The Highlander and the Wallflower Read online

  He wanted to demand who had done this to her. Who had stolen her smile and her confidence? But he had no right to confront her.

  ‘Why do you have to wed?’

  ‘It is my father’s wish,’ was all she would say. ‘I know my duty, however, and I will obey.’ Beneath her dejected tone, he sensed fear. And though he could do nothing to assuage her sorrow, he could offer a distraction.

  ‘Dance with me, Lady Regina,’ he said quietly. He wanted a forbidden moment to hold her in his arms.

  ‘Lord Camford, I must decline. I’ve no wish to dance just now.’ Her voice was heavy, as if she had the weight of the world pressing down on her.

  He hated seeing her in pain, and he wanted to see an emotional response other than the resignation in her eyes. Even anger was better. If that meant provoking her, so be it.

  ‘Or you could stand there, feeling sorry for yourself and being melancholy.’

  Her blue eyes flashed with irritation. ‘I am not feeling sorry for myself.’

  That was better. At least now, she was no longer caught up in her misery. He regarded her and slipped into a Scottish brogue. ‘Aye, you are, lass.’ He deliberately exaggerated the words, though he’d lived in England most of his life. His mother was a distant cousin of the MacKinlochs, and he had spent many summers in the Highlands. To his father’s chagrin, Dalton had embraced his rebellious Scottish ancestry.

  She tightened her mouth in a line and remarked, ‘If you’re trying to cheer me up, it’s not working.’

  ‘There are three gentlemen approaching us,’ he said quietly. ‘Your father is one of them. The other two will ask you to dance, and when you refuse, your father will force you to pick one of them. Is that what you’re wanting?’

  She glared at him. ‘Fine. I’ll dance with you once. But in return, I want you to leave me alone for the rest of the night.’

  Even in anger, she was stunning. Her blue eyes flashed with annoyance, and he hardly cared at all. Were it possible, he would steal her away from this ballroom and indulge in his own improper fantasies.

  Instead, Dalton offered his arm and led her towards the dance floor. ‘God forbid if you were to enjoy yourself.’

  She took her place across from him and curtsied as he bowed. ‘You are not very nice, Camford.’

  ‘No. I’m verra wicked.’

  Regina took his hand as he spun her around in the country dance, a false smile pasted on her face. ‘Being wicked is not something to boast about.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you’ve ever done anything wicked in your life,’ he teased. His words struck a nerve, and her expression grew stricken. He immediately regretted what he’d said and took it back. ‘My apologies. I didn’t mean to offend you.’

  ‘You didn’t. It’s nothing.’ She took his hand, and this time, he studied her expression. There was vulnerability in her eyes, and he wanted to know what had happened to cause the pain. She had her secrets and the inner thoughts she hid from everyone else.

  Although he’d known Regina for years, he had been careful to keep his distance, maintaining the boundary of friendship when he’d travelled to London. But as the years went on, he’d spent more and more time in Scotland, avoiding his responsibilities.

  Dalton touched his hand to hers as they turned in a slow circle. ‘After the dance is over, I will keep my bargain and leave you in peace. But if you should like to be rescued from a gentleman who is bothering you, simply close your fan and place it by your side. I will find a reason to make him leave.’

  Her expression turned amused. ‘And what reason would you have to help me?’

  ‘Because that’s what friends do.’ He kept his tone light, though he wanted to be far more than her friend. Regina was a beautiful woman, and he’d never forgotten her kindness after his brother’s death.

  The dance ended, and he bowed. As he escorted her back to her father, he rested his hand upon the small of her back, savouring the forbidden touch. She was the sort of woman his brother might have married, had Brandon lived. And though a part of him wanted her still, he knew better than to think it would ever happen. It was only a matter of time before her engagement to Lachlan became official. And what kind of man tried to steal his best friend’s fiancée? A traitor, that’s who.

  Let her go, his mind warned.

