

  Ignoring her, I strode over to the window and pulled the curtains open. Both of us blinked at the light that poured in, illuminating the fine furnishings around. It was nothing like the rest of the castle. Nothing was worn or tattered here. The bed was not four-poster as the others in the castle. Its hangings, a rich red with gold tassels and embroidery, seemed to float, hanging from the ceiling itself. The plush mattress and generous coverings appeared a soft crimson cloud.

  Mrs. Boyle hurried over to the curtains and pulled them to, shrouding us again in darkness. “The light will damage the furnishin’s.”

  “Have the apartments ever been used by royalty?”

  “Nay,” she said with a degree of reluctance, moving toward the door. “No’ yet.”

  “By anyone else?”

  She drew back with obvious offense. “Of course no’.” Her eyes locked on me. “And if anyone tried, I’d have their hide!”

  “It seems a great waste of a perfectly good bedchamber,” I said, my indignation at her behavior growing by the minute. It was true, though. The fireplace sat against the west wall, neither too far nor too close to the bed, and the windows looked out on the side of the loch opposite my bedchamber. There were even fresh logs—not peat—in the fireplace.

  “Ye dinna understand how things are done in ancient families, Miss Godfrey,” Mrs. Boyle said. “These apartments are the pride of the family, only ta be used by those of royal blood.” Her piercing gaze was enough to convey how very far from such a standard she considered me.

  “If only half such care had been taken for the rest of the castle,” I said as we left the room. “Apparently, the Duncans have found it more important to impress some imagined royal guest—one who has clearly no thought for the Lismore title—than to see to their own comfort or the comfort of their actual guests.”

  Mrs. Boyle continued down the stairs. “Most guests dinna consider themselves deservin’ of better than the king himself.”

  By the time we made our way back down the staircase to the entry hall, my jaw ached from how tightly I had been clenching it.

  The front door opened just as I reached the bottom of the stairs. The four Duncans entered, their breath coming fast, their mouths stretched in smiles, and their clothing tousled. Had they been outside all this time, enjoying one another’s company?

  How I envied them.

  They stopped short at the sight of us, their smiles dimming considerably. The reaction made my cheeks warm. How had I been foolish enough to think I might find friendship and family here? I was not welcome. Papa’s money was, but I was not.

  I was simply the string attached to the money.

  “Good day, Miss Godfrey,” Lord Lismore said, inclining his head. His waistcoat dangled open, his dark hair was disordered, and his eyes were still bright with energy. The effect was to make him odiously handsome. Or handsomely odious.

  “Good day,” I replied.

  “Were you coming in search of me?” he asked.

  I stared at him for a moment, wondering if I was imagining it or if he had misplaced his accent again. When his brothers looked at one another, sharing conspiratorial looks, I was certain I had been right. So, the accent had been adopted for my benefit, had it?

  Indignation filled my chest. What games did they think they could play with me?

  “No,” I replied. “Mrs. Boyle was good enough to give me a tour of the castle. The royal apartments in particular I found fascinating.” I smiled. “I certainly hope not all of my money will be devoted to them. That seems to have been the custom until now.”

  Lord Lismore’s mouth twitched. “Nay, lass, for how could we even spend the half of a fortune as grand as yers?”

  I kept my expression pleasant, holding his gaze. “I wish for a warm bath to be drawn. I have no wish to smell like peat all day and all night. You do possess a bath, I assume?” I let my eyes trip from the earl to each of his three brothers by turn, then offered a condescending smile. “Perhaps not.”

  Lord Lismore watched me for a moment in silence, as though considering my words, while eyebrows inched up on the faces of the other three Duncans. Mrs. Boyle had retreated a few steps and was looking at the earl, her mouth drawn in a tight line. It was an uncomfortable moment, but I was determined to have the last laugh this morning. If mockery was the order of the day, I could participate just as easily as anyone.

  “Och, lass, of course we’re possessed of a bath,” Lord Lismore said, his accent returning more pronounced than ever. He motioned to the door they had just come through. “What better bath than the loch? ’Tis large enough for all of us ta bathe at once, though I canna promise ‘twill be warm.”

  “The loch?” I scoffed. Did he think I was stupid enough he could convince me to bathe in it?

  He smiled. “There’s naught like a refreshin’ dip.”

  “In full view of the castle, no doubt,” I said.

  “Nay,” Iain said, stepping forward, “there’s a wee spot by the bushes with all the privacy ye could want. As for what ye’re smellin’, ’tis only Sandy. ‘Tis nigh on three months since he last bathed.”

  “Is that all?” I asked. “I would have guessed six.”

  Iain snorted and tried to make it sound like a sneeze.

  “And how often is it customary to bathe at Lochlarren?” I asked, pretending curiosity.

  “Every month or two,” Blair said. “I had one barely a month ago.” He raised his arm and put his nose near his armpit, inhaling then grinning. “Fresh as a newborn lammie. Or a month-old lammie.”

  The door opened again behind them, and a manservant entered, a knapsack hanging across his body. Upon seeing us, he opened it and withdrew a handful of letters.

  “The post, my lord.” He handed the papers to the earl.

  “Thank you,” Lord Lismore said as the servant bowed and went on his way.

  He rifled through the letters, his brow pursing further with each one. He paused halfway through the pile, then looked up at me.

  “For you, Miss Godfrey.” He handed me a letter.

  My name in Papa’s writing graced the front, and my heart skittered at the sight. I wanted to open it immediately, impatient to know whether the news was good or bad. I wanted him here to guide me, or, preferably, to see just how impossible this match was.

