Chapter Two
Jamie watched Mari’s face pale as she read the news. He sat down quickly beside her should she swoon, although he didn’t think she was really the type to give in to the vapors. But if it gave him an opportunity to hold her again…
Mari took a deep breath and raised her eyes to her aunt. “He’s been loose for two days. How could this have happened?”
Jamie tugged the paper from her clenched hands and skimmed it. “Apparently, the mon had an accomplice. It says here he had a French visitor the day before he made his escape.”
“Do not the guards check visitors for weapons?” Mari asked as she looked at Jamie.
“Aye, I’m sure they do. But the paper says he picked the lock to his cell. Such a slim piece of steel would nae be hard to hide.”
“Why was he allowed a visitor anyway? Wesley was being held for observation. If sane, he will be tried for treason.”
“I dinnae ken, lass. Mayhap a guard was bribed. A gold coin or two could feed a mon’s family for a verra long time.”
“Treason?” Aunt Agnes asked, her pale-blue eyes wide. “I thought he had tried forcing Jillian…well, to have his way with her.”
“He did try, Auntie,” Mari replied, her voice shaky, “but Ian returned in time to stop that.”
“I will be forever grateful that he did,” her aunt said, “but how does that relate to treason? I thought Wesley Alton professed to be a war hero.”
Jamie guffawed. “Aye, the miserable liar did say he helped Wellington secure the bridge at Vitoria, but Alton had been sent away to France by his father for—” He stopped and looked at Mari.
“For having relations with his stepmother,” Mari finished. “Jillian told me.”
Aunt Agnes gasped. “Mercy, child. You simply cannot go around talking about such things in such a bold fashion.”
“Well, that is what happened,” Mari said unapologetically. “Wesley thought Jillian looked like his stepmother too.”
Aunt Agnes reached for her smelling salts.
Jamie refrained from grinning. Mayhap proper London Society would be in for a wee surprise this fall. “Alton took the name Gerard Fontaine and offered to spy for the English, since he was well-accustomed to French ways.”
“And Jillian said—”
“I do not think I care to know any more of what Jillian said,” Aunt Agnes interrupted, managing a stern look at Mari.
“’Twas a wee bit of luck that Ian has two Frenchmen bordering his lands—exiles from the revolution—but with ties to former countrymen,” Jamie continued, “’Twas they who discovered Alton was working for Napoleon and had even helped him escape from Elba.”
“Oh, my.” Aunt Agnes fanned herself furiously. “I had no idea such intrigue was being played out.”
Mari looked at Jamie. “Jillian should know about Wesley escaping.”
“Aye. Chances are the mon caught the first vessel to France, but ’tis better to warn Ian.”
“With Napoleon defeated, would it be safe for Wesley to go back?”
Jamie shrugged. “Safer than to stay here, lass. In France, he’s not a wanted mon.
I will speak to Givens about finding someone who can ride north.
Snow sets in the passes early in Scotland.
The sooner the message is relayed to Ian, the better.
” He didn’t even want to think about the blistering he would get from his brother for not being on the estates with this happening, but what choice did he have?
“You are not planning to go yourself?” Mari asked, a little too brightly.
Jamie paused. Was that hope in Mari’s voice that he would go or that he would stay?
He was hard-put to decide since her face, usually expressive, remained as impassive as a faro player’s.
If she really wished him to go, then that was a direct challenge to convince her she wanted him to stay. He never turned down a challenge.
Jamie gave Mari an easy grin. “Dinnae fash, lass. I will nae leave. How else could I be by yer side, day and night?”
Mari stared at him. “Are you implying you’ll be sleeping in my bed, sirrah?”
His grin widened. “Nae, but if ye wish me to…”
Aunt Agnes made a strangled sound and reached for her salts again.
Whatever possessed me to blurt that out, Mari thought as Jamie left the parlor in search of Givens.
Her dear aunt’s face had turned an unlovely shade of near purple.
It would not do to give her an apoplexy because Mari’s tongue ran ahead of her brain.
How many times had her aunt—and Jillian—warned her the gentlemen of the ton expected charm and decorum from young ladies?
Never mind the snippy, snide remarks married women were allowed to make.
She would simply have to stop being so outspoken.