  But as he walked away, he knew just how difficult that would be.

  Three days later

  ‘Are you ready, Regina?’ Ned Crewe, the Earl of Havershire, held out his gloved hand. For an older man, her father looked rather dashing. His beaver hat covered his dark hair, which was slightly tinged with grey. He wore a black coat, waistcoat, and tan breeches, along with Hessian boots.

  ‘I suppose,’ she replied. ‘Though I would much rather remain inside.’ Her father had suggested a walk, in order to converse privately. She didn’t know why he wanted her to discuss the night when she had been attacked—it was a memory she preferred to forget.

  ‘Unfortunately, there are too many eavesdroppers if we are at home.’

  They continued down the stone stairs, walking in silence through the streets. The earl led her towards a secluded pathway in the direction of the Serpentine, and once they were completely alone, her father’s expression turned grim. ‘I know you would rather not speak of this. But I need you to try to remember what you saw that night. Or whether anyone else saw it. It’s important, Regina.’

  She didn’t understand why it mattered. ‘It happened nearly five years ago. It’s over and done with. No one knows about it, except us.’

  His discerning gaze reached beneath the surface of her courage, and she looked away. ‘You’re still afraid.’

  Of course, she was afraid. She had faced her attacker and had barely survived. The memories were scarred inside her mind, and now, the very thought of being close to a man terrified her.

  ‘I have every reason to be afraid,’ she shot back. ‘But I live with it, just as you do.’ He had been there that night and had helped her cover up the truth. If anyone had learned about the attack, her name would have been ruined, and worse, her father would have been implicated. Thus far, they had kept everything hidden for years. And the last thing she wanted was to dredge up the horrifying memories.

  ‘I wish I could have protected you better.’ His words were an apology, but they couldn’t change the past. ‘But I will do everything in my power to keep you safe now. It’s why I need to know if you saw anything.’

  ‘Did something happen? Did anyone say anything to you?’

  Her father sighed. ‘Just...try to remember. Was there anyone you saw that night when you were returning home? Or did you see anyone afterwards?’ He reached for her gloved hand and tucked it in his arm.

  He hadn’t answered her question, which meant that there was something he wasn’t telling her.

  ‘I saw no one beforehand. And afterwards, I couldn’t—’ Her voice broke off, and a chill caught her skin.

  ‘I understand,’ he said softly. But his face remained uncertain. It looked for a moment as if he wanted to tell her something, but he was holding it back.

  ‘What is it, Papa?’ she asked.

  He sighed and shook his head. ‘It’s only that I want to keep you safe. I pray that no one saw you that night. I need you to remember every detail, so I can protect you.’ His face grew pained, and he reached for his handkerchief. A racking cough claimed him, and he used the handkerchief to cover his face, turning away from her.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she asked, touching his shoulder. His shoulders shook as the coughing fit continued. She waited until it passed, but her worry lingered. Over the past year, her father had lost a great deal of weight, and the coughing seemed to be worse recently. He claimed that it was nothing more than a lingering illness, but his skin pallor was quite pale.

  ‘It’s nothing. Let us continue our walk,’ he said, while he folde
d his handkerchief and put it away. ‘I understand that Locharr will be arriving soon. How do you feel about the marriage?’

  As if I want to avoid it, she thought inwardly.

  ‘He hasn’t asked me to wed him yet,’ she pointed out.

  ‘No, but he will. It was his father Tavin’s dying wish.’ He mustered a smile. ‘And mine, if the truth be known. The pair of you make a handsome couple, and I have no doubt he will keep you safe.’

  Regina wasn’t entirely certain of that, but she didn’t want to argue. Instead, she feigned a false smile to push back the fear. She bit her lip hard and murmured, ‘No doubt.’

  Earlier, they had both agreed that it was best if she left London altogether and married the Laird of Locharr. Lachlan MacKinloch could protect her, if any remnants of her past resurfaced. The Highlands would become her sanctuary, where no one would know of her secret scandal.

