The Tartan Trap (Fabric of Love #3)

Chapter 1- Callum

“Dear heavens, Cal, did you get taller?” His cousin peered at him.

With Ellis standing on the stairs, their height was nearly even—an illusion that shattered as soon as he stepped down.

Callum Burnett MacMillan, the Duke of Ettrick, removed his hat and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Hullo, Ellis.”

Behind him, the grand front door stood open to the pleasant clatter of Berkeley Square. Sunlight and a crisp breeze entered the London house along with the groomsmen still bringing in his trunks.

“I always forget how big you are.” Ellis frowned as if Callum might have been a normal height if only he’d tried.

“When have you ever paid attention to the appearance of another gentleman?”

“In your case, I should have made an exception.” Ellis made a big show of slumping his shoulders even though a smile plucked at the corners of his mouth. “Perhaps it was a mistake to agree to show you around London. With you about, the feminine set won’t take a second glance at me.”

Callum raised his eyebrows and gave a patient smile. He knew Ellis well enough to know when his cousin wanted a response and when he was quite satisfied delivering a humorous monologue.

Though they lived in separate countries, they’d spent nearly every summer together, growing up.

Ellis was the youngest of five. He’d arrived eight years after his sister, a late surprise to parents who’d thought they’d largely finished rearing children.

His parents had cheerfully shipped Ellis off to Scotland every summer since he was old enough to walk.

“Oh well,” Ellis said. “You might as well come in, anyway.”

“How kind of you to invite me into my own home.”

“Isn’t it?” he said blithely.

Callum followed him into the comfortable front sitting room. Two tufted leather sofas faced off over a carved wooden table in front of a massive stone fireplace. Callum gave a sigh as he shucked his coat and rolled his shirtsleeves up to the elbows.

It was a relief to finally be out of that carriage, a relief to be in a house with tall ceilings and fine furnishings chosen more for comfort and quality than for showing off. It was no wonder the large city house reminded him of his home outside Edinburgh—his mother had decorated them both.

“Are you in the market for a wife too, Ellis?” he asked.

Ellis reared back, his eyes wide. “Heavens, no. Not for at least another year or two.”

“I only ask because you brought up ladies. My mistake.”

Ellis sat on one of the couches and jerked his head at the footman near the sideboard. Callum sincerely hoped he was requesting tea; the breakfast at the roadside inn had been rather sparse, not to mention hours and hours past.

“Just because I like female attention doesn’t mean I’m looking to wed.” Ellis flitted a hand through the air. “I’m perusing, not seriously shopping, as you are. There’s a difference.”

Callum grunted. Like most undertakings, the idea of getting married was the easiest part. Now that he was actually here in London, the enormity of his task loomed before him.

Ellis studied him, something like a smirk around his mouth. “You needn’t look so serious. Courtship should be a lively, fun endeavor. Especially for one such as yourself.”

“What do you mean, one such as myself?”

“One who possesses title, fortune, and that ridiculous face of yours.” Ellis rolled his eyes melodramatically.

Callum pressed his lips together. For all his cousin’s joking attempts to hide it, Callum suspected this was a sore subject, indeed. Though Ellis was objectively nice-looking, with blond curls and deep-blue eyes, Callum had always bested him in any physical competition—looks included.

Callum opened his mouth to reply—though he hardly knew what he’d say—but was interrupted. Two maids bustled in, each bearing a laden tray. One was heaped with thick-cut ham sandwiches topped with bacon and cheese; the other was a tea service, complete with biscuits.

Ellis nodded at them, then turned to Callum. “I took the liberty of having this prepared—I thought you might be hungry after your journey.”

“Thank you.”

It was a quality Callum envied, that Ellis made himself at home wherever he was. For several moments, they tucked into the spread in silence.

Callum finally said, “You wouldn’t be interfering with my plans if you wanted to find a wife yourself.”

“Why, thank you,” he said sarcastically. “How magnanimous of you.”

“I only meant—”

“That I could choose from amongst the ladies you reject?” He arched one blond eyebrow.

Callum sighed and looked heavenward. “Don’t be purposefully obtuse. There are undoubtedly numerous gentlemen looking for a wife this Season. Why shouldn’t you be one of them?”

