True Heart (17 page)

“Men who preyed on children.”

Cameron held up his hand. “I'd be mistaken in hearing rudeness in your tone, aye?”

This standoff was new.

To further his case, Cameron said, “Agnes alone will drive me to madness. Let me take Lady Juliet.”

Cameron might have asked for Lachian's ducal coronet, so incredulous was he. “Nay, you cannot have my duchess.”

“All of your sons-in-law speak in one voice on that subject. They'll gladly give back your daughters in exchange for Lady Juliet.”

He scoffed. “They say that to gain my favor.”

Cameron laughed; it was an old story and completely false. “What favors are you passing out today?”

“As if I could give you anything you cannot buy yourself, and my daughter is unavailable.”

“Virginia needs me and who better to help her?”

He pointed that accusing finger at Cameron again. “First you must help her learn to trust us, lad.”

“I shall, sir, and gladly.”

Lachian MacKenzie was more protective than most men, but he'd had more practice sheltering females. With eight daughters and a protective nature, he'd become legend in the Highlands and beyond. And then, because Cameron felt vulnerable, and because Lachian had been like a father to him, he said, “ 'Tis a bloody hard thing, sir. She pretends no knowledge of me or what passed between us.”

Lachian nodded in sad understanding. “ 'Twill change, lad.”

Cameron extended his hand. “Good luck finding MacGowan. Promise you'll send word to us, keep us informed of your findings.”

Lachian hesitated. To encourage him, Cameron said, “You and Agnes can at last make peace.”

He sighed with overdone exhaustion. A moment later he smiled with unfeigned affection and shook Cameron's hand. “Hoots! She was right, all those years when she swore Virginia was alive. Won't Kenneth crow at that?”

“Your heir will go the way all men do where Agnes MacKenzie is concerned—carefully.”

“Speaking of Kenneth. When you arrive in Glasgow, send word to him and your parents. They'll want to cut short their visit in Italy.”

Cameron's parents were in Venice with Cameron's sister, Sibeal, who would soon birth her first child. Both Kenneth and Cora MacKenzie fostered with Cameron's parents and had traveled with them to Italy. They'd receive word, but Cameron would not encourage them to return immediately. Virginia needed time, and Cameron's parents deserved to see their first grandchild.

“We're lucky men, Cameron.”

Cameron laughed. “And like to grow maudlin unless we change the subject.”

“True.” Lachian called out for more ale. “Now, tell me everything that has gone between you and Virginia.”

Upstairs at the inn, her heart racing with joy, her thoughts twisted by guilt, Virginia watched her mother command the maids.

“Bring two more pillows . . . soft and fresh ones.” Turning, she smiled. “My daughter Virginia likes two pillows on her bed.”

That luxury had been the easiest to lose. This battle would be the hardest to win. Mama had been a bond servant. She'd been quick to admit that her servitude had been performed with dignity. If she knew the horror Virginia had endured, her eyes would cloud with pity and she'd shoulder the blame. Virginia could not permit that.

“Thank you, Mama.”

Ushering the servants out, Juliet closed the door. “We'll get you a maid of your own . . . one of the Widow Forbes's girls. Unless you'd rather a girl from that plantation?”

“No. I know of no one. I mean no one suitable for the household of a duke.” Including herself, but with time that would change.

“You mustn't be afraid.”

“I'm not afraid,” which was the truth. “Not in a fearful sense. I am uncertain about many things . . . a stranger, you know.”

“We were bereft when we lost you. I thought your father would go mad with grief, and poor Agnes was inconsolable until Cameron returned.”

He had said as much to Virginia, but she still didn't understand Agnes's role. “Why was Agnes inconsolable?”

“Because she was responsible for you that day.”

Now Virginia understood. On that day so long ago, she had manipulated Agnes into taking her to the docks. Under her dress, she'd worn her riding breeches. When Agnes had spotted her beau, Virginia had begged money for something to eat and made her escape. All these years Agnes had blamed herself. How would Virginia right that wrong? She didn't know.

“I'm sorry for causing her pain.”

“She's happy now.”

“She and Cameron looked everywhere for me. They went all the way to China.”

“That they did. Now tell me. Have you questions? What do you need, love?”

“Time, I think, is all I need.”

“Money. You should have money of your own.”

“I have my wages.”

“How much?”

Virginia hadn't asked Mrs. Parker-Jones how much a housekeeper was paid, and she couldn't tell her mother how she'd come about the money. So she told a truth. “I have one hundred pounds.”

“A tidy sum.”

Virginia felt a burst of pride because her mother had always valued honest work, praised those who took care of their own. Liars and laggards she disdained. Thank the saints Virginia was only one of those.

“But you'll need a bigger purse than that.” Mama pulled off her gloves and untied her bonnet. Putting them on the small desk, she sat on the bed and patted the place beside her. “Your father will insist on paying your accounts.”

Virginia didn't deserve such generosity, not when she lied to those who loved her. It seemed like charity or, at the least, ill-gotten gains.

The feather mattress ballooned as she sat down. “Do you also insist?”

“Insist? I chose the wrong word. You are our firstborn. Your father is a duke, and although the Hanoverian court is bothersome with its pomp and circumstance, we have a position to maintain, appearances to make. But not often. For your father's sake, will you allow him to be generous?”

Virginia despaired of ever fitting in. She repeated a pledge she'd made to her father. “I'll do my best.”

In a gesture of both encouragement and understanding, Mama patted Virginia's leg. “Lachian MacKenzie is a prideful man. Too much of it, he has, that's for certain. But you are one of the few people who can break his heart. Please do not. He asks little of us when it comes to his rank in nobility. After caring for his family, governing his people and seeing to their welfare are his foremost concerns.”

