True Heart (28 page)

“Then you don't remember us?”

“It's coming back to me a little at a time. Cameron and Agnes told me all about you. I have remembered that you tried in vain to teach me to sew, and after seeing some of your gowns, I wish I had been a better student.”

“Oh, fither that. One dressmaker in the family is plenty, and I haven't enough work to keep me busy as it is. I'll design a new wardrobe for you. You'll need a dozen ball gowns, something unforgettable for when Papa presents you to the queen. The king is a dry patch, they say.”

“The queen of England? Virginia quaked inside. “No, you mustn't—”

“Speak not another word of protest, Virginia. 'Tis my duty to ensure that we are the best-dressed women in Scotland, England—” She fluttered her hand. “Everywhere we go.”

Why did Cameron remain silent?

Suddenly serious, Lottie said, “Where is Papa? Where's Juliet? Has something happened to them?”

Virginia hesitated, certain Cameron would explain. She hadn't seen Papa since their farewell dinner at the inn in Norfolk. Her last sight of Mama, standing on the threshold of Virginia's room, was a moment she'd as soon forget.

When Cameron said nothing, Virginia thought him the grandest troll of all. That decided, she answered Lottie.

“Boston? Whatever for?”

“To inspect a mill.”

Cameron cleared his throat. Turning, Virginia saw him glance pointedly toward the house. She looked over Lottie's shoulder and spied Sarah, standing in the entryway, an identical boy on either side of her, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Is that really you, Virginia?” she said on a sob.

Lottie released her, took the basket, and gave her a nudge. As she hurried to Sarah, she heard Lottie say, “Virginia has lost her memory, Sarah. That's why we couldn't find her. But she's remembering more every day.”

“Oh, Virginia.” Sarah held out her arms. “Praise God for leading Cameron to you. We thought you were—we just did not know what to think.”

Virginia knew. They thought her dead and why not? They weren't soothsayers, able to conjure up spirits and see into time. They were a family who had grieved over her loss. But now they were blessed, which is exactly how Virginia felt as she stepped into Sarah's embrace.

Sarah, the scholar. Sarah, with a heart of gold. Sarah, who towered over everyone in the family except Papa and Cameron. Sarah, who upon her wedding day, asked her husband to pledge her dowry for a boarding house to aid the poor.

“Where have you been all this time?” she asked. “What has happened to you?”

Again, Virginia expected Cameron to come to her aid, but he did not. He chatted with Lottie about what colors and fabrics would flatter Virginia's complexion and height.

“It's a long story. I'm back now, and that's all that matters.”

“Who took you?”

Cameron's continued silence unnerved Virginia more than the masquerade. He had no reason to be unhappy with her; she hadn't lied about having a lover. She had every right to scorn him.

“Were you hurt or ill-treated?”

“No, not at all, and Agnes has told me everything that's happened in the family since I've been away.”

“She never lost hope, bless her heart.” She touched Virginia's cheek. “You're the image of Grandma MacKenzie.”

“Mama?” said one of the boys. “Who is she?”

“Sarah,” Lottie said, shooing the twins into the hands of a nanny. “We do not ask embarrassing questions while standing in the entryway or compare anyone to the dead.”

Sarah gave Virginia a quick hug, then stepped back. “How remiss of me to forget rules number 3 and 26 in Countess Lottie's book of etiquette.” She winked at Virginia. “We are only allowed to ask embarrassing questions while in the parlor.”

Like water rolling off a mallard's back, the insult didn't faze Lottie. “In the case of Virginia's resemblance to our grandmama, I temporarily suspend rule number 26—but only until after dinner.”

Sarah templed her hands and bowed. “Oh, thank you, my lady. You are ever wise and generous.”

“I'll leave you ladies to your reunion,” Cameron said. “Notch will take me home.”

Virginia almost called him back. But if she were honest with herself, she couldn't decide if she wanted him to stay for her benefit or just to keep him from another woman.

Let him go, her pride said.

Beg him to come back, her heart pleaded.

“What's gotten into Cameron?” Sarah asked.