“I prefer to peruse my options in a less serious manner than you intend. Though marriage is on the eventual horizon, I see no reason why I shouldn’t enjoy myself for the time being.”

Callum frowned at the sentiment.

“Don’t you take umbrage with me,” Ellis said.

“Of course I’ll show the utmost deference and consideration toward my wife, when I finally find a lady I like well enough.

But no gentleman needs to extend vows to every lady he meets.

That’s what courting is for—to find someone you like well enough to settle down with.

Or, in my case, to find the prettiest, most amusing lady with a hefty dowry. ”

“What an admirable sentiment.”

Ellis exhaled a laugh through his nose. “I’m well aware that you aren’t worried about a lady’s dowry. Knowing you, you’re much more concerned with the character and values a lady espouses than with how many pounds trail after her down the wedding aisle.”

Callum nodded his agreement. His wife would be the first to marry into the title. He was determined she be a lady of excellent character.

Ellis dabbed his lips with a napkin. “We each have our own set of problems, make no mistake about it.”

Callum frowned. He didn’t quite see what problem he had. Other than choosing the best quality lady in England, he didn’t think there was any problem at all.

“Oh dear. Did I just see you disagreeing with me in your head?” His cousin barked a laugh.

“Do you not foresee the problems you’ll encounter?

You’re a young, wealthy duke who’s at least half a head taller than any other gentleman in the room.

Not to mention your stupid face and the fact you have all your teeth and hair. ”

“You’re making me blush,” Callum deadpanned. “What’s your point?”

He was already aware of the effect he had on ladies. His father had sat him down when he was fifteen and warned him. “You’ve got the MacMillan looks about you,” he’d said gruffly. “You look to have the height, too. Which means we need to start talking about women.”

Callum had found the conversation equal parts frightening, embarrassing, and fascinating.

In summary, his father had told him thus: the MacMillan men were handsome, and “handsome” was a weapon that could be used like any other—for good or for ill.

Callum remembered the first time a lady had truly stared at him, though once they’d started, they hadn’t seemed to stop.

Inheriting his title had only made things dreadfully worse.

He already knew this. He was prepared.

Ellis was shaking his head. “You don’t know the depths to which some London ladies would stoop in order to become a duchess.”

“You make it sound as if they’ll come after me with pitchforks.”

“Oh, I daresay they’ll be far more clever and effective than that,” Ellis said. “The finest actresses of the stage have nothing on these women, believe me.”

Callum narrowed his eyes at the hint of bitterness riding Ellis’s words.

Though he knew his cousin had suffered a romantic setback a couple years ago—a broken engagement that had been so new it thankfully hadn’t yet been announced—Ellis had made it the brunt of many of his jokes.

Now Callum wondered if the experience hadn’t hurt Ellis more than he’d let on.

In the next instant, Callum cursed himself an idiot, for of course it had.

Ellis didn’t seem to notice Callum’s introspection; he continued, “I have the benefit of no title at all, and precisely the right amount of wealth. No lady will pursue me with avarice, but my allotment isn’t so miserable it would put a wealthy one off the idea of marriage, either. You, however…”

“You’re speaking to me as if I were wet behind the ears, yet I’m eight and twenty. I’ll not have my head turned by the first pretty girl who smiles at me.”

Ellis huffed his incredulity. “I think you’re underestimating the scope of the problem.

I don’t think you’re in danger of turning into a mooning sop the first time a lady flutters her lashes at you.

It’s about figuring out which among them are actually of quality make, and which are only pretending.

Forgive me for saying so, but your late father was the luckiest of men.

He never had to wonder whether your mother’s affections lay with him or with his title. ”

Callum nodded. His mother and Ellis’s mother had been sisters, daughters of an earl.

Ellis’s mother had married the eldest son of a baron, a prudent match, whereas Callum’s mother had wed an untitled son of a Scottish landowner.

Though his father’s family was prosperous, it had been seen as a poor match, bordering on scandal.

Until Callum’s paternal grandfather was awarded the title of Duke of Ettrick, of course. Some called his mother’s choice a gamble that had paid off nicely. His parents had simply called it love.

“Here, you should read this.” Ellis winged a pamphlet at him. Callum leaned to the side just in time—its pages ruffled as it sailed neatly past his ear.

