Page 59 of The Trouble With Dukes
Keswick was abruptly desperate for his countess’s company. Louisa was the most sensible woman he knew, and her advice on the matter of Megan’s suitors had been brilliant.
“You must do as you see fit, Deene, but all that chatting, corresponding, and nosing about will fuel whatever gossip Sir Fletcher has set in motion. I suspect that’s exactly his aim, and I for one do not intend to oblige him.”
“You can’t stand by and do nothing while Megan waltzes into the arms of an unsuitableparti,” Deene said. “I don’t care if Murdoch is a duke. A man with an ungovernable temper or scandal in his past won’t serve, Keswick.”
“Scandal means little to a Windham in love,” Keswick said, “and I never said I’d stand by and do nothing.”
“Then what will you do?”
“I’ll talk to Murdoch,” Keswick said, “and if he doesn’t call me out or beat me insensate for putting a few awkward questions to him, I’ll listen to what he has to say.”
Chapter Thirteen
Spring came to Mayfair, and to Megan Windham. She suspected the season was contagious, for the longer Hamish MacHugh courted her, the more his blue eyes took on the sparkle of a peaceful loch and the merriment of bluebells.
“I’ve realized something,” Megan said as she and her beloved tooled along a quiet path in Hyde Park. Hamish drove as calmly as he did everything else—almost everything else. On a music room sofa the previous week, he’d shown a lovely propensity for passion.
“You will give me the benefit of your latest insight, I trust.”
He trusted, he never demanded. Megan wanted to kiss him for that.
“Cousins are not like brothers,” she said. “Not quite. I have male cousins, but Edana and Rhona are your sisters. You’re more fierce with them than my cousins are with me.”
Hamish turned the vehicle down a shady side lane. He drove a team seasoned by the heavy draft work at the brewery, still quite fit and sound, but in his words, “retired from combat duty.” Their names were Clyde and Angus, and they were shamelessly fond of their owner. Perhaps that was contagious too, for as unconventional a choice as they were for a carriage duty, Megan smiled every time she saw them.
“Fierce isn’t always good,” Hamish said. “Edana and Rhona can grow fiercely acquisitive at the milliner’s or the modiste’s, and then when the bills arrive, I’m reduced to shouting, all to no avail.”
“Give them funds of their own,” Megan said. “Be generous, but firm. When they’ve spent what they have, they get no more until the next quarter. They can borrow from each other, or have their maid sell what’s become outmoded or worn, but give them their own resources to manage.”
He bumped her shoulder gently. “Have I told you that you’re brilliant, Meggie mine? Colin is actually quite good with money and has plenty of his own, though his common sense is lacking in other regards.”
Colin was quite good with charm. “He’d better acquire some common sense. If he’s a duke’s heir, prosperous, handsome, and a novelty in a kilt, then the young ladies will favor him with their melting glances because of those attributes, and not because of his finer qualities.”
Melting glances could lie. Megan suspected most women learned that sooner than she had. Edana and Rhona, who had several brothers, doubtless knew it.
“Colin rarely considers the why’s,” Hamish said, “which is his besetting sin. He’s brave, he’s honorable, but he’s not …”
“He’s a hothead,” Megan said, hearing the worry in Hamish’s voice. “My cousin Bartholomew was too. Impetuous, to those who liked him. Those of us who loved him called him reckless.”
The memory still hurt, of hugging Bart so tightly as he’d prepared to leave for the war in Spain. Willing him to be careful, to behave as if he might take a bad tumble or come to far worse grief with any incautious step. Tolookwhere he was going, and see the danger before the danger found him.
“Colin’s reckless,” Hamish said, signaling the horses to slow from trot to walk. “Though he’s always sorry for his stupid wagers or rash words. He likes you, by the way.”
“I like him. I do not like that your siblings trouble you so.”
Meganadoredthat the path was deserted. She and Hamish drove out early in the afternoon, long before the carriage parade thronged the park with fashion and gossip. With Hamish at the ribbons, these outings became an interlude of greenery, fresh air, talk, and shared touches. Clouds were gathering above, making the day a trifle chilly, but that gave Megan an excuse to sit closer to her intended.
“Family is a joy,” Hamish said, “and a worry. My grandfather was quite young when the Forty-Five happened, but he told me stories of his life as a boy. The land was owned in common, even if it was held by the laird. Fortunes rose and fell for the clan as a whole, and nobody was left alone with their troubles or their joys. We still have the miseries and joys, but much has changed.”
He steered the horses to a patch of grass beneath a venerable oak, and told them to stand.
“You’re a duke,” Megan said. “That’s an enormous change, and it can be a change for the better, Hamish.”
“I’m to marry the woman I love,” he said, punctuating the sentiment with a kiss. “That’s the best possible change.”
For a few minutes, they kissed and nuzzled and risked scandal beneath the quiet oak, though only a minor scandal. When Mama and Papa returned in a few weeks, an engagement would be announced, and the wedding plans would start in earnest. Megan did not much care where or how the ceremony took place, she cared only that Hamish spoke his vows with her.
Hamish had already told her he loved her, sometimes with his kisses, and sometimes with blunt words tossed at her in the middle of private conversations. Megan hadn’t acquired the knack of tossing the words back, but she wanted to.
