“I’ll send some inquiries to the solicitor in Edinburgh in the morning. See if anyone’s been taking care of Aldabaran during the last twenty years. I expect to find it in ruins. Natalia will probably be disappointed. She’s accustomed to far more comfortable accommodations.”
“Well, you’ll have all the money in the world to make improvements. Let her help. I’ve heard even the most recalcitrant woman gets a smile on her face when there is expensive remodeling to be done.”
Perhaps Basingstoke was right. Natalia might feel more at home at Aldabaran if she helped to restore it. And they could definitely afford anything she might suggest, thanks to her dowry.
With a sigh, Dylan finally got around to the part of this visit he’d dreaded. “I have one more favor to ask of you, Julian.”
Basingstoke leaned forward, his face troubled; Dylan hardly ever called him by his given name. “Anything, Dylan,” he muttered, returning the more intimate form of address. “All you have to do is ask.”
Dylan looked away, embarrassed. “Can I stay with you until after the wedding? I’ve been evicted.”
Basingstoke laughed, a deep relieved sound of amusement. “Bloody hell, I thought you were going to ask me to help you get rid of Jonathan Taylor’s body.”
Dylan stiffened at the reminder of the wrongs Jonathan had committed against his future bride. Yes, his father could wait. At the moment, he had other fish to fry. “Not yet. But I wouldn’t count it an impossibility.”
Still laughing, Basingstoke nodded. “Well, just let me know if I can be of service. And of course, you can stay. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”
* * *
The May evening was still young, but exhaustion pulled at Natalia like a dead weight. Her emotions were shredded. She felt strange, disconnected from what was happening around her.
As soon as Dylan departed, she headed toward her bedchamber. She wanted nothing more than to slip beneath her covers and go to sleep for a very long time.
“My lady, I didn’t expect you so soon.” Cora, Natalia’s freckled little maid, jumped up from the window seat and tried to hide the book she’d been reading while she waited for Natalia to return.
“It’s all right,” Natalia assured the girl with a weary smile. “If you’ll just help me undress and brush out my hair, you can have the rest of the evening off.”
Cora’s blue eyes lit up, and she hurried to assist Natalia out of her gown. After changing into her nightdress, Natalia sat down at her dressing table, while Cora released the many pins that had held her intricate hairstyle in place. Giving herself over to the soothing nightly ritual, Natalia let her mind drift away.
Scotland. She’d always loved the wild beauty of the Highlands. Apparently, Dylan did, too. He obviously craved the serene peaceful setting enough to risk letting her go in order to live there.
Once again, he confounded her. Who was the real Dylan Blake? Was he a fortune-hunting cad or a tender hero? A warrior or a lover? She feared he was all that and more.
Why had he pursued her for her dowry? She suspected all he’d ever wanted was a place of his own, a home.
A home.That was all she’d ever wanted, too. Somewhere cozy and comfortable instead of grandiose and echoing. A place where children could run and play without worrying about breaking some precious artifact.
Perhaps she would finally find the home of her dreams in Scotland.
As Cora continued brushing her hair, Natalia let her thoughts drift to her future husband. Exactly what did Dylan expect of her? Was this to be a marriage in name only? Or did he want her to be his wife in truth?
The mere idea of making love to him, of leaving herself vulnerable to those strange exciting emotions, terrified her. But she couldn’t bear the thought of spending the rest of her life at arm’s length, watching him flip between mistresses while he treated her with polite indifference. Oh, anything but that.
If marriage to Dylan was to be her lot in life, she had to figure out a way to either trust him more or love him less. Trusting him again might take more courage than she possessed but loving him less seemed impossible.
Chapter Sixteen
During the next few days, Dylan busied himself with wedding details and preparations for the move to Scotland. He arranged a special license and spoke to the minister who had agreed to perform the ceremony. He also sent a message to his grandfather’s solicitor in Edinburgh to inform the man he would arrive to collect his inheritance within the month.
Every evening, he paid a call to the duke’s residence to report his progress. He dined with his future bride and her parents. The four of them pretended nothing was wrong, but the looming wedding wasn’t the happy occasion it should have been.
Natalia treated him with eerie politeness. She smiled and said all the right things, but he could see the panic building in the depths of her emerald eyes. She made certain he had no further opportunity to speak to her in private.
Dismayed by the way things were progressing, he wanted to reach out to her and recapture the essence of that evening in the garden. Those few moments had changed his life—given him a glimpse of heaven on earth—but as time wore on, he feared he’d only dreamed it.
This proper, demure girl, who hardly ever spoke and never met his gaze, couldn’t possibly be the same sweet hoyden who’d begged him to kiss her.
So, on the third evening of his engagement, he sent his regrets. Drinking and gambling at the club with Basingstoke seemed far preferable to another night at Clayton’s mansion. What good did it do to sit beside his future bride and worry and wonder? The arrangements had been made. The die was cast. All he could do was hope things would get better after the wedding when he had her all to himself at Aldabaran.
