Chapter 1
“All ye need is to keep the dressin' clean, and ye should be fine,” Talia Collins instructed, smiling down at the blacksmith on her settee. “‘Tis time ye started leavin' the hard work to Derrick, Mr. Douglas. Ye arenae as young as ye once were.”
Mr. Douglas wrinkled his nose and rose quicker than a man of his seventy years should have. He was tall and stocky, with a build that told of many years of hard toil. He was a regular patient of hers, since he ended up with burns more often than she liked.
Most of her patients were much like him.
They had worked many years to perfect their craft and were too scared to leave it to others to run.
Talia felt that she would be much the same when the years caught up with her.
It would be difficult to stop practicing as a healer, but that didn’t stop her from giving good advice.
“The lad’s nae any good,” he retorted. “Perhaps if he had a wife as lovely as yerself, he might be more responsible.”
Talia huffed a laugh and shooed the man away. The villagers were always trying to pair her with their sons, and while she found it flattering, it got tiring rather quickly.
That had been her last argument with the man she had considered her father before his passing.
Grief filled her again at the reminder.
“It would take more than a wife to help yer Derrick, Mr. Douglas,” she laughed without any humor. “How is yer back today? Ye’re nae complainin' about the pain.”
“Me back is much improved since I used the ointment ye gave me,” he said with a bright smile. “And me Derrick is a fine lad for ye. Ye’re about the same age, and he is as handsome as I was at his age. Mr. Boyd would have approved this match.”
“Perhaps, but he isnae here to agree, so I shall make me own decisions,” she murmured, her throat closing up at the mention of her adoptive father. “And marriage isnae one of them.”
“Aye, I understand,” Mr. Douglas said, arching an eyebrow. “Ye have someone else on yer mind.”
“I daenae,” she protested. “What made ye think that?”
“Ye have turned down half the lads in our village,” he answered. “Mrs. Knox was heartbroken when ye refused to marry her boy. Though I agree with ye. Her Rowan is a skirt chaser. Ye deserve to be with a good lad like me Derrick.”
Talia snorted.
If only he kent what his Derrick has been up to.
She didn’t exactly look for gossip, but many a young lass had come to her to seek advice on how to snag his attention, and when they ultimately had their hearts broken, they sought remedies to stop the pain.
“I believe ye, Mr. Douglas,” she told him. “But I daenae wish to marry. I wish to continue working as a healer. If I marry and move into a large castle far away, who would care for yer burns and aches?”
“Aye, ye make a good point,” he relented. “But promise me ye will consider me Derrick.”
“I make nay promises I cannae keep, and ye ken it, Mr. Douglas.”
He laughed and took her hands in his own, patting them. “‘Tis nae good for ye to be alone,” he said in a softer tone. “I ken ye miss yer father, but a husband and children might make this large house a little less lonely.”
She smiled at him, squeezing his hands. “I will never be lonely,” she assured him. “Nae when I have ye and all the villagers comin' in and out of the house every day.”
He laughed and shook his head. “I shall nae take up any more of yer time. I will send the Missus later with some pie for ye. I ken ye love her pies.”
“Indeed, I do.” She grinned.
She walked him to the door and helped him put on his coat. But as she opened the door, she noticed an unfamiliar man walking up the cobblestoned path leading to the house.
Is he a new patient?
“Have a good day, Miss Collins,” Mr. Douglas said, nodding at her.
“Ye as well, Mr. Douglas.”
She watched him speak with the stranger, before stepping back into her room to clean up her worktable. No doubt he would interrogate the man and threaten him before letting him get close to the house.
The villagers had become even more protective of her since her adoptive father died, and she found it endearing. It would be hard on her if she ever had to leave them behind.
She heard the stranger knock on the front door, clearly finally free of Mr. Douglas’s questioning, and focused on her task. The butler would see to whoever the man was, and if he needed her attention, he would let her know.
Her workroom was set on the ground floor of her two-story townhouse. In fact, it had been set up by her adoptive father once she had shown an interest in the art of healing.
She smiled at the heavy tomes that sat on her table, the first of the gifts that had piqued her interest.
Jonathan Boyd was a merchant who had traveled the globe sourcing treasures to trade, and some of those treasures included rare texts.
As a young girl, she was often left alone when he went on his long voyages.
With naught to do, she started reading. It was in these texts that she had first developed an interest in human anatomy and how ailments could be cured.
When she had proposed the idea of further training in the arts of healing, he had found her a healer she could learn under and provided everything she would need to perfect her learning.
For as long as she could remember, Jonathan hadn’t denied her anything, and with his access to different parts of the world she could only dream of visiting, he provided her access to knowledge that would have been otherwise out of her reach.
Tears pooled in her eyes as she thought of how he had passed in this very room.
The scent of sickness that had enveloped him as the light in his eyes dimmed as the days passed.
For all the knowledge she possessed, she had been unable to stop the wasting cough he had caught on one of his many travels.
On days when she was reminded of how he had looked in his final moments, she wished to be anywhere but the house that reminded her of his death. But where would she go?
She knew of no other family outside her adoptive father and no other home outside this one.
“Miss Collins?” Albert, the butler, called from outside the door, pulling her out of her thoughts.
“Aye, Albert?”
“There is someone here to see ye,” he announced.
“Show him in,” she answered, eyeing her stock of herbs and medicines.
She had thought Mr. Douglas was her last patient that morning before she could replenish her stores. She certainly hoped she had enough to treat whatever ailment plagued the man.
She turned around when the door opened, and was surprised at the sight of the man who stepped inside.
