Chapter 8
‘And what would I gain from this match?’
The truth was that Lochranza bristled with indecision. On the one hand, she would not be forced. On the other, she couldn’t wait to escape the claustrophobic atmosphere of the estate, the round of balls and soirées that offered her nothing but boredom.
Lord Kildare had his back to her, ostensibly examining a glass dome full of tiny yellow, blue and green birds.
To the onlooker, he appeared more interested in them than in her, his niece.
The truth was more complicated. It pained him to look at her and he was not a man who either experienced or endured pain – emotional pain – very easily.
He sometimes wished that she would broach the subject of her mother, yet she never had.
As O’Neill had said, her childhood memories had been wiped out.
She’d been told her mother had died when she’d been born and so too had Sir Edward, the man supposedly her father.
She knew little of either of them, had no memory of having ever seen a likeness in oils of her mother, or any memory of her father.
‘You would most certainly see a great deal more of the world. Lord MacKinnon has estates in Surrey and Scotland but prefers his tobacco plantation in Virginia. Has he spoken to you of Virginia?’
She nodded. ‘Yes. When he proposed to me.’
He’d proposed in the orangery, the place where their attraction for each other had weakly raised its head.
MacKinnon had told her about the virgin nation, the vast expanses of land, the attitude of the people there – less rigid than here.
No monarchy, lords, dukes or earls – in fact, no aristocratic titles of any sort.
People were all equal, he’d told her. The American creed was that if you worked hard you would succeed.
He’d also told her that he never used his title over there. He was just Ethan MacKinnon.
She’d agreed to marry him. He’d been pleased. They’d kissed. They’d exchanged rings, though neither of them was that interested in glittering stones and shining gold.
Her uncle wishing to talk about her marriage had caught her off guard. Most of the time he did his best to avoid her. So why now?
‘I think you could do both your fiancé and your country some good,’ her uncle stated without diverting his attention from his dome of stuffed birds. ‘Would you be willing to serve your country, my dear?’
‘I’m not sure I know what you mean.’
‘He has returned to America. He has expressed a wish that you marry him there. His countrymen – the Americans he now calls compatriots – would look more amiably on such an arrangement. However, it does present the problem of getting you there.’
‘I can’t wait to cross the Atlantic Ocean! I would love it!’
Her uncle’s face was as sombre as ever. ‘There is a war on. A British ship would not be welcome in an American port. We have two options; the first is for you to sail to the continent and board a Dutch ship which will take you there. Alternatively, you will sail to the West Indies on a British ship and swap to a Dutch ship. Either option means some travelling at the other end, but you’re a strong girl.
I’m sure you’ll cope with it very well.’
As Lochranza studied the back of her uncle’s head, she began thinking the most ridiculous things.
The bare patch in the centre of his scalp she put down to the wig he’d worn as a young man rubbing the hair away.
The redness of his neck was probably due to too tight a collar.
Had he been a handsome man back then? Probably.
It was hard to tell. Funny how such silly thoughts invaded her mind when she should really be concentrating on the prospect of marrying MacKinnon.
‘I asked you if you were willing to serve your country.’
Her eyes sparkled. ‘Like you do?’
He seemed to chaff. ‘To some extent.’
‘How?’
He eyed her thoughtfully. ‘Lord MacKinnon has republican sympathies. I need someone close to remind him of where his true loyalties must lie. He is a peer of the realm and does work – important work for this country. However…’
‘You don’t trust him!’
‘I have no doubt that you could persuade him of his true affinity. To this end, I would require you to report on your progress in this matter. It would be very useful to me, and ultimately, very beneficial to your fiancé’s future.’
One part of her was indignant at the prospect of being handed over as a bride to a man she barely knew. The more imaginative and rebellious other half was assessing the possibilities – how to balance the negative of such an arrangement with more positive aspects.
She narrowed her eyes against the gathering dullness of the day. ‘Isn’t he of more use back there to the British cause?’
‘No. He’s more use out there in that New World wilderness.’
