Chapter One
1815, Bonnyrigg Castle, Scotland
Callum MacKenzie tookone last look about him. Bonnyrigg had been his home for only fifteen years of his twenty-five upon this earth, but he had known about it for much longer. When his grandfather, the Duke of Bonnyrigg, had died at the turn of the century, his parents had returned here, as they had long ago promised. It had been a condition of their marrying that they would take over the estate. His father had become the duke, and his mother the duchess, and as the eldest son, Callum would one day take his father’s place.
Callum was aware of the gravity of that position. There had been dukes of Bonnyrigg for centuries, and the old duke had squirreled most of his money away, so there was no shortage of funds. The problem was that the Scottish aristocracy looked down upon the MacKenzie family, sneering at their pretensions. His father, Maxwell, had been a lowly gamekeeper who had dared to marry his mother, Luna, the duke’s daughter. Although Maxwell was intelligent and clever, and had been more than capable of assuming his new position, his beginnings had not been forgotten, and besides, the pair of them had led a deeply unconventional life before they moved into the castle.
The unmarried daughters of those who should be their equals turned up their noses at the MacKenzie brothers, and yet Callum’s parents wanted him to marry someone who wouldbring favor as well as fortune to the family. Someone well-bred with important connections, who could lift the MacKenzies from their present obscurity and take their rightful position with the rest of the Scottish nobility. Someone who would bolster their Bonnyrigg inheritance.
So the sad fact was, if Callum wanted to find the sort of wife who could satisfy all of those requirements, then he must travel south over the border. He must also gain some polish and learn to be a duke-in-waiting.
He must go to London.
Maxwell drew him into a hard hug. “Take care, my son,” he said, his deep voice husky with emotion. “I have high hopes for you. We will show the doubters that the MacKenzies are not to be underestimated.”
Next, his mother, Luna, wrapped her arms about him, looking up at her much taller eldest son. “The ladies of London will flock to you. How could they not?”
She was smiling so he smiled back.
His two brothers watched on, Rory yawning after being out all night, and Donal a little anxiously—he and Donal were close. Cat, their sister, held onto a stripy kitten, tears in her eyes. Callum wanted to assure her he would be back home before she knew it, but he didn’t trust his voice.
Behind him, his companion on the journey, Angus Grant, steadied his horse and held the reins of Callum’s black stallion. It was time for him to leave, but now the moment had arrived, Callum tarried.
He took a deep breath.
“You won’t forget—”
“The one hundred things you listed for me not to forget?” his father said, his brown eyes—so like his eldest son’s—gleaming with humor. “Don’t worry, Callum. Everything will be fine here at Bonnyrigg while you are in London. Time will fly, you will see.Now off you go, son, and bring us back a wife who will impress our neighbors.”
The ache in his heart grew more painful, but there was nothing he could do except hope this journey would be over soon and he would return to the place he loved. Hopefully with the sort of well-connected wife his parents wanted. Callum mounted his black stallion—appropriately called Midnight—and turned to the road south. Angus, his friend and manservant and anything else he was required to be, was at his heels.
After half a mile, Callum turned to Angus. “What do you think London is like?”
“Big and noisy,” Angus said cheerfully.
Callum knew that Angus, who must be at least forty years old, had been sent south with him because his father trusted the man to keep a close watch on his son. Did he think Callum was not up to the task assigned him? Or was he worried Callum would make a fool of himself and his family in his attempts to attract a mate? Like some sort of awkward Scottish bird far out of his territory.
He wasn’t at all sure he wanted to mingle with the English upper classes. They were known liars and prevaricators, and he would be expected to bow and grovel, and Callum was not one to do either if he did not feel mutual respect. He was known far and wide as a man who said what he thought without fear or favor, so he would have to constantly watch his tongue.
“You will get used to London ways,” Angus spoke at his side. “Some delight in the place so much they do not want to leave. Enjoy yourself, Callum! It is but a short time out of your life, and who knows, you might even relish prancing about with the ladies.”
“You have me confused with Rory,” Callum muttered.
Just as Callum was said to be the serious son, Rory cared only for the pursuit of pleasure and entertainment and was rarely home before dawn.
“Besides,” he added, “I doubt my aunt will put up with any of that nonsense.”
His parents had arranged for him to stay with his mother’s sister, Jennie, who was married to the Earl of Strathmore. They had a town house in London and were far more socially engaged than the MacKenzies. At least Jennie would be a friendly face among the sea of strangers, and English strangers at that. He knew Scotland was supposed to be part of the union with England, but he had never been comfortable with it. If he had been born a hundred years earlier, he would have joined the rebels fighting against the German king who had been set upon the throne instead of the Scottish Stuart.
“As well as finding a wife, your father wants you to gain some polish.” Angus was still trying to make his task palatable. “When you’re the duke, you will need to rub shoulders with the quality whether you want to or not.”
As much as he liked Angus, who was no fool—and it would be good to have someone from home at his side—Callum was tired of his optimism.
“I am not one for crowds,” he said.
“Mabbe not, but you will have to learn to pretend you are comfortable in situations where you are far from it.”
Callum already knew this; he just didn’t want to think about it. He turned and gave Angus a look, and the older man snorted a laugh.
