Jealousy froze the blood in her veins as she watched her father greet him warmly. Anger melted that ice and turned her stomach to a block of burning acid. Finally, as she met the deep blue gaze of Sir Iain Buchanan, grief stabbed deep into her heart once more as the truth of the matter struck her once more—her father never had cared a whit about her.
She was now, as she’d always been, a means to his ends.
In spite of the pain she felt, Clare found it impossible to look away from Sir Iain and relief filled her when he did so first. His attention was engaged in being introduced by Nairn and making a first impression on a man, an earl, who could help him in many matters when she held no sway over anything at all.
Glancing around the room, she wondered if she could slip out unnoticed as the men continued to speak as they returned to their chairs. The efficient footmen quickly adjusted the settings and seating to place her father in between Sir Iain and Lady Marlowe, who looked thrilled at the addition to their group and her proximity to the earl.
Once settled, bowls of fruit, a small cake, a plate of cheeses and a pudding were brought out. A selection of beverages was offered—another of Nairn’s eccentricities of not separating from the women to enjoy their port or other drinks.
“Clare, you look well,” her father said.
Surprised by the first words spoken to her in years by her father, Clare was overwhelmed by unexpected feelings. Waves of longing. Pulses of betrayal. Stabbings of heartbreak and loss. And anger. Anger was always there and never revealed.
Her throat tightened and words would not come out. In that moment, she could not, for the life of her, choose a way to address him. My lord? Father? Sir? Each of those would have been appropriate at one time or another in her life, but now?
Finally, she forced a reply free.
“I am well.”
So, the first words spoken to her father in years were a lie and yet, she could think of nothing else to say.
Iain watched asa myriad of emotions flickered through her emerald eyes in those few moments and it took his breath away. He’d underestimated her several times and he wondered how her father’s arrival would affect her. Nairn had been eager to see the invitation extended to his wife’s father as a gesture of peace in their family. When Iain had suggested the meeting to further discussions on matters of mutual interest, in other words the pursuit of more wealth, Nairn had grabbed at it. Since Iain’s major goal in life matched that of most other men—more wealth, more power, simply more—drawing others into his plans to help him succeed made sense.
Should he feel badly about using the lady’s family against her to secure the properties he wanted? Oh, aye, he should. Any decent human being would. But scruples and regrets had been burned out of his soul long ago. His only priority, his only aim, was to satisfy his needs and appetite for... more.
The lady would survive without two blocks, two large warehouses, near the Leith waterfront. Indeed, with the amount he would pay her, she could not only survive but flourish and pay for more of her special projects. And, if this gathering resulted in her regaining her ties to her father, then she benefitted even more.
When he considered his new position with its access to the higher levels of society and, sadly, the scrutiny that came with it, he would rather ease his way into the ownership of what he wanted than to call too much attention to his bid to control it. As a simple businessman and merchant from Glasgow with ties to certain elements that operated outside the view of most, he could apply the force needed. But now, having received the king’s favor and being accepted in genteel company with the sought-after alliances, he must step carefully.
Hence, keeping his ownership of The Cock’s Spur a secret from the upper echelons of polite society of Edinburgh. As well as his other less polished enterprises.
Hence, taking this approach to gain the lady’s properties.
Iain sat silently, partaking in some of the dessert and in some of the marquess’s fine port, and all the while watching and evaluating the interesting family dynamics play out around him.
The marquess had a good head for business and Iain knew he could make money with him. Though what effect Iain’s dismantling of Lady Clare’s holdings would play on the upright noble, Iain could only guess.
The earl, not known for his forgiving nature, would most likely cry with glee if he could prosper while putting his eldest in her proper place. Penniless and at his mercy would be Heath’s preference. So, with enough bribing to keep him pliant, Charles Napier would be no impediment to Iain’s success.
The other guest, Lord Marlowe, was a baron and invited more as a distraction at his suggestion to Lord Nairn. He had interesting prospects and properties but not even close in wealth or connections as the other two men.
The talk did not focus on business. Like most conversations at polite meals, the topics included the weather, their estates, their horses, the news from the continent about various subjects and a smattering of casually mentioning any and all-powerful people they knew. The latter to convince him of their standing. Nobles tended to underestimate those not raised as they were and to assume they would be impressed by such antics. But, this puffing of chests and demonstrating their connections kept things sociable at the table.
Finally, the usual topics exhausted, the earl attempted to turn the talk to his concerns, but it would not benefit Iain to speak of such before he sensed it would be the most advantageous time. As her father raised his voice, Lady Clare stood.
“My lord, my lady, if you would have my carriage brought around? I must take my leave.”
A deep furrow between her brows showed her consternation. She worried her lower lip with her teeth as she waited for Nairn’s response. That lip grew red and puffy from the action and his body reacted swiftly to the sight.
“Of course, Clare,” he said, as he nodded to his butler before holding his hand out to his wife. “Are you certain you will not stay? We will move to the Drawing Room shortly which is more comfortable than here.”
Though her father took his seat once more, the baron and his wife remained standing. Out of respect for those of higher standing. Of which her father had none. Even with his lower title, he did not give the marquess the courtesy of standing when Nairn did.
“Nay, my lord, I thank you for your kind invitation, but I must go,” she said. “My lords, my ladies—” When he thought she would ignore him, she faced him. “And Sir Iain. It was lovely to see you all.”
“Lady Clare,” he said as he tilted his head down. “As unexpected as it was, I was pleased to see you again.”
The lady turned to leave, and Iain was struck by the need to... do something. To call out to her and make her come back. To rush to her and hold her against the pain she felt. To tear her apart for the threat, the real danger, she presented to him and his plans.
