When he came to the end of the elegantly penned correspondence, he tore the curly wig off his head and chucked it on the floor, as if it were suddenly infested with lice. “Good Lord.Thomas! Thomas!”
Histall, gangly valet came running into the room. “Yes, Your Grace?”
The duke rose from his chair. “It’s Lady Amelia. She has been found! Pack everything immediately. We must travel to Moncrieffe Castle and leave within the hour.”
“Pray God she is safe and unharmed.”
The duke reached for his glass and tossed back the rest of the brandy in a single gulp. “My word, the whole world has turned upside down on its ear.”
“How so, Your Grace?”
The duke stared at his devoted valet in utter disbelief and shook the letter in the air. “The Earl of Moncrieffe has asked for Lady Amelia’s hand in marriage.”
Thomas froze. “But she is already engaged to Colonel Bennett.”
“I am quite aware of that, Thomas. I am not an imbecile.
That is why I shouted your name twice just now. We must reach the castle as quickly as possible.”
“I understand, Your Grace.” Thomas swept His Lordship’s wig off the floor, brushed it free of dust, and hastened from the room.
The duke rubbed a hand over his natural white hair—
which stood on end in frizzy disarray—andstrolledto the window. He looked out at the Scottish countryside and watched a line of soldiers training in the field.
“I believe that when I meet that man at last,” he quietly said, “Iwillbe tempted to brain him with a bottle of his own whisky. I don’t care how fine it is. That man deserves a good thump on the head for taking so bloody long to declare himself.”
* * *
Outside in the courtyard, an armed dispatch rider slipped Amelia’s letter into a saddlebag and mounted his horse, with instructions to locate Colonel Bennett, who was heading north with the Moncrieffe militia toward Drumnadrochit.
The ridergallopedout of the fortress gates with strict and rigorous haste, silently cursing the fact that he would have to answer to the despicable colonel while he awaited further instructions.
* * *
“Did you know that he defended you steadfastly to Angus,”
Josephine said to Amelia the next day, “and chose you over him?” They were crossing the drawbridge with baskets hooked over their wrists, on a mission to pick wildflowers in the orchard, even though the weather was quickly turning gray.
“No, I did not know that,” Amelia replied with a frown.
“When?”
“The day you arrived. Angus was not pleased to hear of your engagement. He felt Duncan was betraying Muira’s memory, and Scotland, too, by laying down his weapons to make you happy. Angus takes great pleasure in war. He always has.”
They stepped off the bridge and headed into the orchard.
Their skirts swished through thetallgrasses.
“How long have you known Angus?” Amelia asked, pushing aside her discomfort over the mention of Muira’s name. Neither Amelia nor Duncan had talked about his former fiancée since the day they spoke of her in the mountains.
Josephine looked up at the sky. “I met Angus when he came here with his father to invite the MacLeans to join in the rebel ion, over a year ago. Duncan’s father, as I’m sure you must’ve heard, was a fearsome warlord. He was keen to join the cause, though Duncan opposed it.”
Amelia was astonished to hear this. She’d thought Duncan was a passionate Jacobite, because that was part of the Butcher’s notoriety.
“I knew that Duncan’s father was a warrior,” she said, “and that he died in the rebel ion.”
“Aye, and afterward, Duncan returned home to take his place as laird and quickly established himself political y as a Highland noblewillingto support King George and give up the rebel ion. You would know that, of course, because of your father’s visit last spring.”
