The lady turned to watch Beaufort’s coach as it fell in behind Aaran’s. “It is foolish of me to say so, but I always feel safer when Beaufort is near.” Realizing what she had confessed, she turned quickly, a blush marking her cheeks. “I did not mean I do not feel safe with you, my lord.”
“I understand. Your sentiments are as they should be. Navan will be your husband—your partner in life.”
As the daylight began to fade, two coaches rolled into the prescribed inn yard. Aaran had sent word ahead to secure one large room for Navan and him to share, with an adjoining room for Lady Annalise. He knew Beaufort would not approve, but Aaran was intent on keeping Lady Annalisepureuntil herwedding night. Though it was truly none of his concern, Aaran meant for there to be no question of Beaufort and Lady Annalise anticipating their vows. Aaran knew firsthand that particular stigma.
It was also the reason he had approached Duncan regarding creating a story for what would be Benjamin Thompson and Miss Whitchurch’s adopted son. Duncan had used all his Home Office power to permit Benjamin a future without the dark cloud of an illegitimate child belonging to his betrothed.
Aaran had been rewarded for his efforts, for he was to stand up with Benjamin at the wedding, and, ironically, Miss Whitchurch had asked Lady Annalise to stand with her. Aaran had thought Miss Whitchurch was thankful for Lady Emma Orson’s assistance, but Thompson’s soon-to-be bride was a bit intimidated by Lady Emma’s worldliness. In truth, Aaran expected Miss Whitchurch and Lady Annalise to become steady friends. They were, as many would say, cut from the same cloth.
I will be the last of Duncan’s sons to marry, he thought as he watched Lady Annalise squirm with anticipation of Beaufort opening Aaran’s carriage door.Perhaps I might marry when I reach Scotland and make Benjamin the last of us to wed. Such would be appropriate, for Thompson had been Duncan’s last son, but with that logic I should have been married after Orson.
Aaran stifled another sigh. There was no more time for his musings, as Beaufort opened the door and Lady Annalise scrambled to reach him. Beaufort lifted her to the ground, permitting his betrothed to slide down his body. Not wishing to look upon their happiness, Aaran reached for his cane before leaning forward to drop the steps.
What I would not give, he thought,to one day be able to lift my future wife in the air as has Navan. Swallowing his envy, Aaran made his way down the coach’s steps. “Let us go inside,” he instructed. “I am starving.”
“As am I,” Lady Annalise assured as she slipped her hand around Aaran’s elbow and walked by his side into the inn, while Beaufort gave orders to the inn’s help regarding which trunks would be required for the night. “Day one,” Lady Annalise announced with a sigh of satisfaction.
Aaran was happy for Beaufort and the lady, but he wondered if he would be the only one of Lord Duncan’s sons who would be required tosettlefor a woman willing to forgive his well-known illegitimacy so she might be kept in luxury for the remainder of her days. The idea made him sad, for he, like his brothers, had always wanted the kind of marriage they had viewed between Duncan and Lady Elsbeth. The Duncans’ love was on full display in all they did.
Much later, as Aaran rolled to his side and listened to Beaufort’s sigh of satisfaction as his brother also crawled under the bedding, it was all Aaran could do not to shed tears or to curse Heaven; yet, such was not his role in Duncan’s family. Aaran was the one who found a solution to each problem they encountered.Except my own, his mind announced.Except my own.
8 September 1811
Such was themake of their days until they had finally crossed Scotland’s border. Aaran pointed out the slight changes in the topography to Lady Annalise. “There are more mountains and, naturally, seashores, and the most beautiful lakes God ever designed,” he said as the carriage turned towards his southern estate near Dumfries.
Last evening, Beaufort had argued that he and Lady Annalise could simply marry in Gretna Green, but the lady had insistedotherwise. “Though I appreciate your urgent desire to reach your grandmother’s estate, I would prefer our marriage to be blessed by a proper cleric. I do not want my brother or Lady Marksman to think we have something to hide, my lord. I have given up a proper London Season and placed my absolute trust in you, Navan. I want what my mother never had, a marriage blessed by the Church.”
Beaufort was, naturally, unable to deny his bride-to-be’s wish, and so they turned north and west of Gretna towards Aaran’s southernmost estate. By midday, they were within ten miles of their destination when Mr. Jamison pulled up on the reins, and Aaran instinctively reached for the gun he kept in a side pocket of the bench seat. He smiled when Lady Annalise also claimed a pistol.
“What do you see, Jamison?” Aaran asked through the trap.
“Appears to be a broken-down coach, my lord,” Jamison responded. “Can only see the driver, but he seems to be speaking to another.”
Aaran reached for the door latch and let it swing wide, and then he dropped the steps. He instructed the lady, “Beaufort has yet to catch up with us. Stay in the coach until either Beaufort or I seek you out.” He grinned at her. “If mischief occurs, Jamison has instructions to deliver you to my estate. However, if you choose to defend yourself, remember, though I am not as handsome as Beaufort, I have assisted in your escape from Marksman.”
“Just be careful, my lord,” she cautioned. “I have not so many that I callfriend, as to lose one now. Moreover, a bride should not be dressed in mourning for her wedding day.”
“I will do my best, my dear.” Aaran climbed down gingerly, all his senses on alert. “If something ill happens, Mr. Jamison, you are to deliver the lady to my estate. Such is your only order.”
His coachman frowned in disapproval, but Jamison said, “Aye, my lord.”
Aaran approached the disabled carriage as far as the first of his horses. He placed a steadying hand on the lead’s nose, before he called out. “Those in the coach, do you require assistance?” He did not move any closer in case someone had set a trap or meant mischief.
A coachman, wearing the colors of a man Aaran despised, stepped from behind where the coach sloped sharply to the right. “Regards, sir,” the coachman called back. “It appears we’ve broken an axle.”
Aaran relaxed a fraction, but he knew the man circling the coach on the other side would not welcome Aaran’s assistance.
“Lord Graham,” Lord Iain Cunningham said as he approached Aaran. “I imagined you had already returned to Midlothian.”
“I had urgent affairs on my Dumfries estate to settle before moving farther inland,” Aaran responded, though he still kept his distance. He no longer feared an attack by a highwayman, but such did not mean he wished to extend a hand to Lord Cunningham, who had never once treated Aaran with any form of respect. More often than not, Cunningham spoke against many of Aaran’s proposals in the House of Lords, but Cunningham, who should be representing Scotland, often permitted their fellow Scots to suffer rather than combine forces with Aaran.
The sound of an approaching coach could be heard, and Aaran turned just as Beaufort’s carriage came to a halt behind his. He waited for Beaufort to join them before he offered an explanation to Cunningham. Beaufort stopped to speak briefly to Lady Annalise before coming to stand at Aaran’s side.
Attempting to sound casual, Aaran said, “You recognize Lord Cunningham, do you not, Beaufort?”
Beaufort nodded to Cunningham. “Good day, my lord. What have we here?”
Cunningham responded civilly to Beaufort. “My coachman says we have a broken axle.”