Before Papa's return to Tain and his dukedom, the people of Ross were in turmoil. With fairness and great patience, the community had prospered. Other nobles and men of authority were frequent visitors to Rosshaven Castle. Parties and large suppers were regular affairs. Knowing she'd be expected to participate, Virginia said, “Very well. I'll need some new gowns.” A quick comparison of her mother's fine dress to Virginia's passed-down cotton frock pushed her to admit, “Mine are unsuitable.”

Taking Virginia's chin in her hand, Mama turned her until they were face-to-face. “Never be ashamed of your circumstances. You are well loved by the finest of people.” And then, as if it were a crown to wear, she said, “You are a MacKenzie.”

“A MacKenzie.”

“Aye. Agnes said you were the housekeeper at Poplar Knoll.”

If Virginia could convince them that her memory was returning slowly, all would be well. “I may be more like you than my father.”

“Papa,” she said. “He insists that his children call him Papa. You look just like him.”

Everyone had always said so. “Yes, I do.”

“We'll visit a dressmaker tomorrow and see if they can manage a few things on short notice. Once we're home, you'll have a new wardrobe. It's colder in Scotland, and you'll need warmer clothing.”

On the short voyage to Norfolk, Agnes had been a font of knowledge on everything from renovations at Rosshaven Castle to the sleeping habits of Virginia's younger siblings. “Agnes said Lottie designs dresses for everyone in the family.”

“She does and receives fifty pounds for each gown.”

“Fifty pounds?” Virginia had no idea how much a dress cost, but she'd find out this afternoon at the market. Fifty pounds sounded like a fortune.

“Don't look so shocked, Virginia, and never give the money a thought.”

“But—”

“But nothing. Commissioning Lottie to design a few dresses for you will do two things. First, it will allow your father his pride in seeing to your needs, and second, it will enable Lottie to repay a small portion of the debt she owes David. He's her husband.”

Debt? Agnes had not mentioned that Lottie owed a debt. Surely her dowry was enough to satisfy David Smithson. Virginia remembered his name but not the man himself. “How can a wife be indebted to her husband?”

Mama sighed. “Because, upon their wedding day, Lottie foolishly proclaimed she'd bear as many children as she chose and declared that her husband had no say in it. David grew stubborn, as you would expect—if you remembered him. Lottie was so sure of herself, she wagered a million pounds on it.”

“Does she have a million pounds?”

“No, and that is a constant dilemma for her because David held her to the bet and to date has given her only four children.”

Virginia knew about procreation; the slaves were encouraged to be fruitful, and the women, devoid of normal propriety, spoke freely on the subject. She'd learned in odd ways the workings of her own body. Even when viewed from the distance of time, the experiences were repulsive.

“We haven't that kind of wealth, and even if we did, your father would not squander money on a wager of that nature. But Lottie is one of his own. So he commissions each of us one dress per month at fifty pounds each. David says the work keeps her out of mischief.”

“Even at that, she could never repay such a debt, not in an average lifetime.”

She laughed, and the sound was so familiar Virginia grew melancholy.

“You always were quick with sums.”

Thanks to Mama's tutoring. The scholarly Sarah had also influenced Virginia. “I practice often, although I cannot fathom counting a million pounds.”

“Neither can Lottie, yet she loves David more than herself. She designed this gown.” Mama stood and untied a ribbon at the waist, which held the panniered overskirt in place. “Divine and clever, isn't it?”

The dress was beyond divine. Rather than yards of lace and furbelows, the blue gown, designed for travel, was decorated at the hem and cuffs with bands of piping in sunny yellow, which complimented Mama's fair hair. Without the formal overskirt, the gown became a practical garment of the kind Virginia remembered from her youth.

Virginia said the first thing that popped into her head. “You look too young to be my mother.”

Juliet's cheeks flushed with modesty. “I used to be as slender as Agnes.” She placed her hands on her waist. “Having children thickens us in the most unflattering places.”

It was easy to say, “You're beautiful.”

She grasped Virginia's hands. “You were ever a delightful little girl. I suspect that you are a remarkable woman.”

At the sweet words, a new heartache assailed Virginia. “Cameron says I was spoiled.”

“He did most of the spoiling,” she chided, but affection for him shone through. “Together, you two were as bright as God's own sunbeams. It was a rare friendship for a lad and a girl.” Her voice dropped. “He suffered, Virginia. It was as if the heart had been cut from him.”

Virginia knew well that pain. Too much the coward to dwell on past suffering, she broached the question that had concerned her since they'd arrived at the inn. “Papa was angry with Cameron downstairs. Why?”

“You've been told about the betrothal?”

“Yes. Cameron told me.”

“Much has happened since the contract was made. You cannot know if you still want to marry him.”

Oh, but Virginia did.

“And he—”

Keen to her mother's halting speech, Virginia said, “He what?”

Mama turned her attention to the piping on her sleeves. “In any event, you needn't decide now about marriage. You can't know if Cameron is the right man for you. Scotland is chocked full of eligible, young men. Lindsay has an interesting heir, and there's that exciting breaker of hearts, Cyril MacCrary. The women call him Cy.” She spoke the name like a sigh. “One of Michael Elliot's friends, Michael's Sarah's husband, has a friend who is a sultan with more charm than you've ever seen.”

She was avoiding the subject of the betrothal. But it was too important to let lie. “Why hasn't Cameron wed?”

“Do not ask that of me.” Regret tightened her mouth. “I could sooner tell Agnes's secrets to Mary. I think you should ask him, Virginia.”