Page 94 of Sutherland's Secret
“Besides,” he whispered close to her ear, “I want to see ye rip Blackwood to shreds.”
Chapter 38
They followed the guard through the main room, up a set of steps, and down several hallways. Eleanor was uneasy as they passed redcoat after redcoat. Some stopped to look; others merely glanced as they hurried past.
Eleanor had never made it to this part of the garrison. Upon arrival, she’d been thrown in the dungeon and left there. She shivered at the thought. She didn’t even know where the dungeon was in relation to the main building. Was Colin here somewhere?Please let him be alive.
Before she could go further with that thought, they were escorted into a large room. On one end was a desk against some windows, and sitting at the desk was Cumberland.
He stood and shook hands with Campbell. The two conversed quietly while Brice, Eleanor, and Thomas stood back. Brice was tense beside her, on alert. Surprisingly his weapons had not been taken from him; then again, they were in a garrison full of English soldiers.
Thomas was called forward. He strode up to Cumberland, the mantle of his title and his family history resting comfortably on his shoulders. Eleanor was proud of her brother. When the time came—and hopefully it wouldn’t soon—Thomas would be more than ready to take over the duties of the earldom.
The three conversed. Cumberland glanced at her now and again.
Eleanor’s education had been exceptional, and even now she could name those in the royal house, including Cumberland. He was Prince William Augustus, Duke of Cumberland, Marquess of Berkhamstead, Earl of Kennington, Viscount of Trematon, and Baron of the Isle of Alderney. Son to King George II and brother to Frederick, the Prince of Wales. Fort Augustus was his namesake.
She shivered in awe and fear. This man could squash her and Brice and even Campbell and her brother if he had a mind to. She had to trust that Campbell knew what he was doing. Cumberland wasn’t overly tall, but he had a commanding presence, a high forehead, and a straight, narrow nose topped with dark eyes.
As she was studying him, he waved her over. She cast a quick, panicked look at Brice. He nodded once, giving her the courage to step forward and dip into a deep curtsy.
“My lady.” He inclined his head to her. “Campbell and your brother have told me a fascinating story about your husband and you.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” She curtsied again.
He studied her for some time, those dark eyes assessing her while she stood there, trying to appear humble. She was glad she’d chosen the gown she was wearing. She prayed that Campbell was correct and that the man was fair.
Campbell, meanwhile, stood to the side, appearing at ease in front of England’s leader of the Battle of Culloden. It hit Eleanor that this was the man responsible for driving the Scots off their land, who had ordered the retreating Jacobites killed with dagger, sword, or dirk. This was the man who had forced the people out of their homes and into hiding.
She thought of Morna and her baby, who were hopefully on their way to Canada, toward a new life. The baby would never know Scotland, would never know the majestic land that she came from.
“I think it prudent to call in Colonel Blackwood and get his side of the story,” Cumberland said.
The blood rushed from Eleanor’s head and into her feet. Her stomach rolled and she fought her rising panic. She cast a quick look around the room. Thomas showed no reaction. Campbell appeared bored, and though Brice was still standing at the door, his expression was thunderous.
Cumberland called in the guard who had escorted them up here. He was fresh-faced, far too young to be serving in the military it seemed to her. He cast her a quick, curious glance before trotting off to find Blackwood.
—
Blackwood was in the stables with his men. They had just returned from a reconnaissance mission, searching for the lost Lord Thomas and his sister. How in the hell had he lost both of them? His men were incompetent. Blackwood entertained the idea of having them flogged, but that would raise too many questions that he couldn’t honestly answer.
He glared at the sorry lot of them as they looked uneasily about. He couldn’t possibly cover the entire countryside on his own, but it was beginning to look more and more like he would have to. How else was he supposed to find the blasted brother and sister?
He passed a hand over his eyes and sighed. Ever since Thomas Stiles had arrived in Fort Augustus, Blackwood had been unable to sleep or eat. Constant worry dogged his steps and kept him awake at night.
“Colonel.”
“What is it?” he snapped, thinking it was one of his men. But when he opened his eyes, he saw a guard he’d not seen before. He glowered at the young kid.
The guard didn’t tremble or appear at all affected by Blackwood’s ill humor. “The duke would like to see you, sir.”
For a moment Blackwood didn’t comprehend what the guard was saying. He’d been thinking that it would be better if he mounted his horse and rode out on his own. “I beg your pardon?” he asked.
“The duke requests your presence, sir. Now.”
There was no mistaking that command. Now he knew why the guard had not cowered before him. “Do you know why?” he asked, tempering his anger and frustration.
“I would not know why, sir.”
