Chapter 2
On the final day of their arduous journey, Quinn Ferguson decided it was time to hire a post chaise.
He didn’t want his sister riding into her mother’s home town and meeting that side of her family for the first time bedraggled and smelling of horse.
She was going to pitch the worst fit imaginable, and the wicked child could throw one hell of a fit, but he would stay the course and toss a sack over her head and stuff her in with the luggage if he had to.
Sure enough, when she came down from her room at the dusty, unfriendly inn— God, he was already sick of the English— she saw the bags being loaded into the coach and dug in her heels.
He glanced around quickly to make sure there weren’t too many people around if she made a scene, and took a few forceful steps toward her, keeping his face as fearsome as he knew how to make it.
The couple of maids who were up and about in the front hall of the place saw him and scarpered.
At least someone was properly afraid of him.
Catriona Ferguson, his seventeen year old half-sister, was most definitely not. He sighed and dropped his fierce facade.
“Sorry, Catie, lass. We canna ride into London. Ye must be fresh and respectable looking.”
He didn’t want to add that her English relatives probably already had some preconceived notions about her and how she’d been raised. He’d be damned if he let any of them have the satisfaction of supposing themselves right.
Shockingly, she pressed her lips together in a face he dearly hoped she wouldn’t make too often when they were in London, as they were looking for a husband for her after all, and merely nodded.
“Let’s be off then,” she said, and he groaned to himself to hear the tears in her voice.
Bugger it all. Perhaps she was remembering their tense dinner when they’d arrived at the inn, weary and on edge.
For the hundredth time she’d tried to finagle him back to Scotland and for the hundredth time he’d told her she needed to do her duty (whatever that meant.
He’d heard it from his older brother Lachlan enough times and still wasn’t sure even in regards to himself) and meet her kinfolk.
Of course she was terrified to meet a bunch of grand titled English, and was trying to get out of it any way she could.
The argument had degraded to her reminding him he’d missed her birthday, and not for the first time.
He’d felt guilty and she’d gone to bed knowing she had the upper hand.
It was going to bite him in the arse somehow, sometime soon.
God, but he didn’t want to get in the chaise. With a lingering look in the direction of his faraway homeland, he took a deep breath and climbed up after her.
He decided to take the wee bull by the horns. “Catie, we are going to London to meet your kin, and that is final.”
She sat in silence, staring out the window for several long miles and he closed his eyes to get some rest. He’d sat up in the inn’s pub for far too long the night before, drinking and letting one of the barmaids try to put him in a better mood.
It hadn’t worked, but he’d appreciated her efforts until the owner of the place had chased her off with a tongue lashing and given him filthy glares until Quinn made his way to his room alone, just hours before dawn.
“I’m terribly excited for my season, brother,” she said after a while, in bizarre, stilted tones.
“What is that ye’re doing?” he asked, opening his eyes and staring at her. “Ye sound as if someone crammed something where they shouldna have.”
“I’m practicing my proper English,” she said.
“Well, dinna do it anymore or I shall turn this carriage around.”
“That’s fine with me,” she pouted. “I dinna know why I must go in the first place.”
“We’re going,” he sighed in exasperation.
“Who died and made ye the boss of me?” she asked, her face falling when she realized what she’d said.
It didn’t get any easier, missing Lachlan, even knowing the truth.
Quinn reached over and smoothed her hair, knowing she felt bad about the outburst and not wanting to make it worse for her.
He didn’t like lying to her. But how could he explain the truth?
He couldn’t, so he had to let her believe Lachlan was dead.
Which made him the boss of her.
She crammed herself into the farthest corner of the carriage and pressed her face against the window. He patted her arm awkwardly.
His baby sister was the one person he held most dear. They’d been all each other had after her mother died and their sot of a father shuffled off the mortal coil shortly after. Their older brother Lachlan ignored them most of the time and bossed them around the rest of it.
At five years older than Catie, Quinn spent his whole life feeling half like he was responsible for her and half like they were partners in crime.
Even after Aunt Gwen took Catie to live with her when the lass was thirteen, citing she was running wild and going barefoot and learning language a young lady needn’t know, Quinn had visited every chance he could.
He missed her terribly those years, but only wanted the best for her.
It was difficult transitioning to being the one in charge.
It was a heavy burden, but one he was left to bear now that Lachlan was gone.
“I’m sorry I missed your birthday, lass,” Quinn said to change the subject. He’d rather her be mad at him than sad about Lachlan.
“Ye’ve missed a lot of them,” she said with a shrug, which didn’t make him feel any better. “I guess now I’m of an age where ye can be rid of me,” she continued, looking out the window with a poorly concealed sniffle.
“Och, it isna that at all,” he said. He took a deep breath. “It was your mother’s dying wish that ye meet your English relations and make a good match so ye can inherit.”
