Chapter 23 #2
“I must insist,” Amanda said. “This is the most horrendous and vile intrusion, Father. You can’t think to allow him to behave in such a manner. Not only is it uncouth, but . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“No doubt an American trait,” Montgomery said. “Is that what you were about to say?”
She glanced away rather than answer him.
His gaze turned to the earl. “In Virginia, a gentleman would not inquire as to another man’s business. Not unless, of course, he had reason to believe the man was a thief or a bounder. Do you think those things of me?”
Uncle Bertrand looked as if he had swallowed something the wrong way. He coughed a few times, his color still florid, his gaze lighting on anything but Montgomery.
“I refuse to stand here and allow my family to be so dishonored,” Aunt Lilly said.
“Then I suggest you begin to pack,” Montgomery said. “I don’t like guests, or relatives, who steal from me.”
He held out his hand, and Mrs. Brody walked to stand in front of him, extending the mirror.
“I’ll expect your departure within the hour,” Montgomery said.
“We have just now arrived,” Aunt Lilly said. “A journey, I might add, of more than two days. You cannot expect us to turn around and leave.”
“Not only do I expect it,” he said, in the coldest voice Veronica had ever heard, “but if you’ve not gathered your things in the time I’ve given you, you’ll find yourself in the carriage without your possessions. A fact, I can promise you.”
She truly expected him to turn around and simply walk away. Instead, he reached out, grabbed her hand again, pulling her with him. She had to race to keep up with him, and as she did so, realized he was heading, not back to the distillery, but to his chamber.
Once inside, he closed the doors so forcefully it sounded like a gunshot.
He handed her the mirror he’d taken from Mrs. Brody.
“There is one thing worse than having no family,” he said. “That’s having too much of one.”
“I honestly don’t think of them as my family,” Veronica admitted. “We’re simply related.”
“What did you mean earlier? Has Amanda stolen from you before?”
She looked down at the carpet. How odd she’d never noted it was blue and white, woven in an elaborate pattern that looked faintly Grecian in design.
Montgomery didn’t speak, move, or urge her to confess. Instead, he stood silent and patient.
“She didn’t steal from me,” she said finally. “I paid her to leave me alone.”
“Paid her?”
She glanced up. Montgomery was frowning, the expression more than a little disconcerting. Her family was still at the Hall, and if she didn’t couch the words just right, she’d no doubt Montgomery would search Uncle Bertrand out again.
“I think she was concerned about my shaming the family,” she said. “She was always reporting me to Aunt Lilly or Uncle Bertrand. I didn’t finish this chore. I was bad at a task. I was acting oddly. She was a burr in my shoe, and it was easier to pay her to be silent.”
“Is she behind our reception the night of the Mercaii meeting?”
She nodded.
“Why did you go, knowing there was every possibility you might be discovered?”
His frown had disappeared and, in its place, was a look she’d seen more than once. As if he were regarding her with curiosity laced with incredulity.
“Because I wanted to know more than I feared being found out,” she said.
“About your Gift?”
Perhaps it was time she was honest about that, as well.
“Not just that,” she said, twisting her hands in front of her. “I wanted to know if it was possible to talk to the dead.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment. When he spoke, however, it wasn’t to criticize her. Instead, his comment surprised her.
“I didn’t like your cousin from the day we wed,” he said.
“Everyone likes Amanda.”
“Label me a contrarian, then. She flirted with me.”
“Amanda flirts with every man,” she said.
“I thought it was inappropriate for her to do so with a groom on the day of his wedding.”
“She did it just to annoy me,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because Amanda is sly, selfish, and spoiled. She doesn’t care about anyone else except for what they might give her in the way of attention or gifts. If she sees something she wants, she gets it.”
“Evidently, even if it means stealing it.”
She nodded.
“Why her antipathy toward you?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Have you ever met someone who took an instant dislike to you for no reason? Or for no reason you can determine?” She glanced up. “Or has everyone been charmed by you from the first moment they met you?”
“Hardly,” he said. “My brothers were the charming ones. I was the wayward brother.”
“I’d ask you about them, but you’ll get that look on your face.”
“What look?” he asked, frowning at her.
“That one,” she said. “The look that says you aren’t ever going to talk about your past. That Virginia is a closed topic I should never bring up or be curious about.”
He studied her for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision.
“My grandfather built Gleneagle to look exactly like Doncaster Hall,” he said suddenly.
