Chapter Sixteen #2
Lachlan turned to see Cuthbert beaming with all the excitement of a child at Christmas.
His behaviour was baffling. Since his arrival at Drumocher, Cuthbert’s persona had been one Lachlan didn’t recognise.
He’d been difficult, antagonistic, and cunning in his attempt to use Helene as bait to force rivalry and a wager between himself and Lachlan.
Now, he’d suddenly capitulated, gifting Helene to Lachlan as if she were Cuthbert’s property to hand over.
‘Dispense with yer good wishes, for the lass has nae desire to marry.’
‘You’ve already proposed?’
‘Nae.’
Cuthbert grimaced. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘The lass has a cynical view of marriage.’
‘How so?’
‘She refuses to be a bargaining tool in her father’s ambitions to marry her off for the purpose of a beneficial alliance.’
‘Well, I for one can understand not wanting a lifelong attachment to someone with whom I share no connection. Then again, matters of the heart do not trump the forging of alliances when it comes to the retention or gain of titles, wealth, power, and position.’
‘Aye,’ agreed Lachlan.
Cuthbert shook his head as if baffled. ‘So why the defeatist attitude if you have feelings for Helene?’
‘I’ve learned my lesson ne’er to pursue or force marriage on a lass who doesnae wish it, and certainly not if there’s nae place for me in her heart. ’Tis like the capture and caging of a bird, and I’ll not do that to Helene.’
Cuthbert shrugged. ‘A bird learns to live happily within its confines, though you needn’t worry about clipping Helene’s wings. There’s nothing forced about the attraction between you both. In fact, it’s almost sickening to observe.’
Lachlan lifted a single eyebrow.
Cuthbert rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, come on, cousin! You’re not blind to it, surely?’
‘I fear the attraction is one-sided.’
‘Good Lord, man! I never picked you to be such an imbecile. That spark, that connection I spoke of. You and Helene share it beyond doubt.’
Lachlan shook his head. ‘Even if it were so, she doesnae wish to marry anyone and said she’s nae need of a husband. Nor does she want bairns.’
‘But she told me . . .’
Cuthbert’s unfinished slip drew a sharp look from Lachlan. ‘She told ye what?’
‘Otherwise.’ Cuthbert swallowed and made a dismissive hand gesture. ‘She simply told me otherwise.’ He stared at his feet and tugged at one ear. ‘This doesn’t make sense,’ he muttered.
Lachlan wasn’t sure if Cuthbert intended for him to hear those last few words. All the same, Lachlan called him out on it. ‘What do ye mean, this doesnae make sense?’
Cuthbert opened his mouth to say something only to snap it shut again.
‘As ye said, Cuthbert, a truce and the truth.’ Impatience seeped into the rising inflection of Lachlan’s tone. ‘Ye’ve heard it from me, now I’ll hear it from ye.’
Cuthbert blinked rapidly and rubbed the back of his neck. He took a deep breath before clearing his throat and looked suddenly nervous. ‘All right then, but you must understand that what I did, I did for you. I genuinely had, and still have, your best interests at heart.’
Lachlan’s skin prickled with a sense of unease over what Cuthbert was about to disclose.
‘Five years ago, after Tibbie . . .’ Cuthbert cleared his throat. ‘Well, it was several months after that, and at my prompting, you and I wagered our first bet, remember?’
How could Lachlan forget? Cuthbert had convinced him to attend the London Season, with all its frivolity, balls, and parties.
At the time, it was just what Lachlan had needed.
The perfect distraction to quell the damaging effects of duplicity, disappointment, and broken trust, and bury himself in the softness of a willing woman simply for the sport of it. ‘Aye, I remember.’
‘You won that very first wager, didn’t you?’
Lachlan nodded half-heartedly.
‘In fact, you won three out of the five years we wagered on a woman.’
‘Meaningless beddings,’ grunted Lachlan, shamefaced.
‘Nonetheless, it’s clear, women fancy you well and above me. And with good reason.’
Lachlan noted the way Cuthbert diverted his gaze when quietly muttering those last four words. He was going to ask Cuthbert what he meant, then passed it off as a lame attempt at paying Lachlan a compliment. ‘Where are ye going with all this? Get to the point!’
Cuthbert sat himself down on the trunk of a nearby fallen tree, forearms braced on his thighs and hands clasped together as if in prayer.
‘You’re a good man, Lachlan, and I’ve always wanted for you that which you so admired about your parents, and what you had once hoped for in your life.
It’s what any person would wish for themselves.
