Page 4 of Taming the Heiress
Sir John regarded her with a bleary eyes through a monocle lens. "A home for unmarried young mothers—you must realize that they have exceedingly poor morals, madam."
"I have sympathy for them—I will not condemn them, sir. Girls of good moral fiber often find themselves in difficult circumstances. I only wish to provide help in such situations."
"Now that you are Baroness of Strathlin, and no longer—" he sniffed, leaving the rest unsaid.
"No longer a simple island girl?" She smiled tightly. "True, I am now Lady Strathlin, and I am aware that my inheritance of my grandfather's title may have set some English lords on their ears. But it is proper enough in good Scots peerage."And I do not care what they think,she wanted to say.
He cleared his throat. "Some thought Lord Strathlin was mad to leave his fortune to you. As I recall, you scarcely spoke English when you first arrived."
"And had no shoes." She smiled, and so did he. "I did not speak goodEdinburghEnglish, but I was reasonably educated and certainly knew that what is proper behavior in anyone is also proper for a baroness. In other words, I believe that if we are blessed with more, it is especially good to show compassion toward others, regardless of—social position."
She glanced at the unopened letters piled on a silver tray on her desk. There was much work to be done. Generally each morning she read mail and discussed the replies with her secretary, but Mr. Guy Hamilton had not yet arrived, and Sir John had stayed overlong.
"Madam, your fortune now exceeds that of the queen herself." Sir John sat forward, folding his hands on the head of his cane. "You could afford to support all the charities in Scotland if you wish, but I urge you to fund this one anonymously. Sir Frederick advises it as well, as he recently expressed to me."
"Sir Frederick can keep his opinion to himself in this."
"He is your cousin, madam, and is also on the board at the bank. I understand that he now is your fiancé, as well. May I offer my congratulations? It is a suitable match, I think."
Meg blinked at him. "He told you this?"
Sir John frowned under her gaze. "Sir Frederick is beside himself with happiness and blurted what was obviously a personal secret between you two, at least for now."
"He did ask me to marry him, but I have not accepted. His news to you was... premature."
"Of course you would want to discuss a marriage arrangement with your advisers. The matter of your marriage is of such interest to the bank's board that we expect you would never enter into an engagement without such a discussion."
"When I decide to marry—if ever," she added, "I would make that decision from my heart with the advice of only one man, my future husband, and I would expect the board to accept that. But I have no such news to report. Indeed, I may never wed," she murmured. "I am grateful for my good fortune, but this inheritance... makes marriage more difficult. I wonder if I could believe any man who declares affection for me. Sir, I hope you will not discuss this with anyone. I value my privacy."
He cleared his throat. "Of course, Madam," he stammered.
"Thank you. Sir John, before it slips my mind, please instruct the bank to disperse funds to the new housekeeper at Matheson House as I require."
"Very well, madam." He stood. "A cheque will be sent." He bid her farewell and crossed the room to a set of double doors with etched-glass panes.
Meg sighed. Great wealth, while it eased some paths, created thorny thickets elsewhere in her life. Although she had been able to help many—including the islanders on Caransay when she had purchased the island's lease—she bore a burden, secret and deep, that she could not easily share. The gift of the kelpie, as her grandmothers called it, had brought her happiness, good fortune, a beautiful son—and a heartfelt hurt.
But for the windfall of inheritance, she would have been in similar circumstances as the young women she intended to help through her charitable institution.
Unmarried, with child, Meg had suddenly been named heiress to Lord Strathlin's estate upon his death. Aided by family and friends, protected by money, her secret was safe, and her child was safe, too, living on Caransay in the care of others.
And she would always keep to herself the fact that she had met—and had loved—his nameless, unforgettable, despicable father on a rocky, storm-swept isle.
Married! She wanted to laugh. According to old Scots law, so claimed her grandmothers, she was already married.
She touched the little golden locket concealed beneath the neck of her day dress of blue satin brocade. Inside its spring catch cover was a tiny portrait of her blond-haired son and a small ring woven of red thread and strands of hair. She wore the locket always—for she would never forget the passion of that night, or its betrayal.
As for her son, she saw him just four times a year or so, and the months without him tore at her heart. Strathlin Castle was a magnificent place, an old ruin rebuilt in grand style, but it did not feel like home. The castle had many rooms, and here the niceties of existence were legion. But Meg preferred the simplicity of island life, where days were vibrant, tradition brought reassuring routine, and the beauty and power of Nature was real and immediate.
She glanced along the length of the library, where her companion and former governess sat reading in a far corner. Mrs. Berry's black skirts spilled out of the confines of a green leather wing chair. Meg looked for her other companion, Mrs. Shaw, Sir John's young, widowed daughter-in-law, then remembered she was discussing menus with the housekeeper, a duty Meg gratefully entrusted to her capable friend.
Both ladies had been of invaluable help to her over the past seven years, and they made sure to be nearby whenever Meg met with male advisers and business acquaintances, as Mrs. Berry had unobtrusively done this morning.
A knock at the door preceded a young maid, small and brown-haired, dressed in dark gray with a white apron and cap; she looked into the room. "Ma leddy, Mr. Hamilton is here."
"Thank you, Hester. Send him in, please."
Moments later, a tall, lean, dark-haired man crossed the room with a brisk step, his face familiar and welcome, his brown eyes twinkling. Meg smiled in delight to see her secretary.
