“I know he, too, made a visit to Scotland Yard.” Another evasion.
“Then the most obvious solution would be to leave this place.”
Exasperation flooded her. “As if the answer is so simple. Mr. MacKintosh, I’ve told you all of this because you offered your help. I was hoping, as an unbiased observer, you might have an alternative suggestion for me.”
“Aye, and I have. If ye dinnae feel safe here, find somewhere ye do,” he told her. “Ye can start anew, make the life ye want for yerself. If ye’re in need of help or funds, I’ll assist ye in any way possible.”
“I pick myself up and drop myself somewhere new?”Unexpected. Unknown. Unfamiliar.Piper shook her head. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It can be.”
His confidence astonished her. “I somehow doubt you’ve ever struggled, Mr. MacKintosh.”Suffered.
“One might say having eight older brothers holds its own level of torment.”
Her patience snapped. “I’m serious.”
“And I am no’?” He matched her impatient tone with one of his own. “There’s something lost in being one of many. I was neither oldest nor youngest. No’ the smartest nor the funniest. No’ the most ambitious or extraordinary. I was lost among the maddened crowd wi’ nothing to recommend me beyond being Fiona’s favorite. At least I had that, I suppose. However, dinnae judge me when ye have nae desire to be judged in turn, Mrs. Milbourne.”
There was cynicism enough in his tone to suggest he suspected the name to be a false one. He’d also proven himself clever enough to deduce that she was in hiding. If he’d determined so much in little more than a day’s acquaintance, what more would he reason out in the days to come?
Instinct told her to trust him. Could she really? She wanted to. Desperately.
“Ye ken, one could say there are two types of women, as well. Those polished within an inch of their life on the outside but tainted inside. ‘Tis nae beauty I refer to, it’s life. Verve. Then there is the other sort. Those who are smartly outfitted in mind and spirit. Who are kind, nurturing, and courageous. I’ve come to adore women of that nature, few as they are.”
Piper waited on pins and needles for him to continue, fearing he would cast her into the former group. If his opinion of her were that low, she’d be gravely disappointed.
And she was.
“I believed ye a valiant spirit temporarily discouraged though possessed with pluck enough to overcome whatever it was that had befallen ye. Now, I’m left at odds.” He paused with a shake of his head, as if he couldn’t quite rectify that belief versus this new evidence. “What I haven’t liked about my life, I’ve sought to change. It isnae perfect yet, thus I continue to adjust. I’d thought ye eager to take yer future and mold it to suit ye, nae one else, but lacking direction or opportunity. Ye’ve had two years to make a change for the better, instead ye hide here in fear of the unknown.”
The accusation triggered something in Piper, a powerless fury she hadn’t felt in quite some time. It rose like bile in her throat, nearly choking her. Taking her breath. Yanking on the reins, she spun Dandy around before shooting a hot glare over her shoulder.
“I’d thought you different. Different from those who considerfear of the unknownan intolerable reason to keep myself hidden away. That is not at all the case.” Dandy pranced to the side, agitated as she. While she might summon the courage to face her brother, Piper wasn’t as confident that she possessed the mettle to confront what would come after. “Make no mistake, Mr. MacKintosh. I knowexactlywhat it is that I fear.”
Chapter 8
Contrary to the life I lead—aka ‘hiding’ as Mr. MacKintosh so eloquently phrased it—I never intended to become a slave to my circumstances. I still dream of love, kindness, and the comfort of a warm embrace. Especially one that smells of citrus and spice.
~ from the diary of Piper Brudenall, September 1895
More than a week later
So much for the gentle and patient hand he’d resolved to employ in earning Piper’s trust. Instead, he’d let his Scot’s temper get the best of him, and she’d fled on the wings of a solid rage of her own.
She’d been right to berate him. His rebuke had been overly harsh and unfair. In truth, he hadn’t meant to let loose like that. As he’d hit an apparent sore spot of hers, she had struck one in him.
Thus far, his twenty-five years hadn’t been marked by a great deal of accomplishment. Distinctive achievement. In his youth, he’d often felt extraneous. Lost in anonymity near the bottom of the pack after his parents died. There was not much he could do that one or more of his brothers hadn’t managed before. Nothing for him to have that hadn’t been someone else’s.
Even his fortune had been someone else’s. His father had left enough to each of his ten sons and daughter for them all to rest on their laurels for the remainder of their days. Aye, he was grateful for it. It gave him resources.
But no purpose. Contrary to Fiona’s opinions, one couldn’t squander each day on a golf course.
Life had granted him none of the inborn responsibilities of his eldest brother. He had no interest in soldiering like Vin, Richard, and Dorian. The investments and business interests that worked for Sean, Colin, and Jamie, also, now that he’d gone to America, bored Connor. Ian and Tam seemed to have no long-term goals beyond playing pranks, fighting, and leaving mayhem in their collective wake.
Connor had followed in their footsteps for a while, carousing and gambling as many younger sons of noblemen did. The lack of challenge irked him. It took no tangible skill to drink men under the table when he’d spent a lifetime keeping up with his brothers.
It wasn’t until he’d recently come across an estate for sale on the road between Glen Cairn Manor and St. Andrews that his ennui with life in general took a turn. His family thought him mad—a bachelor purchasing fallow lands and a near ruin of a house—however, Connor finally had a challenge to surmount and a subject matter that interested him.
