“Aye. So that is how it is. You marry the girl, then you ship her back to your house while you continue to play in the hills.” She shook her head while clucking her tongue.
Graeme continued to eat. Perhaps he should have told his mother about the handfasting, but he hadn’t realized that the gossip mill was as active here as it was in London. He’d never imagined she’d actually find out.
“Disappointed, that’s what I am,” Moira continued. “What’s the matter, Graeme? You don’t think we’re good enough for your fancy London wife? Are you embarrassed by your simple Scottish family?”
“First of all, I am not now nor have I ever been embarrassed by any of you,” he said. “Secondly, we aren’t truly married, not really. There was no priest. It was only the handfasting ceremony, nothing more. And there’s not a court in all of England that would deem that a legal marriage.”
“Ah,” Moira said, holding her hand up in the air. “But you’re not in England now, are you?” she asked, her tone dangerously close to yelling.
“Are you trying to tell me that people still believe in that old ceremony?” he asked.
“Not only do they believe in it, it’s a legally binding marriage. In the eyes of the civil authorities, the church, and everyone in that pub, you and that girl are husband and wife.”
Graeme opened his mouth to argue, then shut it. He felt his frown increase. “That is ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous or not, it’s a fact.” Moira paused and pressed her lips together, clearly hiding a smile.
“I’m glad you find this so amusing,” he said.
“Didn’t think it all through, did ya, boy? What happened anyway?”
Graeme relayed the story of the men who were bothering Vanessa and then the goading he’d endured. “At the time, it seemed the only option.” He didn’t explain how the men’s taunting had gotten to him, how their childish teasing had pushed him into action. Admitting to that wouldn’t solve anything.
“So you married her.” Moira was quiet for a few moments before she nodded knowingly. “You made the right choice, I suppose. But now you have to live with the consequences. You’d best be off.”
“Off where?”
“To claim your bride. Go find her at the train station and bring her back. Whether you wanted to or not, you are married to the girl. For now. The two of you can decide on what to do next. Get an annulment if you like.” Then Moira slanted him a look full of mischief, and perhaps a tad more satisfaction than he’d like. “Or perhaps you’ll decide to keep her.”
Graeme swallowed hard, unable to fully comprehend what his mother was suggesting. He didn’t want a wife, let alone one that would no doubt cause him more trouble than she was worth. “Keep her?” He came to his feet. “Why in blazes would I want to do that?”
“Well, you’ll need a wife eventually. An heir for your family name. And I’d like grandchildren. Don’t you want to be married, boy?” Her eyebrows rose, and then her lips quirked in a half smile.
Clearly his overreaction had not gone unnoticed. He took a steadying breath. “Not particularly.” He grabbed a chunk of bread for his walk. “Marriage certainly didn’t work out so well for you.”
“That was my own stubbornness.” She turned away from him and busied herself with stacking some dishes.
More like his own damned father had chased her away. Had never accepted her Scottish heritage and hadn’t made it easy for her to fit into Society. Vanessa, though, would fit perfectly in Graeme’s world, the English side at least. She was a well-bred lady, attractive, tall—not that her height had much to do with anything, but she was an appropriate height for him to reach down and kiss if he so chose.
But Graeme had never wanted to marry. His parents’ terrible marriage was enough proof to him that people shouldn’t join in a union they didn’t intend to keep, especially if they brought children into it. Graeme had no desire to be a husband, for all of those reasons and plenty more. They would get an annulment.
But he supposed his mother was right. If Vanessa was legally his wife, then he best go and find her until the annulment was legal.
Graeme had started searching for his errant bride at the train station, but had found no sign of Vanessa. The attendant had reluctantly admitted that she’d doubled Graeme’s original fee, and the man had looked the other way when she’d left the train station. He hadn’t seen her since.
Damned stubborn girl not to heed his warnings. He’d told her this place wasn’t safe for her alone, yet she’d stumbled off, dragging that trunk of hers behind her. Admittedly, though, he was glad that he didn’t have to board a train himself to chase the girl down to London.
Graeme made his way to the inn where he’d found her one night before, but he found no sign of her there, either. Of all the damned ways he could be spending his time. He had work to do, not only on his own research, but now this business for Solomon’s.
He searched the only store in the village, and she was nowhere to be found. But as he was stepping out the door, a man remembered her. He’d seen her sitting on her trunk in the middle of the hill for a long while until a gentleman had come over to her, and they’d disappeared in his carriage.
In Graeme’s experience, only one man used an enclosed carriage in this village, but to be certain he asked, “What did the man look like?”
The grizzled man shrugged. “That English lad. The one who has that house up on the hill.”
That certainly sounded like Niall. “What color hair?”
“Fair. He was fair. They left, went that way.” He pointed to the right.
