Chapter 14 #3
Ah, so there was intelligent life behind those frightened blue eyes.
“You’ll be safe,” he said. “Gil will make sure of that.”
“You should marry Augusta.”
He nearly stumbled, so great was his surprise. “Miss Augusta can look forward to being courted by a Mr. Henry Post-Williams, a wealthy man much respected in English social circles.”
Impatience flashed across Genie’s features. “Don’t be an ass, Ian MacGregor. She belongs with you, and you belong with her. I saw you coming across the park when you came back from that hike, and she’d nearly been hurt by the landslide. You didn’t want to let her out of your sight.”
He lost his rhythm for a moment then recovered. “I need to marry money, and Augusta deserves to resume her place in proper society. You’ll keep an eye on Gil?”
“I always do.”
Her smile was sad but genuine, and Ian realized whatever her hesitations and fears regarding marriage to the titled stranger chosen by her parents, they surely did not apply where Gil was concerned.
Which was a fine thing, considering she was going to end up wedded to the man.
· · ·
“You’re up to something.” The baron’s breath would have knocked a Highland regiment flat, but Augusta stood her ground among the potted ferns at the edge of the ballroom.
“I’m enjoying my first ball in years, Uncle. I think Hester and Genie are having a fine time as well.”
His fingers closed painfully around her arm just above the elbow, where her evening gloves would hide any bruises. “Let them dance. This time tomorrow, Genie will be all but leg-shackled to Balfour, and I can depart for more civilized surrounds shortly thereafter.”
Augusta turned so she broke his hold. “Genie has already signed the contracts.”
“Of course she has, and I had her signature witnessed. Her tears of happiness were very affecting.” He made another grab for her arm, one Augusta thought might have been rendered a tad clumsy with drink. She lifted her wrist corsage to her nose, blocking his maneuver easily.
“The groom has signed the documents as well, Uncle. His own brother witnessed his signature. You need not fret any further over Genie’s future.”
“The groom…?” Altsax’s expression turned crafty. “I knew he’d see reason. Has a certain animal cunning, Balfour does. And the settlements are really most favorable to him monetarily.”
“I’ve wondered about that.” Augusta took a step back and shook out her skirts. “Where does the money come from, Uncle? Your baronies are not that lucrative, and you claim Trevisham was riddled with debt. How can you afford to buy Genie this title and still plan on doing the same for Hester?”
His expression became, if anything, uglier. “You’re as bad as Balfour, insinuating and implying about you know not what. The contracts are signed, and I don’t owe you any explanations, my girl. You’ve been luckier than you know to rusticate away these years. Luckier than you deserve.”
He spun on his heel, listed a little into a man standing to his left, righted himself, and stalked off, leaving Augusta to eye the door and wonder how much longer she could bear to watch Ian dancing and smiling as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
· · ·
Ian had spent supper at a table reserved for him, his siblings, his intended bride, her father, sister, and aunt.
Augusta was noticeably absent from the family group, but Mary Fran was at his elbow, her every other glance going toward the door.
Con and Gil were looking no more settled than their sister, while Julia and Hester’s attempts to carry the small talk were flagging.
The baron raised his wine glass and aimed a tobacco-stained grin at Ian. “Balfour, I commend you on a delightful evening, but it’s time to accept your fate. People are drifting off to the gardens, and the dancing will soon resume. Let’s have an announcement, shall we?”
Where the hell was Augusta?
“Matthew!” Mary Fran’s whisper carried directly to Ian’s heart, the relief in her gaze suggesting she’d known exactly what Ian had charged the man with before his departure.
“Fine, Baron.” Ian took a sip of good whisky. “An announcement you shall have.” He dithered, straightening his sporran and fussing with the tucks of his kilt until Daniels had made his way across the dining room.
“Balfour, apologies for my tardiness. Baron, sisters, Aunt, Lady Mary Fran, I bid you a very good evening.” Daniels’s grave tone was at variance with his convivial words. Contrary to the rest of the gathering, he was in riding attire, his hair windblown, his clothes still reeking of dust and horse.
“Daniels, I trust your sortie was successful?” Ian put the question quietly as he got to his feet.
“Entirely successful, my lord.”
Ian passed him his unfinished whisky, catching a surreptitious wink from Daniels as he accepted the glass.
The man did have Scots blood in him, a cheering thought given the occasion.
“My lords, my ladies, friends, and neighbors.” Ian’s voice carried across the room, creating a hush worthy of a royal proclamation.
“It is always a fine occasion when we gather with our dear ones to celebrate the joys of summer, and this year my family is particularly blessed. It is my privilege and my pleasure as head of the MacGregor family to announce that Miss Eugenia Daniels, daughter of Willard Daniels, Baron of Altsax and Gribbony, and our guest for these past few weeks, will be joining the MacGregor family. Her brother, Matthew, has been good enough to procure a special license for the occasion, and I’m sure you’ll join with me in congratulating my brother Gilgallon Concannon MacGregor on his great good fortune. ”
Ian started the applause, grateful he’d thought to position his brothers between Genie and her father. Daniels was standing by the baron’s chair, a restraining hand on his father’s shoulder.
When the clapping and cheering—and ribald good wishes—died down, Ian spoke again.
“You will excuse us as a family if we repair to the library for a wee dram. Doungal has his musicians at the ready, and the footmen have been told nary a guest may go thirsty. Enjoy!”
More applause, which provided a perfect backdrop for Con and Daniels to hustle the splenetic baron from the room. Gil had his arm around Genie, and Hester and Mary Fran took over the task of accepting congratulations as the other family members processed from the room.
All in all, it had gone better than Ian could have hoped, but where in the hell was Augusta?
The library door was closed and latched, Con and Daniels positioned on either side of the door when the baron started in ranting.
“You cannot get away with this, Balfour! I’ll sue you for breach of promise.
I’ll drag your family’s wretched Scottish name through so much offal you’ll be happy to raise pigs in Nova Scotia.
You’ll be the laughingstock of the realm before I’m through with you, and you”—he turned a vicious glare on Genie—“you’ll be lucky if I can sell you to a poxy old squire for breeding purposes after this night’s work. ”
“Enough.” Ian advanced on the baron, whose nose was positively glowing with ire and strong drink.
“Your daughter’s happiness should mean more to you than any damned title.
I’ve not signed the contracts. You have no grounds for breach.
Genie cannot testify against Gil once they’re wed, so you have no case. ”
“Have no case!” The baron positively shrieked. “I’ll try this in the courts! I’ll try this in the court of public opinion! I’ll—”
Gil moved so quickly Ian couldn’t stop him. In the blink of an eye, Altsax was crammed against the paneling, eyes bulging, his breath wheezing from his lungs.
“You will shut up, old man. I’ve signed those contracts myself, before a sober, adult witness, and they are legal and binding.”
“But you’re not Balfour!” the baron hissed.
Gil eased his elbow from the baron’s throat, and a moment of odd silence descended.
Augusta had done this. Ian’s brain reeled to think she’d seen Gil’s hand set to the very contracts, something Ian hadn’t thought to do. Ian’s mind started parsing the legalities, the details, the language he himself had written even as Gil spoke quietly to his future father-in-law.
“This is a fait accompli, Baron. Your best course is to put a good face on it and wish your daughter well.”
“I will never capitulate to this farce. Those contracts were unassailably clear. I read them myself.”
But so, apparently, had somebody a hell of a lot smarter than the baron.