Her sisters couldn't know that Virginia had always loved Cameron, let alone lain with him. Jealousy and the need for confirmation of his affair made Virginia say, “I suppose he's in a hurry to visit the Cholmondeleys.”

Sarah chuckled. “He always breaks rule number 6.”

Lottie gasped in outrage. “But he is betrothed to Virginia.”

In her typical scholarly fashion, Sarah said, “If she has no memory of him, then the point is moot, and because Virginia obviously doesn't give a bent twig about it, why should we?”

“Have you quarreled with him?” Lottie asked.

“Lottie!” Sarah admonished. “ 'Tis none of your business, rules of etiquette aside.”

Because she could, Virginia said, “He has a reputation, I suppose.”

Lottie sniffed in indifference. “We shan't go into that, except to say that he is popular in certain circles, which you'd be advised to avoid.”

Any satisfaction Virginia gained was short-lived. Women liked him; the feeling was mutual. Bully for him.

The kitten began to fuss and claw at the basket. Lottie peered inside. “Yours?”

Virginia grasped the change in topic. “Yes, am I allowed to keep a pet here?”

Lottie passed the basket to Sarah. To Virginia, she said, “You could keep an elephant and no one would mount a protest. But let's let Mrs. Johnson care for the kitten until you're settled. Now come inside. I'll show you Agnes's home.”

In the portrait gallery, Lottie paused at every canvas and gave a tidbit of gossip about each of Edward Napier's ancestors. The last three paintings were recently done and unmistakably the work of Mary Margaret MacKenzie. The first captured Christopher and Jamie sitting atop the round carriage. In the foreground, Hannah played with a stack of blocks. The next two paintings were stately portraits of Agnes and Edward in their role of earl and countess of Cathcart.

Agnes had posed in a striking gown of black and white. “Did you make that dress?” she asked Lottie.

“Aye.”

Sarah said, “Our sister Lily wore that same gown, only in purple and white, for her wedding.”

Lottie said, “Purple will never do for you, Virginia. I think pink and a dark shade of murray will better suit your complexion. No stripes, though. I learned that mistake with Sarah.” Her prim composure slipped. “My, you two are tall.”

New dresses would bolster Virginia's confidence, but even a closet full of Lottie's creations couldn't make her forget that Cameron had a highborn mistress and was with her now. What were they doing?

A respite came when she was swept into the nursery to meet her nieces and nephews.

From Lottie, Virginia gained information on the where abouts of their other siblings and the date when each would arrive. Virginia passed on regrets from Agnes and Edward.

Lottie thrust her chin in the air. “You needn't pretty it up, Virginia. Carnal pleasures is what they're after. They've locked themselves in the old tower. I doubt we'll see them before the morrow.”

Sarah tapped Virginia's shoulder. “Lottie is an expert on carnal pleasures.”

“Sarah Suisan!” Lottie hissed.

“Oh, goodness me.” Sarah pressed a hand to the bodice of her gown. “I've broken rule number 4.”

The years of separation rolled away, and Virginia laughed.

Lottie laughed too, but the sound held little humor. “Are you mocking me?”

Sarah grinned and feigned innocence. “Me, mock you, the countess of Tain?”

With a pointed look at Sarah, Lottie walked over to the twins and said, “Hamish, Charles.”

Like children after sweets, the boys scrambled to their feet.

She patted their heads. “Did you know that your mother is going to buy you each a pony?”

“She is?” they said in unison.

“Yes. Pretty golden ponies with fancy saddles.”

Over the cheers and shouts of her sons, Sarah groaned. “Why do I even try to outwit her?”

Lottie preened. “ 'Tis a mystery to me.”

Joyous that she was fitting in so well, Virginia told Sarah about their parents' trip to Boston.

“Why ever would they go there?”

“To visit a mill that Papa and Edward own.”

“That's odd.” Reaching down, Sarah pulled a hairpin out of the hand of Henry, Lottie's three-year-old son. “Michael inspected it only months ago.”

Virginia half-listened, thinking about Cameron and his reunion with his mistress. The more she dwelled on it, the angrier she got. What if the liaison continued? Surely not. With that uncertainty, she knew what she must do: find a way to turn the conversation to Cameron and learn the location of his house.