Somehow, though, Jamie MacLeod managed to provoke her at every turn.
What in the world had he meant by staying at her side day and night?
She should have realized Jamie had been baiting her—again.
Not even a semi-wild rogue from some far north isle inhabited mostly by sheep would presume to bed a virginal innocent—would he?
Not that Mari was exactly an innocent. She had allowed a distant cousin to kiss her at a house party last year.
That kiss had landed somewhat clumsily only halfway on her lips.
Truth be told though, it had left her wondering what all the excitement was about.
Mari felt her face heat as she recalled how her body had reacted to Jamie’s touch in the carriage. And when he’d mentioned kissing her, why had her insides gone all soft, mushy and warm?
Pushing the thought from her mind, Mari refocused on what Jamie had just said.
Did he intend to be her escort to every invitation she received?
That would not do. Mari’s intent was to find a suitable husband—someone genteel and sophisticated who could smoothly host a soiree in Town or a weekend house party in the country.
Someone not given to solving problems with his fists or other violence.
Certainly not someone who carried a knife in his boot and another on his belt and preferred to have a huge claymore strapped to his back.
Would the man sleep with those weapons on his wedding night?
Good heavens. Where had that thought come from? Jamie MacLeod was the most unsuitable man she could ever consider—unpredictable, opinionated, obstinate—
“Your houseguest seems to be somewhat presumptive,” Aunt Agnes said, interrupting Mari’s thoughts.
An understatement if she’d ever heard one. “Auntie, I do not think it wise to allow Mr. MacLeod to stay under our roof. I would not want to create a scandal.”
“Ordinarily, I would agree with you, Marissa. However, we do not know the whereabouts of Mr. Alton nor the state of his mind. Given the circumstances, it would be better to be safe than sorry. I doubt either Givens or Dobbs has ever handled a gun, let alone used one.”
Just give Jamie a little time, Mari thought grimly.
He’d probably have both of them in the courtyard sparring with the footmen.
This was probably not the best idea to share right now.
“Mr. MacLeod fights with a huge sword,” she said.
“We can hardly allow him to wander about London’s streets brandishing that. ”
Her aunt smiled for the first time since Mari had arrived. “My dear, I have a feeling Mr. MacLeod is just as adroit with a pistol or his hands, for that matter.”
A host of butterflies Mari hadn’t known to be roosting in her stomach suddenly fluttered to life as she recalled Jamie’s hands—around her waist, on her shoulders, holding her tight against him in the carriage…
Merciful heavens. What was wrong with her?
She needed to stop thinking about Jamie MacLeod.
“Besides,” her aunt continued, “he is the brother of the Earl of Cantford and the brother-in-law of the Marchioness of Newburn. I doubt the ton would dare look down their collective noses, considering the relationships.”
Her aunt was probably right. The ton revered titles above all else. The bright side was all the matrons would know Jamie’s ties too, which meant they would practically hurl their eligible daughters at him.
Mari smiled. Jamie would be too busy dealing with determined mamas at the balls and parties to pay much attention to her.
Which was exactly the way she wanted it.
“I am so glad to see you.” Madeline Winslow threw her arms around Mari in the foyer two mornings later, dancing a happy jig with her.
“I am glad you are here, Maddie,” Mari replied, dragging her friend into the drawing room. “I want to hear all the news.”
“Of course, but first tell me who was that devilishly handsome man leaving your house as I was coming up the stairs? At this early hour, his departure really could be quite scandalous if any of the gossips saw him—your aunt is here to chaperone, I presume? I would not—”
“Stop, Maddie.” Mari held up her hand, smiling at her friend’s non-stop questions. “He is Ian’s brother. And devil is a good description. He enjoys tormenting me.”
“Ooooh. You are so lucky, having someone like that in the family.” Maddie’s green eyes sparkled with mischief. “He does have a dangerous look with those golden, wolfish eyes and that long, dark hair, but it is quite alluring. Violetta and Amelia will be so jealous of you at the first party Friday.”
“This Friday?”
“Yes, Lady Tindale is having a soiree as a sort of ice-breaker for the Little Season. The invitation came a few days ago.”
“I have not received one.”
“Oh, I am sure you will, once Lady Tindale knows you are in Town. Have you left calling cards yet?”