  A wild part of her wished she could run away, disappearing from the outside world. Being shipwrecked on an island, as Lord Camford had suggested, sounded very nice indeed. But instead, she had to play the role of the dutiful daughter who was braver than she seemed. Especially now that her father was hiding something.

  He led her back towards their house, and her skin grew cold. The earlier conversation suddenly brought back memories she didn’t want to face. She stood at the entrance to the narrow street beside the house, her stomach churning with nausea. Her limbs had gone numb, and the horrifying visions washed over her. She had been seventeen, filled with dreams and naivety.

  It had been late at night when the baron had escorted her home from the ball. The carriage had stopped near the narrow street and he had taken her there to walk for a moment. She had strolled down this very lane, her arm linked with his.

  ‘I am going to ask your father for your hand in marriage tonight,’ he’d promised. ‘I want to speak with him now.’

  The thought had been so thrilling to her girlish dreams she had laughed and agreed. Though a part of her had known that her father would never approve of a lowly baron, Lord Mallencourt had been daring and so very handsome. He had a way of convincing others to indulge his impulses, and at the time, it had been romantic.

  ‘I don’t know if Papa has returned from Scotland,’ she had said. ‘He might be at home, but it is far too late for him to receive visitors.’

  ‘We simply must speak with him, regardless of the hour. I cannot wait any longer to call you my fiancée.’

  Lord Mallencourt had made her laugh, pressing her close to the wall for a stolen kiss. His mouth had been heated, filled with sinful promises. She had been overwhelmed by the rush of feelings.

  And then he had led her inside.

  Mother had still been at the ball, and most of the servants were in the kitchen, cleaning or banking the fires. Aside from their footman, no one else had known of their late arrival.

  The tremors shook her hands, and Regina tried to find the courage to push back the dark memories.

  ‘Regina?’ her father asked. ‘Are you all right? Did you...remember something?’

  She tried to think, but the only memories were of rough hands tearing at her gown. And then, the pain and horrible humiliation that followed. God above, she didn’t want to recall anything, much less speak of it.

  ‘I am sorry. I can’t.’ She wrenched her hand from her father’s grasp, picking up her skirts. Bile gathered in the back of her throat, and she ran for the stairs, shoving open the front door.

  She bolted up one flight of stairs and then another before she reached her room. Scalding tears ran down her cheeks and she barely reached the basin before she started retching.

  Her impulsiveness had cost her everything, and she could never bear the thought of a man’s touch again. Papa had promised that the Laird of Locharr was a good man, and that he would take care of her. But a husband would expect her to share his bed, and that was something she could never do.

  She laid her head down on her dressing table, wondering how in God’s name she could ever endure a marriage ceremony or what came afterwards.

  * * *

  Dalton sat on the opposite end of the table from his father at luncheon. John St George, the Earl of Brevershire, dined precisely at one o’clock each day, and they ate in silence. It was as if he had created a wall of invisible stone around himself. He hardly spoke, and he only went about his daily tasks out of a sense of duty.

  Dalton had no idea how to break his father out of the spell. But John had been like this for as long as he could remember. Dalton had accepted his status as the Invisible Son for years. His brother, Brandon, had been the good son, the heir his parents adored. Whereas Dalton was the spare they’d ignored.

  After Brandon’s death, it had become far worse. His parents had fallen into a deep despair, and nothing he said or did could break them out of the sorrow. If anything, his presence seemed to darken his father’s mood. They still blamed him for what had happened. And nothing he ever did could atone for it.

  ‘I think I’ll return to Grandfather’s estate during the Season,’ Dalton offered. ‘Someone should look after Cairnross.’ He received only a nod from his father, as the earl’s silver knife scraped the edge of the china plate.

  He could easily have said that he was going to cut off his right hand, and the reaction would have been the same. But still, he would try to make a conversation.

  ‘Do you want to come with me?’ Dalton ventured.