“How was I to catch that?” Callum lifted his hands, showing the teapot and cup he held.

“Very sorry. I meant for it to land next to you.”

“Your coordination hasn’t changed a bit.” Callum set the china down, stood, and retrieved the pamphlet. As he regained his seat he read, “Mr. Pickwick’s Guide to Marriageable Young Ladies. What is this?”

“It’s a guide to the ladies of the ton. I thought it might be helpful for you to see what you’re getting yourself into.”

Callum frowned, waiting for further explanation.

Ellis sighed and shoved a hand back through his blond curls. “Look, this may be hard for you to believe, but not everyone is as honorable and good as your parents.”

“I know that.” He tossed the booklet aside and rescued his tea, sipping it before it cooled too much to be palatable. “You act as if I’ve no experience amongst society.”

“I’m simply pointing out that I have more experience with ladies than you do.”

“A shocking assertion, to put it in such terms.” Callum grinned. “Besides, I’m not certain it’s ladies you’re speaking of. Women, perhaps, but not ladies.”

Ellis held up his hands. “All joking aside, I’m genuinely trying to help you. I know that I’m so rarely serious that it’s difficult to tell when I’m earnest about something. Please believe me when I say that your task of finding a good wife will be more difficult than you can possibly imagine.”

Callum studied him closely. It was true that perhaps ninety percent of the words from Ellis’s mouth were meant in jest; he was a happy, joking kind of fellow, which made him delightful company most of the time.

But he certainly looked serious now—there were creases at the corners of his mouth and eyes.

“I didn’t—” Ellis stopped and sighed. “I didn’t tell you the whole truth of what happened two years ago. With Miss Michaels.”

Callum sipped his tea and waited.

His cousin appeared to gather his courage—his shoulders straightened, he took a deep breath. “Though I made light of it at the time, I beg you not to repeat any of this—”

“I won’t.”

He nodded. “I know, which is why only you and my parents will know the full truth of it. From me, at least.”

He looked off toward the window. Callum had noticed that it was often easier for people to say difficult things when they weren’t looking another person in the eye.

“I loved her,” Ellis said simply. “I thought she loved me, too. When it came time to negotiate a contract and she found out how little I would bring to the marriage, financially speaking, she ended our attachment. She married a wealthy baron from Cumbria within the year.”

“I’m truly sorry, Ellis.” Callum’s voice was grave, his grip tight on his teacup.

His cousin gave him a sad smile. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you.

I’m not sorry. Not anymore. It was an exceedingly painful experience, but it taught me that fortune hunters can be female.

Though every gentleman knows that on some level, it’s hard to remember or suspect such motivations when a beautiful young lady is smiling up at you just so during a waltz. ”

Callum frowned. His father had said much the same thing.

He had taken seriously ill when Callum had just turned eighteen.

Every evening, Callum would sit at his bedside, and his father would instruct and question him on all manner of things—from the planting of the fields closest to the river, all the way to how a man should treat his wife and raise his family.

Callum nodded toward the pamphlet as he finished off his tea. “And you’re saying that this guide will help me somehow?”

“That one’s a bit out of date, but it will give you an idea of what you’re up against.” Ellis shook his head and snagged another sandwich from the tray.

“If you were the type of man who wanted a wife in the same way some gentlemen want them—as something pretty to put on your arm when you leave the house, something nice to look at across the dining table, and a way of getting heirs, then I wouldn’t caution you so.

But I know you, Callum, and such a shallow arrangement would eventually make you miserable. ”

It made Callum miserable to even consider such a thing. His father and mother had loved each other deeply. Not that they didn’t ever fight—they squabbled now and then—but they’d faced life side by side for nigh on twenty years.

Callum privately thought that if his mother had still been alive, his father’s heart would have lasted longer than it had; his father missed and mourned her every single day they’d been apart. Though Callum had witnessed the cost of that grief, he’d seen the love that had born it, as well.

He wanted that. It was why he was here.

“Very well.” He nodded. “I’ll read your little book. What other advice do you have to give me?”

“Do not, under any circumstances, be caught alone with a young lady. That is the easiest way for them to entrap you.”

Callum nearly rolled his eyes. “How old do you think I am, precisely?”

Ellis held his hands up. “I’m just trying to warn you.”