However, she did finally locate Malcolm beside the church door—his wife, Aileen, on his arm—smiling at something Dr. Ruxton had just said.
Leah brought her attention back to the two women, her heart thrumming in her chest, her palms suddenly damp in her Sunday gloves.
She prayed nothing in her expression or color reflected the agitation of her thoughts. Mrs. Clark and Mrs. Buchan were like sharks to blood when they scented gossip in the water.
“Why has this Captain Carnegie taken up residence here?” Leah was proud of the steady tone of her voice.
“The captain is a personal friend of Lord Hadley,” Mrs. Buchan rushed to say, clearly determined to reveal all she knew. “I’ve heard he wanted tae live closer to his lordship.”
Captain Fox Carnegie claimed a close friendship with Andrew Langston, Earl of Hadley? Leah felt nearly dizzy with this array of new information.
Two worlds which she had always seen as occupying completely unrelated spheres—local gentry and her own matrimonial aspirations—were abruptly colliding.
“Are ye sure of that, Mariana?” Mrs. Clark disagreed, nose wrinkling. “It will be difficult for Lord Hadley or Captain Carnegie to visit one another with any regularity. Laverloch isnae that close, what with the abysmal state of the road up Glen Laver. I hear the captain purchased Laverloch because he wished for solitude.”
Mrs. Buchan snorted. “Well, if nothing else, this illustrates the problem.”
“Problem?” Leah had to ask it.
“Aye. No news gets out of Laverloch.” Mrs. Buchan sniffed. “The captain has been staffing the castle with servants from Aberdeen. Anytime one quits, he just asks his solicitor tae send another.”
“I heard the same,” Mrs. Clark replied, the feather in her bonnet bobbing with the force of her nodding head. “Which is why he has been living at Laverloch for nigh upon a month, and we’re only now hearing tell of it.”
“Well, that’s tae be expected. The servants have no family here and live ten miles up a Highland glen. We dinnae hear a peep of gossip that way,” Mrs. Buchan said bitterly, as if Captain Carnegie’s eccentric hiring practices and desires for privacy were a personal affront.
“We’ll have tae wait until he attends church tae ask all our questions, it seems. Laverloch Castle is too far away for a morning social call.”
Both women paused, exchanging a glance, as if calculating doing just that.
Leah bit her own tongue and swallowed back the wee bits of information she herself knew about Captain Fox Carnegie.
No onein Fettermill was aware of their brief acquaintance. She had never told a soul about the disastrous events of that house party.
The entire situation had been so appallingly mortifying in hindsight.
Her naive optimism in developing a tendre for a handsome and well-connected gentleman like Mr. Carnegie. The mortification of having spun candy-floss imaginations of their supposed connection and what it meant for her future. The stupidity of refusing a perfectly adequate proposal in the wake of those ridiculous dreams.
But even that shame hadn’t stopped Leah from diligently following the fortunes of the 64th Foot in theLondon Gazette. She knew Mr. Carnegie’s regiment had left England for Gibraltar in late 1819. He was advanced to the rank of Lieutenant in 1823, and then to Captain in 1830 when the company removed to the West Indies.
And then . . . nothing.
The 64th Regiment of Foot embarked for Ireland in 1834, but Captain Carnegie was not mentioned in the muster list. Word filtered down from Aunt Leith that Captain Carnegie and Lord Dennis Battleton had sold their commissions in the army two years previously and had taken up employ as captains in the Presidency Army of the East India Company.
Aunt Leith speculated that Captain Carnegie had sold out in order to marry. Reportedly, he had become betrothed to one Miss Honoria Hampstead—a lady Leah assumed to be blond, buxom, and flirtatious—and Miss Hampstead had no desire to ‘follow the drum’ of her betrothed’s deployments.
Leah hated how, even years on, her heart had plummeted at the news of Fox Carnegie’s marriage. Would she ever cease to be anumptywhere that man was concerned?
And now, he was—bizarrely, inexplicably—here.
In Fettermill.
With the funds to purchase a castle.
Was Miss Hampstead—ehr . . . likely Mrs. Fox Carnegie now—an heiress, in addition to being buxom, blond, and flirtatious? Had she grown tired of India? But if so, why purchase an isolated castle miles and miles up a Highland glen, surrounded by nothing but gorse and heather and endless wind?
It made no sense. But perhaps . . .
“Is Captain Carnegie married?” Leah asked, her curiosity slipping out.