  His father jolted, and a sudden flare of emotion caught his face. ‘I—no. That is, no. I don’t think so. And, well, Parliament is in session.’ He set his knife down and added, ‘But I should be grateful if you would go and see to the estate matters.’

  Just like that, the conversation died again. Dalton thought about bringing his plate closer to his father. John had eaten only a little, and his face appeared ravaged with hunger. His father was naught but a shell of a man any more. He had begun fading after the death of his son seven years ago. It had worsened with the death of his wife, two years ago. He might as well have climbed into the grave beside them.

  ‘Father, I am concerned about you,’ he said to the earl. ‘You never leave the house any more. You ought to go out, attend a few gatherings.’

  ‘I don’t want to go to a ball or a supper party. I’d rather remain here.’

  Where I can bury myself in work and forget about the rest of the world, his expression seemed to say.

  ‘You’re dying here,’ Dalton pointed out. ‘There are too many memories in this house.’ Before Brandon’s death, his mother had decorated the house with bright colours and roses in every room. She had been like a whirlwind, constantly moving about and talking endlessly. They had all adored her.

  But after his brother died, she had withered. Brandon’s empty room had become an untouched shrine. Ailsa had gone inside each day, as if she could feel her son’s presence. Everything had been left as it was before. Even his clothes remained.

  And while he understood their grief, he hadn’t known how to ease their pain. They rarely spoke to him, and they were so caught up in the past, they could not seem to fathom a future besides the one they had planned.

  ‘I am happy as I am,’ the earl said quietly. ‘Let me be, Dalton.’ He folded his napkin and peered down the length of the table. ‘I would rather concentrate on our family’s investments and continue building our wealth. Someone has to see to it that our expenses are paid.’

  Dalton didn’t like the sound of censure in his father’s voice. He had worked just as hard as his father, ensuring that the estates were profitable. He had even invested money in shipping ventures, expanding their interests in India.

  John’s face held weariness. ‘Go to Scotland if that is what you wish. I will be fine here.’

  Dalton’s shoulders lowered when he realised that there was nothing he could do. The sense of loneliness descended, making him feel like an
intruder in his own house. His father was unable to overcome his own grief, and it was the same as it always had been before.

  He departed the dining room and one of his dogs trotted out to see him. Dalton leaned down and petted the foxhound’s head. ‘And what advice would you give me, Laddie, if you were my father?’ He went to sit on the stairs, and the dog rested his head on Dalton’s knees. ‘Perhaps I should take my own advice. Live my life as I please. Find a bride and settle down. Have children of my own.’

  In response, the dog slumped to the ground and rolled to his back, exposing his belly. Dalton smiled and petted the dog until he squirmed with delight. ‘And what about Lady Regina? What should I do about her?’ The dog stood and shook himself before he circled the floor and curled up.

  ‘It hardly matters, I suppose.’ After their last conversation, he knew that Regina believed she had no choice but to wed the laird. Although he didn’t understand her reasons, he hadn’t pressed the matter. After all, she hadn’t seen Lachlan in nearly ten years, and the arrangement had been suggested by her father, after Lachlan’s father Tavin had died a few years ago.

  He thought of her earlier vulnerability and wondered if there was aught he could do to ease her uncertainties. Aye, Locharr was the man her father had chosen for her. But he couldn’t help but think that both of them were making a mistake.

  His conscience warned that it wasn’t his place to interfere or to pry in her affairs. Moreover, it would harm his friendship with Lachlan. He’d hidden his true feelings for years, teasing her relentlessly. If she pushed him away, it was easier to keep the boundaries between them.

  Laddie went to the door and pulled down the leather lead with his teeth, bringing it to him. There was no denying that the dog wanted a walk.

  ‘It is a fine day,’ he agreed with the animal. ‘But I don’t know if Lady Regina would want to come walking with us,’ he said. She tended to stay at home, away from prying eyes.