She blinked at him, surprised.
“Exactly?”
He nodded. “Down to the wallpaper,” he said.
That’s why she’d felt so many conflicting emotions from him, including an overarching sadness.
“No wonder you miss Gleneagle,” she said. She tilted her head and regarded him. “What do you regret, Montgomery? In the balloon, you said everyone regrets something. What’s your regret?”
He studied her in silence for a moment but didn’t answer. A moment later, he was gone, turning and leaving the room without speaking another word.
She stared at the open door, wondering if she should follow him. Instead, she opened the connecting door to her suite, closed it silently, and retreated to her chamber.
She wanted to talk to the dead. The moment she’d made the remark, Montgomery knew exactly why. The same reason he found himself imagining Alisdair, James, and Caroline. Sometimes, being with them was easier than missing them so acutely.
He always found himself telling her more than he’d intended. If he’d stayed with her, he’d have wrapped his arms around her, shelved his chin on the top of her head, and told her things he had no business telling anyone. He might even confess to his past.
Or he could love her again, a not-uncommon action around Veronica.
The moment he felt sated, the need built again.
Perhaps he should just carry her around with him, kiss her when he wished, and feel the silky softness of her skin against his, her hands sliding over his body.
She was learning him, and doing so with such delight and eagerness, that one look from her aroused him.
On the way out the door, Ralston stopped him.
“Your Lordship,” the majordomo said, bowing slightly.
He clamped down on his impatience, turned, and faced the other man. “What is it?”
“The sheep need to be moved, Your Lordship.”
“Then move them,” he said.
“It isn’t as simple as that, Your Lordship, I understand,” Ralston said. “I believe you need to pick a location where they should be moved.”
“What do you think I know about sheep?”
“Your Lordship, you’re the only one to make the decision.”
“Pretend I wasn’t here,” he said. “Who would make the decision in my absence?”
“Mr. Kerr, sir. He has always done so since his first day at Doncaster Hall. But I believe Mr. Kerr has left, sir. On your orders.”
He bit back an oath. “Edmund is a solicitor. What does he know about sheep?”
“Mr. Kerr has always served as the steward of Doncaster Hall, sir,” Ralston said.
“If, for some reason, Edmund was unavailable, who would make the decision then?”
Ralston looked confounded by the question. “Your Lordship, Mr. Kerr has always been available.”
Of course, he would have to have the one solicitor in all of Scotland and no doubt the British Empire, who was so determined to fulfill his duty, he didn’t miss a day.
“There’s also the matter of cleaning the river, Your Lordship.”
He braced his back against the doorframe and folded his arms. After his confrontation with Veronica’s relatives, he was dangerously close to the limit of his tolerance.
“Cleaning the river?”
“The river narrows, sir, on this side of Lollybroch. If the rocks and boulders aren’t removed every spring, the river could dam and back up, flooding the land. We make a party of it, Your Lordship. Invite the inhabitants of Lollybroch to assist us.”
“When does that take place?”
“Normally before now, Your Lordship,” Ralston said. “Many details were delayed to accommodate Mr. Kerr’s journey to America.”
“How fortunate he found me,” he said dryly.
“A revelation of his character, sir, that he could do so with such assiduousness.”
“What does that mean?”
Ralston looked uncomfortable again. “Did you not know, sir? Mr. Kerr is a Fairfax. He would have been in line for the title had it not been for your grandfather.”
As Montgomery stared at him, Ralston continued. “His mother was a Fairfax. The title is allowed to travel through the women of the family, but only after all the male heirs have been considered.”
“My grandfather.”
Ralston nodded.
“Are you certain, Ralston?”
“About Mr. Kerr’s ancestry? Of course, sir. The 10th Lord Fairfax paid for his education because he was a Fairfax.”
You need to pay more attention to your inheritance, sir. Being a Lord Fairfax of Doncaster is a great honor. Edmund’s words spoken to him in London. All the solicitor’s endless harping at him made sense now.
Edmund no doubt thought he would have been a better heir.
“Will you be inspecting the stable, sir, and the changes made to the stalls?” Ralston asked.
“Must I?” he asked.
Ralston wore a look of commiseration. The man knew, only full well, that it was more interesting working on his airship than being the 11th Lord Fairfax.
“Set up a time, Ralston,” he said, resigned to his duties. For the moment, however, he would escape to the distillery.