Her usual patients were the villagers, but the man who stepped inside was too well-dressed, with no visible signs of illness. He eyed the room warily and wrinkled his nose. The smell of herbs and medicines must have irritated him. Nonetheless, she wanted to know who he was.
“Good day, Miss Collins,” he greeted.
“Good day.”
“I am Odhran McCain,” he said. “I am sorry to have come so late, but I am Mr. Boyd’s solicitor, and I have the final copy of his will with me.”
Talia’s eyebrows knitted into a frown.
His will?
Her adoptive father had passed two months ago. Why did his solicitor only come now?
“It has been two months,” she pointed out. “Why did ye only come now?”
“I do understand that me arrival is rather late, and I must offer me condolences as well as me apology,” he said with a grim look. “I was away from the clan and only recently returned due to a summons from debt collectors.”
She nodded and swallowed.
“I am sorry to cause ye such discomfort, but I daenae think this is a discussion to be had while standin'.”
“Oh, I forgot me manners,” she gasped. “Do have a seat. Would ye like some tea?”
“I thank ye, but nay.” He sat on the settee, albeit warily, and waited for her to do so as well before continuing. “I have both good and bad news, Miss Collins. Which would ye prefer to hear first?”
“Good news first,” she answered. “I believe I have had enough bad news for some time.”
He smiled grimly and nodded. “Mr. Boyd left ye half of his estate,” he started. “As well as half of the proceeds from his investments. The other half is goin' to his cousin.”
Talia did not feel elated. In fact, she did not feel anything. She had not been anticipating receiving anything from Jonathan, and hearing it now only sharpened the numbness that had settled in her heart since she had laid him to rest.
In a way, she was glad she could continue treating her patients, and with the additional income, she would be able to procure costly ingredients that had run out.
She thought of Jonathan’s cousin and vaguely remembered Jonathan speaking of him fondly. Apparently, he was much too far away to visit, so they had never been introduced. She wondered if he would come visit once he heard he had an inheritance to claim.
Shaking the thoughts out of her head, she turned to the solicitor.
“What is the bad news, then?” she asked.
“Neither ye nor Mr. Boyd’s cousin can claim the inheritance until ye are married,” he stated. “He has given the responsibility of yer care and findin' ye a suitable match to his cousin.”
“Pardon?” she sputtered, rising from her seat in her outrage.
“Those were the conditions set by Mr. Boyd,” the solicitor said, looking remorseful. “I understand it may nae be palatable to hear, but—”
“Indeed, it isnae palatable,” she interrupted. “I told him I never wished to marry. Why would he do this? And I daenae need anyone to be responsible for me. I can take care of meself. I have been takin' care of meself.”
“I believe he wanted to see ye protected, Miss Collins,” the solicitor suggested in a placid tone. “And what better protection is there for ye than to be with a husband to care for—”
She shot him such a scathing glare that he clamped his mouth shut.
“What danger could I possibly be in?” she scoffed. “I am perfectly content and happy with me work as a healer. I daenae need a husband.”
“I am sorry, Miss Collins,” he said, rising, “but those are his conditions. Ye either marry, or neither ye nor his cousin get anythin'.”
Talia was filled with anger at the man who had loved her like his own, but now was too far for her to voice her displeasure at his underhanded tricks.
She had thought her well-stated arguments against the institution of marriage had finally made him accept her decision, but it seemed that he was still adamant on the matter even in the hereafter.
Well, if he was intent on being an odious oaf, she could very well be the same. After all, he had raised her to be like him.
She had already gotten by without his money these past two months. She would continue to sustain herself even if it meant that she would have to find other accommodations. No matter, she would survive.
“I thank ye for coming, Mr. McCain, but I believe I am perfectly fine without the inheritance,” she declared. “I daenae wish to marry, so ye might as well just donate it to charity.”
“I daenae think the other inheritor would agree with yer decision, Miss Collins,” he cautioned, rising from his seat.
“Let’s just hope that he continues to think I am too far for him to concern himself with me business,” she answered, squaring her shoulders. “Since he has stayed away for so long, he had better keep doing so.”
She had no intention of changing her mind, and some distant relative would not change that.
“Miss Collins—”
“I shall see ye to the door, Mr. McCain,” she interrupted, turning to the door. “I believe we have both made our points sufficiently clear to each other. I daenae wish to be married, so I forfeit all that was left to me. Ye wasted yer time in comin' here.”
She stepped out into the hallway, breathing deeply, and went to the front door. She needed this man with his aggravating news to leave her in peace.
Her mind was running in many different directions, and she knew it would not settle until she was left well alone.
“I am sorry to have offended ye, Miss Collins,” he said contritely as he stepped out into the cold air. “But I must tell ye that it is stipulated that I cannae give the money away until a month from the day ye’re informed of the terms of the will.”
“I have told ye that I daenae intend to marry, so I daenae care about the money,” she told him with a frown. “Daenae wait on me account.”
After slamming the door in his face, she leaned back against the wood and let out an angry breath. Her bravado left her as soon as she heard his steps retreating, her knees trembling.
She had wanted to escape this house since Jonathan’s funeral, but she did not think it would not be on her own terms.
Squaring her shoulders, she steeled her resolve.
If he intended to cow her into submitting herself to a life she did not want, then he was sorely mistaken.
She had to inform Albert and the rest of the servants of the decision their employer had made.
She would have to start writing those recommendations and see them situated in respectable households before she could leave.
Yes, she would do just that.
Now that she had a clear plan, her fear ebbed.
Pushing off the door, she mentally recounted the things she had to do when a jarring knock sounded at the door.
She was not expecting anyone until later in the evening. This would be another unexpected visitor, and if it was anything like the first, she was not sure she would like the coming conversation.