  Surely, he did not wish me to put up with the sort of people and lifestyle expected of me here, even if the result was a title. What good was being a countess if I was to be stuck in a cold, half-ruined castle in the middle of a loch all year long?

  “Will yer father be joinin’ us anytime soon?” Lord Lismore asked. “In time for the weddin’? Or the engagement party?”

  I looked up. “Engagement party?”

  “Aye,” the earl said, his brow furrowed. “He didna tell ye of it?”

  I searched his face, trying to determine whether this was yet another trick of theirs. I found no such evidence, however. “He failed to mention it. It must have slipped his mind in the chaos of business affairs and preparing to leave.”

  Lord Lismore nodded. “Aye, that’ll be it. Given the shortness of the engagement, ‘twill be held the night afore the weddin’. The invitations were sent out nigh on a fortnight ago. ‘Tis only fittin’ that our acquaintances meet the future Lady Lismore.”

  “Of course,” I said, though the instability of my voice sapped the words of their strength. Any hope I’d harbored that Papa might arrive and save me from this increasingly undesirable match flickered like a candle against a winter draft. An engagement party made everything seem so final—and invitations extended nearly two weeks ago.

  Lord Lismore’s gaze was on me, watching me carefully. “I’m sorry ye didna ken of it. Its purpose is ta honor ye, Miss Godfrey. I hoped ye’d be pleased.”

  Hoped I’d be judged and condemned by the entire county, more like.

  All five sets of eyes were on me, and I straightened. The Duncans were holding an engagement party in honor of the future countess. I needed to show them I could handle such an affair with the grace it required. “Very pleased indeed, I thank you. I look forward to it. Now if you will excuse me, I would like to read my father’s letter.”

  I waited until I was concealed from their view by the stairs, then broke the seal and opened the letter, consuming it in less than a minute.

  Papa had known of the engagement party. His letter made that clear, for he promised to arrive in plenty of time for it. He spoke of it as though he assumed I, too, had known of it.

  I sighed.

  His head was so full of numbers and business, he often forgot to pass along critical pieces of information like this.

  He expressed his eagerness to see me in my new home and spoke of three new business opportunities he had managed to find with acquaintances of Lord Lismore’s in town.

  I folded the short letter, debating whether I should respond and convey my fears to him. But I couldn’t.

  His excitement at the new business prospects was a splash of cold water over my peat-saturated hair, reminding me why I was here. This match was not just about me. It was about Papa, about showing him my gratitude for all he had done for me over the years. It was about ensuring his posterity and my posterity had better prospects than he had grown up with. They never need know true hunger or bone-chilling cold. I could sacrifice for them the way Papa had sacrificed for me.

  And perhaps the sacrifice would not be as great as it now seemed. Once I was married and titled, I would have more freedom. There would be no need to stay at Lochlarren once I had produced an heir.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SANDY

  I shut the door to my bedchamber behind me and raised my arm to my nose. Did I smell? I didn’t detect anything unpleasant, but perhaps I had become so accustomed to my own stench, I merely failed to recognize it.

  Of course, it was entirely possible Miss Godfrey had merely said what she had to be disagreeable. She certainly had enough spirit for that. It was a pity she was not more amiable, for spirit was a trait I generally admired, and the woman becoming the Countess of Lismore would need a heavy dose of it. Despite the umbrage I had taken at Miss Godfrey’s low opinion of Lochlarren, it was a remote place and the living conditions often difficult and inconvenient. Perhaps even malodorous?

  I strode to the armoire and pulled both doors open. One by one, I smelled my shirts and coats. I frowned. Was I imagining it, or was there a hint of an objectionable smell there?

  I yanked on the bell cord beside the fireplace. Better have them laundered again to be certain.

  I waited for my valet to arrive, cringing at the thought of how close I had held Miss Godfrey this morning. Had she wrested her arm from my grasp due, at least in part, to the odor I was unconsciously emitting?

  I shouldn’t care what she thought of me—indeed, had I not been going out of my way to make myself unlikeable to her?—but I didn’t wish to put others off by my smell. Besides, it would be one thing if I had intentionally made myself reek to be off-putting, but I had not, and that was embarrassing.

  The door opened, and my valet stepped inside. “My lord?”

  I took the clothes I had gathered into a pile in hand and offered them to him. “I would like these to be laundered immediately.”

  He frowned as he accepted the pile. He peered at the garments, then at me. “I reckon these are freshly laundered, my lord. Is there somethin’ amiss?”

  “No,” I replied. “That is . . .” I paused. “Do I smell, Gillies?”

  His frown deepened. “Smell, my lord?”

  “Yes, smell. Stink. Reek.” I waited for him to pronounce the verdict.

  “Nay, sir. Ye dinna smell, stink, or reek. Are ye displeased with my work—or that of the maids??”

  “No, certainly not.” It was Miss Godfrey who was displeased. “But I would like those laundered despite that. And if the laundry maid has anything she might add to . . . enhance the smell of freshness, I would appreciate it.”

  “Verra good, sir.” Perplexed, Gillies bowed and left the room.

  I was acting strangely. I quite saw that. I was finding it difficult to know what to do with Miss Godfrey’s insults and complaints. I should not have given into her taunting on the lawn that morning, and I should not be asking for my clothes to be washed, dried, and ironed again. But here I was.

  I sighed and went over to the window, leaning on the sill to look at the blurry view it afforded. My goal to humble Miss Godfrey was not working. If anything, she was more pompous and haughtier than ever. If we were to be married, we could not carry on in this way forever. Well, perhaps she could, but I could not. Yet, what was I to do? She was impossible to understand.

 

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