A marriage born of love, affection, companionship, and honesty, of mutual admiration and respect.
‘Having each other’s trust and sharing the ability to deal with a crisis or stress.
Then there’s empathy and sensitivity and .
. . Well, given what Tibbie put you through, I understand the reasons why you turned your back on the notion of ever being blessed with what your parents shared.
Nonetheless, I took it upon myself to prove you wrong. ’
Lachlan’s gaze sharpened on Cuthbert. ‘What have ye done?’
Cuthbert wrung his hands together and stared at the moss-covered ground at his feet. His drawn-out silence was punctuated by the high-pitched call of an osprey perched on a limb overhead.
Lachlan’s patience gave way and he shouted, ‘What have you done?’
Cuthbert sprang to his feet and shouted back, ‘I set you both up! All right? I set you up with Helene because I know, in my heart of hearts, she is your true match.’ His chest rose and fell on a deep breath.
Lachlan’s fierce and incredulous stare brooked no argument in insisting Cuthbert hurry to explain himself.
‘I had hoped to introduce you both at this year’s Season and to engineer opportunities to bring you together as much as possible so that you could both discover what I already saw.
When your mother took ill and you cancelled your trip to London, I was determined to bring Helene to you, lest her father finally put his foot down and force her into marrying one of her many suitors. ’
Cuthbert took another deep breath. Words sprayed from his mouth like a convicted man desperate to plead his case.
‘She and my sister are close friends. I’ve had ample time and occasions in which to observe Helene, her character, her demeanour, her opinions, her beliefs, her likes and dislikes.
And in knowing you as well as I do, it is my firm opinion she embodies all, and more, of that special someone of whom you’d approve, and whom you’d agree was your equal. ’
Another deep breath. ‘It was at my instigation, pending yours and Penforth’s approval, that Agnes invited Helene to journey to Scotland with us and to holiday here at Drumocher in lieu of her being paraded at this year’s Season.’
Seemingly exhausted from his outpouring of truth, Cuthbert sank down to sit on the log again, elbows propped on his thighs and forehead resting on the heels of his palms.
Lachlan’s mind whirled. A set-up. Executed with good intention, but now was not the time to deliberate the merits of the outcome. There had to be more to Cuthbert’s confession. ‘Go on,’ he pressed.
Cuthbert raised his head to look at Lachlan. ‘The reason I’d hoped you’d agree to one last wager between us was because I’d convinced myself one kiss from Helene would leave you smitten and wanting for more.’
Cuthbert had hit the mark on that count, but he’d deceitfully assumed the role of a puppet master, attempting to manipulate emotions and heartstrings without Lachlan’s or Helene’s consent. It triggered resentment and simmering blood in Lachlan’s veins.
‘When you refused to play the game, I forced your hand, goading you by saying you’d have to protect Helene from me.
Shadowing me put you at Helene’s side, in her company, her confidence, her conversation.
In fact, I inwardly rejoiced when you made the journey together to the shielings.
From what you’ve divulged of your feelings for Helene, it would seem you are now like a moth to the flame. ’
‘Aye! And my gut tells me I’m about to get singed.’
Sweat beaded on Cuthbert’s forehead. He swallowed, evading Lachlan’s direct stare. ‘There’s more,’ said Cuthbert, wiping his brow with the back of one hand.
Lachlan gave a curt nod. ‘Continue.’
‘When Agnes extended the invitation to Helene to accompany us to Scotland, Helene declined and would not be swayed until I . . .’
‘Until ye what?’
‘Intervened. I had a quiet word with Helene on one occasion when she visited the house, encouraging her to change her mind, if only to make Agnes happy. It seemed her reluctance to visit Scotland far outweighed any loyalties in her friendship with my sister.
‘When she would not be swayed, I asked what it would take for her to change her mind. “Considerable coin,” she replied. I laughed, thinking her quick-witted, but no, she was damned serious. I agreed to her price under one condition . . .’
Every muscle in Lachlan’s body tensed.
‘That she allow herself to be seduced by you, if only in the form of a kiss. When you wouldn’t comply, I had to change tactics. I insisted that if Helene were to claim her prize, she be the one to initiate intimacy with you.’
Simmering blood ramped up to a slow boil. In need of more answers, Lachlan kept his anger in check and his voice devoid of emotion. ‘What did she know of our wagers or of your meddling little plan?’
‘Nothing. I told her nothing, although she did, in passing, make a quip about our rakish reputations.’
‘And just how much did you wager on my heart?’
Cuthbert gulped. ‘A substantial sum.’