‘So you want me to spy on him. Is that it?’
‘Yes,’ he said slowly, quite surprised that she’d grasped the situation so quickly. ‘That is what I want you to do.’
Since Lochranza’s arrival as a child, he’d kept her at a distance. From the very first, he’d made the decision not to get too fond of her. Being too emotional could be a man’s downfall – and he certainly knew all about that!
Slowly and thoughtfully, he pulled out the chair, rested his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers.
Silence for a moment, until he pursed his lips as though he would spit out a whole string of cherry stones. Once it seemed he had made a decision, he sat back further in his chair and gathered his thoughts.
‘I know what you are,’ she said when he took so long saying anything. That’s how he was, mulling things over that had taken him by surprise and wondering why he hadn’t seen it coming.
‘You overheard that much?’
Her grey eyes held his.
Marrying a man she barely knew was something she’d always dreaded.
Making a home, having children… a woman’s lot.
It saddened her, whilst at the same time she knew she was expected to accept it as her lifetime achievement.
But she wanted more and perhaps, just perhaps, marrying this man, travelling to the New World, might bring her something extra.
There was something close to satisfaction in his expression until he saw Lochranza’s face. When he did so, he winced. She was so like her mother. So like Dulcina.
‘Yes. I will do it. I want to be a spy. It excites me.’ She had him off balance. ‘I do not believe I would make a good wife – not the kind who runs a household and bears children. But this man is different. This marriage will be different. Yes. I will spy for you.’
‘You do not have to do this. I fully accept that it is a woman’s lot in life to marry, but I will state here and now that you need not marry, not if you don’t want to.’
‘It is not my lot in life. It will never be my life! I want more. At the end of my life, I want to reflect and reach a satisfying conclusion. That I might have made a difference to the world and all who dwell therein.’
Her uncle averted his eyes. Seldom had he been faced with such fiery determination. His mind worked quickly. ‘Are you saying you do not necessarily wish to marry, but you would be my agent in the New World?’
She nodded. ‘That is exactly what I am saying.’
Lord Kildare turned over the possibilities in his mind. He’d long wanted to impose a check on MacKinnon in case his faith in the man was misplaced. Lochranza could be the link he’d been looking for.
‘MacKinnon has already taken his leave. You will follow shortly. He left you a letter. He has suggested that if you are agreeable to become his bride, you will follow him on another ship. The marriage will take place in Virginia, which is as I stated earlier.’
She closed her eyes. ‘I never thought to travel the world.’ For a moment, she ignored the fact that her travels coincided with marriage.
Her uncle’s expression was unreadable, the look in his eyes dulled as though no longer reflecting the outside world but turned inwards to peruse plans that had not existed before Lochranza had entered the room.
It was hard for him to believe her eyes could shine more brightly than those other grey eyes he had seen and loved, but they did. Her excitement was palpable, like a sea mist filling the air around them.
He forced down the feelings and memories that even now were too painful to contemplate.
She is not yours. You gave it all up. For your country. For your family. For yourself.
‘Uncle! I can’t thank you enough!’
He was taken aback when she threw her arms around him, raining kisses on both cheeks before releasing him and heading for the door.
‘I have to… make plans,’ she said, though her first thought had been to tell him that she would write a note in her diary. She’d stopped herself from saying that. He wouldn’t want her to do it. A diary, if it fell in the wrong hands, could be so damaging. Best that she threw it into the fire.
She stopped by the door, one hand draped over the shiny brass knob. ‘Tilly doesn’t want to come with me. She’s afraid of water.’
‘You have Mrs Mackintosh.’
He touched his cheek where her soft lips had kissed him.
He’d vowed to keep her safe, but his brother’s eldest son was expected to arrive in England by the end of the month.
Peter Kildare would not miss the opportunity to call in on him.
Whilst here, he would ask to see Lochranza.
The best thing would be that she set sail for America as soon as she was ready.
In America, she would be safe and beyond his detestable nephew’s reach – at least until such time as he had laid down the law as regards the family wealth and title.