Catie sat in silence. She was an infant when her mother died and he didn’t think she remembered a thing about her.
She had a miniature portrait and a locket and those were her only keepsakes.
At least Quinn remembered a bit about his mother.
He made to pat her comfortingly when she came back at him with the full force of her attitude.
“Inherit what?” she snorted. “My share of the farm? I’m better off staying with Auntie Gwen than be underfoot there. Though I’m much better at caring for goats than I was. I should just marry one of the goatherds. We get on well enough.”
“Catie, ye canna marry a goatherd, not even if ye managed to convince me ye were in love with one of them.” He held up his hand to stop any cheek.
“Dinna start with me. Do ye forget I know Auntie Gwen’s farmhands as well as ye do?
One is bald as an egg with a great hooked nose, and the other is seventy if he’s a day. ”
“Well, perhaps I’m not nearly as shallow as ye are, Quinn,” she said. “Love is supposed to be blind.”
He ignored her and with another deep breath tried to explain. “Ye wee terror, ye are a verra rich lass. Your mother left ye an inheritance that ye can only collect when ye’re properly wed.”
She gawped at him. “We’re rich?” she asked, then frowned. “We dinna act rich. I’ve mended far more stockings than a rich person should have to.”
“We are not rich,” he clarified. “Ye are. And only when ye’re married. Properly,” he added with an eye roll.
“What does that mean?” she asked, turning to him and shaking his arm.
“Hell if I even know,” he admitted. “It’s why I’ve arranged for ye to have a chaperone. A proper Englishwoman who has experience with brats like yourself. She shall know how to get around the gentry and all their rules.”
Catie grimaced at that pronouncement, and in truth, he’d been keeping it from her.
Her mother’s sister had suggested it during their correspondence since she mostly lived at her country residence and admitted to being quite terrified to take Catie about the city on her own.
She’d sent him a reference and offered to meet the young lady before he hired her, and now it was all set up.
“Ye’ll stay with me at my Aunt Amberly’s house?” she asked hopefully, clearly not liking the idea of staying alone with strangers.
He rolled his shoulders and looked out the window, unable to look her in the eye in case she started to tear up.
He could not handle even the hint of a tear and she knew it.
“No, I shall stay at an inn so I dinna embarrass ye,” he said, trying to keep his reasons light.
He hadn’t in fact been invited to stay at the Amberly’s house.
“Ye could never embarrass me,” Catie said indignantly.
“That sounds like a challenge,” Quinn said. “It will be better if ye learn to be on your own. And ye’ll have the chaperone. Miss Burnet I think her name is.”
“Ugh, the chaperone. I’ll bet she’s a dried up spinster who hits me.”
Quinn didn’t know much about the lady he’d hired, only that she was well educated and had a solid reputation for her charges making good matches.
He very much hoped she could hold her own against Catie’s strong will.
“Ye’ll be respectful to her or I shall be the one hitting ye.
Poor lass, having to put up with the likes of ye to earn her bread. ”
“How verra rich am I?” She bounced in her seat with fresh excitement about her new circumstances. “Can I buy a new bonnet straight away?”
He laughed at her innocence and decided not to tell her the amount.
They didn’t often speak of money and she wouldn’t understand the large amount or what it meant to her future.
And while she hadn’t been raised in a sumptuous lifestyle, they had all they needed, and she’d never gone without.
Well, perhaps she’d gone without as many bonnets as she wanted, but Auntie Gwen would never have allowed her to be spoiled, and there wasn’t much use for finery on the farm.
“We shall see if ye behave,” he said, which earned him a smack on the arm.
“I should remind ye of the same,” she said, turning serious.
“If I’m to attract someone proper, ye mustna be swearing the way ye so often do, and ye must be careful of your whisky consumption.
Ye shouldna gamble either. And no flirting, even if the lasses start with ye.
And try to look smaller. Ye frighten everyone, ye’re so big. ”
He blanched at her words. Of course he couldn’t have expected his reputation not to reach her.
He just never thought his own behavior would ever affect her.
“I shall be the finest gentleman in all of London,” he promised, meaning it.
He didn’t want to lose his beloved sister to her English relations, but he wanted the best for her.
“My great size notwithstanding,” he added with a smirk.
That very moment the carriage came to a jolting stop and listed sharply to the side. He hissed a string of curses as he looked out the window to see they’d thrown a wheel.
“Bugger, this is going to set us back another day,” he said, climbing over her to get out and help the driver.
“Ye didna even notice all the words that just came out of your mouth, did ye?” she asked.
He paused, realized she was right, and frowned.
“I think ye should promise to buy me something new every time ye swear. Ye’re so cheap that might get ye to think before ye open your mouth.
And I shall have all the gloves and ribbons and bonnets I’ve ever wanted.
” The greedy wee thing rubbed her hands together.
He raised an eyebrow dismissively. “We shall see about that.”