‘She would already have a large dowry, so why would she be in need of money?’
Cuthbert shrugged. ‘We both wanted something from the other and agreed not to question the whys and wherefores of our individual motives.’
Lachlan’s hands balled into fists. ‘Last night, at her door, what was the significance of the parchment ye handed her?’
Cuthbert released a shuddering breath. ‘A promissory note. After the evening meal, when you escorted your mother from the room, I tricked Helene into admitting you both had indeed shared a kiss. She then called in the promissory note, insisting I deliver it to her door at midnight. A time and place when all would be abed. Or so we thought.’ Cuthbert had the good grace to look sheepish.
Lachlan turned from his cousin to face the loch.
The sun had begun its ascent, warming the air and thinning the mist. Crisp scents of Scots pine and balsam fir filled the air, and a breeze set cone-laden branches in motion.
For all nature’s impressive tranquillity, it did nothing to ease Lachlan’s misery.
Cuthbert pleaded at his back. ‘Believe me when I say money is not the key issue here. My meddling little plan, as you prefer to call it, has worked brilliantly. A spark has ignited, the fuse lit between you and Helene. It’s a relationship sure to flourish.
I have every faith in it doing so, though I must warn you—Helene told me last night she is already spoken for.
Personally, I don’t believe it, but if there’s an ounce of truth to it, then declare your hand or at least court her before we return to London by summer’s end. ’
The buzzing in Lachlan’s head grew louder with every breath he inhaled. For the second time, a lass had taken him for a fool, and suddenly, in his mind’s eye, he saw and heard Tibbie laughing at him for all his ignorance.
The buzzing intensified as images assailed him in short, sharp bursts.
Of finding his then betrothed hiding inside a cave, deep in the woods.
Her confession of love for the man who lay with his head resting in her lap, a wanted Jacobite rebel with no hope of surviving wounds sustained in a skirmish with redcoats.
And days later, having thrown herself on a blade, Tibbie’s body slumped over the man’s unmarked grave.
Lachlan had been oblivious to the signs of Tibbie’s betrayal, just as he’d been blind to Helene’s deception.
The difference being, if he didn’t care for Helene so profoundly bone-deep, his devastated heart would feel no pain.
He put a hand to his throbbing temples and winced from the pounding in his ears.
‘Are you listening to me?’ urged Cuthbert. ‘If you’ve a chance at love, don’t throw it away. Leave no room for regrets.’
The words reached Lachlan through the thick of his anguish. Anger soared with his elevated pulse, and the tight rein he’d held on his growing hostility towards his cousin finally snapped. He spun around, his fist connecting with Cuthbert’s face.
The blow sent Cuthbert reeling backwards and to the ground. Lachlan stood over him and bellowed, ‘Ye had nae right! Nae right to wager on my heart or Helene’s! And dinnae be lecturing me on the merits of love when ye’re nae expert on the matter.’
Cuthbert propped himself up on one elbow, shook his head, and gave a cynical chuckle. ‘You’re wrong about that.’
Strands of fair hair, having loosened from its queue, fell over Cuthbert’s eyes.
He spat blood from his mouth onto the ground and then used the back of his free hand to wipe his bloodied nose.
A freshly laundered kerchief from his coat pocket served to wipe his blood-smeared face.
He looked wretched, defeated, and forlorn, just as he had that day in Drumocher’s library when divulging the marriage ultimatum his father had enforced on him.
When he lifted his gaze, Lachlan saw once again in those pale-blue eyes that something seemed very much out of place.
Animosity towards his cousin gave way to pity. ‘How could ye possibly ken how or what I feel for Helene when ye’ve ne’er experienced anything like it?’
One corner of Cuthbert’s mouth lifted in a half-smile.
‘On the contrary, I’ve experienced first-hand those things you mentioned, your gut reaction when you first met Helene and the debilitating dizzy ways she affects you.
I know this because I share a deep and abiding love with someone. Have done so for years.’
Cuthbert’s tone turned melancholic. ‘But you see, in keeping up appearances, my love and I are like villains in a play and wear a permanent invisible mask. A mask we dare not remove except in the safest, most guarded, and private of moments.’ He looked away. ‘When the world is not watching.’
‘Dinnae speak in riddles. Speak plain and true. Who is she? Name her.’
‘Very well.’ Cuthbert paused, then cut Lachlan a bitter glance. ‘Unlike you, dear cousin, I’ll never have the privilege or the right or the opportunity to marry and spend the rest of my life with . . . him.’