Page 15 of The Lady in Pearls
“What about Cameron McLeod and Eliza?” Moira asked. When Daphne showed open confusion, Moira patted her arm and added. “Cameron and Lachlan have been friends since they were wee bairns. They live only a short distance away. Cameron recently married. Eliza is a sweet lass.”
“Oh, that would be lovely.” Daphne’s shoulders sagged in relief and Lachlan now frowned. He didn’t want his close friends to see him marry the daughter of the man who had driven William to his death. Not that anyone except him would ever know the truth, but his victory was grim and he didn’t wish to celebrate it.
“Please, Lachlan.” Daphne breathing his first name drew him from the thoughts that shadowed his heart.
Candlelight illuminated her features, showing her full and beseeching eyes. That soft part of his heart he thought he’d buried with William resurrected itself.
“I should like very much to meet your friends.” Her smile was tentative and shy.
He tried to cling to the edges of his anger and bitterness.Tell her no, just say no. But the refusal never made it past his lips.
“Er… I suppose I could invite them. We will need witnesses, after all.”
“Wonderful!” Moira exclaimed. “We will make a party of it. I know we must still mourn, but I could do with a bit of laughter in this house. I believe it’s what William would have wanted.”
Both women turned to him, hope shining in their eyes. Lachlan knew he would never win an argument if both his mother and bride aligned. He stared down at the food as dinner was brought in, but did not think he could eat. Conversation moved around him and he felt much like a large stone cast in a stream. The rivers of words flowed around him, unstoppable, soothing. He hated how easily his mother and his fiancée got along. He threw in a word or two when questions were sent his way, but the ladies seemed content to talk on without him.
He had made the foolish assumption that by bringing Daphne here, he could control her happiness and keep her defeated and miserable. But he hadn’t planned that his mother would take to Daphne so quickly. Since William’s death, she’d been quiet, her heart wounded by her grief. Now he saw the glint of joy in her eyes and he welcomed the return of her smile. If he ruined Daphne’s happiness, it would make his mother retreat into her pain all over again and he could not do that to her.
I should never have agreed to meet Daphne. Damn Stirling and his foolish ideas.
He could still break the contract and send Daphne back to Stirling. But Lachlan couldn’t stomach the thought of another man claiming her.
He listened to his mother and Daphne talk, but the longer he watched them, the more his stomach turned to knots. He shoved his chair back and stood. Moira and Daphne turned to him, eyes wide in surprise.
“Excuse me. I’m afraid I don’t feel well.” He offered no other explanation, but simply left the dining room.
The corridor outside was dark, with evening shadows playing tricks upon his eyes. He paused at the base of the grand stairs to face the portrait of his older brother. William stood proud in his kilt and black coat. His face held an eerie, life-like quality. The artist had captured the hint of sorrow in his eyes and the worry lines around his mouth. William had always been one to fret over even the smallest of details.
Brother, why did you do it?
He closed his eyes. The memories were there, swirling just beneath the surface like the waters of a deep loch. He couldn’t block out the past; it came rushing up to meet him, drowning him.
The late fall at Huntley Castle was always exquisite. The gardens were just beginning to lose their summer blossoms and the walkways were littered with colored petals. The trees were turning a brilliant array of reds and golds, which set the sky on fire when the sun began to set behind the edge of the castle.
Lachlan soaked in the beautiful view as he rode up to the front steps. As he dismounted, he felt that the world held out every answer, every dream to him. He smiled as he dropped the reins into the hands of the waiting groom and took a step toward the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw William at the window of his study, watching him. Lachlan waved, eager to see his brother. He’d only just returned from a month in London.
But William hadn’t waved back. He hadn’t seen Lachlan, at all. His gaze had been distant, seeing things beyond the window’s view. Then he noticed the pistol in William’s hand.
Why—
Lachlan rushed into the house, but he only made it a few feet before the shot rang out.
“William!” Lachlan plunged into his brother’s study, skidding to a halt inside. He saw William’s leg stretched out from behind his elegant desk.
“Will—” the name choked him. William didn’t move.
Lachlan stumbled forward, his legs leaden and his hand shaking as he approached the desk and leaned over to stare down at the pistol laying close to William’s right hand. And when he turned his gaze away, he saw the crimson splatter staining the wall.
The contents of Lachlan stomach threatened to rise. He covered his lips with the back of his hand, a strangled sound escaping his lips.
“Oh God…Oh God…”
The rustle of people in the doorway shocked Lachlan back to life. He felt as though he’d been split down the middle, like a lightning strike hitting an old oak tree. Part of him, the carefree part, was gone. What remained was a shell. That part of him took charge, sending a footman for the doctor, even though William was clearly gone. He ordered his mother to be kept away. She couldn’t be allowed to see her son like this.
How long he stood there as the world passed around and by him, he wasn’t sure. The body was covered and taken away, blood wiped from the walls. Only the dark, almost black, stain on the carpet remained.
Lachlan’s knees shook as he collapsed into William’s desk chair. His eyes burned as he fought to breathe past the agony that ripped through him like a storm upon the coast. He struggled to suck in a painful breath as he stared at his brother’s desk.
