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“Were you and the lass married?” Royal finally managed to ask.
Logan scowled. “Of course. Unfortunately, we only had a few years together before she died.”
“I’m truly sorry for that,” Royal said quietly. “But why the hell wouldn’t you tell any of us? You could have written to me, or to Angus.”
“It was . . . complicated.”
“How complicated can it be to tell your family you have a wife?” Royal asked with exasperation.
When Logan arched an ironic eyebrow, he was forced to concede the point. Apparently, the Kendricks only did complicated when it came to women and marriage—or not marrying them.
“Well, you can tell me about her now,” Royal said. “Who was she?”
Leaning forward, Logan braced his forearms on his thighs and stared at the floor. “Her name was Marguerite Pisnet. Her father was a trapper, and he was one of my first employees—although he quickly became much more than that. It was largely due to Joseph that I was able to establish myself so quickly. He knew everyone in the fur trade east of Montreal.” He glanced up with a quick smile. “Joseph was smart as hell and as honest a man as you’d ever want to meet.”
“He sounds just the sort of man you’d want for a father-in-law. And ifyoumarried his daughter, I’m sure she was splendid too.”
Logan sat up and stared absently at the lone window in Royal’s office, one with a view over the bustling commercial street. There were ghosts in his stark, blue gaze, and Royal’s heart ached to know that his brother had encountered yet more sorrow in his troubled life.
“Marguerite was a bonny lass with a kind and gentle heart,” Logan said. “I never once heard her say a mean word about anyone. I didn’t deserve her, but the lass decided she loved me, and there was no talking her out of it.”
Royal’s throat went tight at the quiet sorrow in his brother’s voice. After a fraught moment, he forced a smile. “I’ll wager she was pretty, too. She had to be, if you married her.”
As he’d hoped, Logan huffed out a grudging laugh. They both knew Logan had always had an eye for the ladies and they’d eyed him right back. “I’ll have no cheek from you, lad, or you’ll find your arse flying out through that window.”
“You always did get the prettiest ones, you lucky bastard,” Royal said with a grin. “So, what else can you tell me about her? With a name like Marguerite Pisnet, she was obviously French.”
The French had settled quite a bit of Lower Canada before the English arrived to complicate things.
“Not really,” Logan said tersely.
Royal frowned. “She’s English, then?”
“No.”
“Logan, do you want me to guess some more?”
His brother threw him a challenging gaze. “Marguerite was Mi’kmaq.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Royal said slowly.
“The Mi’kmaq are the native inhabitants of that part of Canada.”
Royal blinked. “Oh, I see. Why does she have a French name, then?”
“There was a great deal of intermarriage between the French settlers and the Mi’kmaq. Many of the natives converted to Catholicism, as well. Marguerite’s father is half French, or Acadian, more properly, and there’s an Acadian grandmother on the maternal side, too. The Acadians were the French who permanently settled the region.”
That he did know. “They were then driven out by the English in the wars of the last century, were they not?”
“Indeed, although Marguerite’s family never left. They stayed in Nova Scotia and mostly survived off fishing and trapping, although they also had a small farm. I met her father shortly after I arrived, and he almost immediately came to work for me.”
“I see.” Royal cocked an enquiring eyebrow. “And did you really think we would hold it against you that you married someone of native blood?”
Logan lifted his shoulders in a diffident shrug.
“Don’t be such an idiot,” Royal said. “We’re Highlanders. To the English,we’rethe savages. They treated us like that for centuries, as you recall. We would have understood your situation better than anyone.”
His brother spread his hands in apology. “I know I should have written and told you. But you’ll recall that the Kendricks were a complete disaster at that point. Nick was barely functioning after little Cam’s death, and then you both took up your commissions and went off to war. I could have written to Angus, but he was trying to hold everything together at Kinglas. Then, when it finally made sense to let you know I was married and had just had a son, Marguerite fell ill.”