Two hours later she succeeded.

Two hours after that, she borrowed a black cloak from Sarah and made her getaway.

*  *  *

Even in the fading light of sunset, she spotted the house from two blocks away. The closer she walked, the more nervous she became. But she pushed on, determined to learn the truth no matter how painful it would be.

A coach rumbled past. Virginia darted behind a hedge. Crouched there, she trembled in fear. But fear of what? She intended to confront Cameron. Why then was she cowering in the bushes?

The truth dawned.

She didn't fear discovery from Cameron; she grew frightened out of habit. As a bond servant, her whereabouts were always known. She couldn't have excused herself for a leisurely stroll before dinner.

But all that was in the past.

She was a MacKenzie, the daughter of the duke of Ross. She didn't have to ask anyone's permission to walk down the lane. She had a right to find out if Cameron loved someone else; all she needed was gumption, and a MacKenzie had courage to spare.

The residence was too fine, and too few lights shone in the house and none upstairs, where Cameron's bedroom would be. She wouldn't confront them there; she didn't need to see him in Adrienne Cholmondeley's arms to learn the extent of his feelings. She'd read it in his eyes.

But first she had to get inside the house.

Three stories tall, with six marble columns across the front, each as big as a century oak, the mansion occupied the better part of a city block. Abutting a finely manicured parkland, complete with pond, gazebo, and dovecote, Cunningham Gardens, as the plaque on the gatepost named the residence, belittled its larger neighbors. No wonder Lottie had been wild to decorate the place; in elegance and style, it took Virginia's breath away.

She chose a path that skirted the pond and led to the carriage house. A peek through the windows would tell her if the crested coach were here.

“Evenin', miss.”

Gasping, she whirled and saw a man coming out of the carriage house. He wore livery, and although she couldn't see his face, she suspected that he was the driver who'd come to the dock today.

“No need to be afraid. The streets here are safe.”

“I wasn't afraid.”

“Having a walk in the park, are you?”

She had every right to be here. “Yes. It's a pleasant evening.”

“You ain't Scottish.”

She didn't feel Scottish either. “No, I'm from . . . Philadelphia.”

“Come here with that Redding chap, eh?”

“Why would you say that?”

He folded his arms and eyed her up and down. “ 'Cause folks
leave
Scotland for America. Not the other way 'round.”

Agnes had told Virginia that during the voyage. But this man spoke of Horace Redding. Virginia had been too caught up in loving Cameron Cunningham to think about Redding. What had Cameron said? That Redding traveled with an entourage. She grasped the safe subject.

“I had hoped to make the acquaintance of Mr. Redding.”

“You'll find him at the Cariton Inn.”

Could she go to an inn by herself? She wasn't sure. But if this man knew about Redding, others would also. She'd find him, and that certainty pleased her.

“Good evening to you, sir.”

He pretended to tip the hat he wasn't wearing and went back into the carriage house. Virginia turned back to the main house.

A door banged open.

“MacAdoo!”

It was Cameron's voice. He sounded angry.

Carefully, so as not to draw attention to herself, Virginia moved to the path that led to the park. Behind the concealing hedgerow, she paused.

“Nay. I will not do it,” MacAdoo said.

“Of course you'll do it.”

They stood not twenty feet away. Virginia held her breath.

“Fifty pounds says you'll fail.”

Cameron chuckled. “We've a wager then. Now come inside and eat . . . unless you've lost your taste for fresh beef.”

Virginia squatted down and found a thin spot in the hedge. A coatless Cameron had his arm around a reluctant MacAdoo, and they walked back toward the still-open door. From what little she could see, the room they entered was lined with bookshelves. Cameron's study, she supposed.

As the door closed after them, Virginia got to her feet. Cameron Cunningham occupied too much of her life and left her too little. But not loneliness. The part of her that yielded to loneliness was forever filled.

The urgency that had driven her to Cunningham Gardens faded, and with it came the beginnings of a new plan. By the time she returned to Napier House, she knew exactly what she would do.