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A Secret Scottish Christmas

Page 87

by Regan Walker

“If it matters,” added Robbie, “we failed in our mission. George Kinloch has safely sailed to France, just ahead of the storm.”

Emily’s eyes darted to Robbie and Nash. “On behalf of my husband and our other guests, we accept your apology. Hugh has explained that you are not alone in being drafted by the Crown for special assignments, and that Lord Ormond and your brothers have also served in such a capacity.”

“Even I spied for the Crown in France,” put in Mary.

“Not with my blessing,” scolded Hugh.

“We were not wed then, my love,” replied the fair-haired marchioness with a mischievous grin.

Robbie knew his brothers’ wives were hoydens and apparently Lady Ormond followed in their footsteps.

William took that moment to raise his wine glass. “We are glad Mr. Kinloch escaped our shores. There are enough so-called enemies of the Crown rotting in prison. There need not be another from Scotland joining them. So, with that in mind, I propose a toast to a new day and the celebration of the New Year that awaits us in Stonehaven, that is if the weather allows.”

Everyone, save Ailie, raised their glass. “To a new day!”

At the end of William’s toast, Muriel said, “Emily, per chance is the dark green matter floating in the soup kale?”

To Robbie’s eternal gratitude, everyone laughed, bringing much-needed merriment to the otherwise somber session of confession and pardon. Alas, Nash would have much work ahead of him if he were to win forgiveness from the Mistress of the Setters.

Emily indulged her friend. “No, dear Muriel, ’tis spinach.”

“Ah,” breathed the countess, “I am much relieved.” With that, Muriel began to consume her soup.

Robbie breathed a sigh of relief. At least one storm had passed.

The storm beating against her window meant that Ailie would be denied her late night stroll to gaze at the stars. Instead, she retired to her chamber to sit by the fire and stare into the flames, contemplating her future. Her tartan shawl was draped over her nightclothes and Goodness and Mercy lay curled up at her feet, bringing her comfort after a disturbing day.

Before William had wed Emily and Ailie had come to love her sister-in-law, she would never have considered an Englishman as a prospective husband. But now, in accepting Muriel’s invitation to come to London, she had placed the possibility squarely in her path.

Despite her anger at Nash for failing to disclose his spying, she had not forgotten all she loved about him, his gentle touch, his humor, his passionate kisses, his approval of her ship design work that would forever be a part of her life, and his easy acceptance of life in Arbroath. When she thought of a future husband, his face was the only one that appeared in her mind. But could that ever be after what he had done? The others, even William and Emily, had been quick to forgive. Why was it so hard for Ailie?

She reached down to scratch Goodness behind his ears. Content, he did not even stir. Getting to her feet, she went to her writing desk and took up her quill. Dipping it in the ink, she began to write.

27 December

How do I begin to speak of a day in which many secrets were revealed? Nash Powell is a government spy! Along with his brother, Robbie, he had planned to arrest George Kinloch, the laird from Dundee who spoke for all Scots in condemning the bloodbath at Manchester. Worse, Nash told me nothing of it. Yesterday, I saw the horror of it unfolding on the streets of Arbroath. I heard the pistols firing; I saw Robbie lying in a pool of blood; and I feared for his life.

My dreams now make perfect sense. They warned me of men in taverns, where, like as not, Nash and Robbie acted the spies, and told me one of the twins would be shot. I have to confess I was glad Nash was not the one wounded, but I am furious with him for sharing his kisses while hiding his deception. And now I learn that his older brothers and Lord Ormond have all been spies for the Crown. So many secrets…

I have told Muriel I will go to London with her. Perhaps I do need a diversion just now. Will I see Nash there? My heart breaks at the thought of losing him from my life, but forgiveness has not come easily. Yet the wise Countess of Claremont urges me to consider doing just that.