Page 2 of An English Rose for the Highlander
“My grandparents left me a plot of land that I can only claim once I am married. The deed is safely tucked away and was not part of the dowry that was…stolen.”
It was the first time Rose had even allowed herself tothinkof the dowry in that way, and in a strange twist, it felt vindicating to pin the blame where it was due.
On the man who saw no issue with ruining a young woman’s life.
“Well, that is good news indeed. Where is the plot located?” Mirren’s face held a much brighter countenance now, and Rose felt herself grow hopeful once more.
“It is near the Scottish border. From what I understand, it is an expansive property just near the territory of Castle MacKay.”
“That is something indeed!” Mirren clapped her hand down on her knee, leaning forward in her seat while setting her parchment off to the side of her desk. “If I recall correctly, there is a Scottish Laird who has been sniffing about that area looking for land. This could be an excellent prospect for you both. Youget the marriage you need to secure your family’s future, and he gets the land so near his.”
Rose straightened, her eyes widening as she considered the possibility. A Scottish Laird certainly was not what she had in mind originally, but she was hardly in a position to refuse an arrangement that might benefit her. Rose knew that the prospects of securing a husband with only a bit of land to offer would be a grave challenge. Still, if there was a Laird on the lookout for a piece of land to add to his holdings, it would be especially tempting for him.
“I will warn you that the man I am thinking of is rumored to be rather cold-hearted and a bit ruthless. He is a Scot after all.” Mirren laughed at that, cocking her head as she tilted up the corner of her mouth. “Not fond of the English, of course, but he is unwed and a piece of land would appeal, I’m sure.”
Taking a deep breath, Rose considered Mirren’s words. An unkind husband was a risk a bride took with any groom, but times were pressing. She was rather cornered, trapped between the potential for two less-than-ideal futures. One on her own with an impoverished family struggling to survive, and one married to a Scottish Laird who might very well see her as an enemy.
But at least then her family would be secure.
“Please contact him, Miss Wood. I will not turn down this opportunity.”
“Very well. I will do my best to reach out to the Laird and see if he is amenable to a possible arrangement. If you would be so kind,” Mirren slid her parchment closer to Rose, offering her the quill, “please detail what you can about the plot of land so that I might forward the information to the Laird.”
“Of course.”
The remainder of their meeting went smoothly and quickly. Rose did feel more hopeful than she had when she arrived. Though the prospect of marrying a Scot with a reputation for disliking the English and being rather gruff still made her uneasy. She had so hoped that her life would remain here in England and that she might find a husband who promised stability for her family and kindness for her.
But wishes would not ensure that her family could eat. A marriage to the Laird very well might.
The door to the estate had hardly closed behind her when Rose was set upon by her parents. They appeared in the foyer as if they had been clinging to the walls waiting for her return, and Rose genuinely had to keep herself from yelping at the surprise.
“So, what did the matchmaker have to say?” Her mother stood just in front of her, clutching Rose’s hands desperately. “Was there any prospect that stood out?”
Rose’s father was just behind her mother, his hand on Horatia’s shoulder, as he said, “You mentioned the plot from your grandparents, correct? That had to afford you some better offerings. It is a sizeable tract of land after all.”
“Please, I need room to breathe.” Rose chuckled with little humor as she stepped further into the room, her lady’s maid, Peggy, taking her jacket and scarf. “It was a fine meeting. I hope to hear from her soon about the potential for an arrangement with a Scottish Laird.”
“Oh my,” her mother mumbled, paling as she wobbled on her feet.
Baldwin was only just able to steady his wife as Rose crossed the hall and proceeded to the drawing room, requesting tea from the servants. Though it was not the time, she needed something to settle her nerves. As they paraded into the room, her parents stood just in front of the small, low sofa, eyeing her with such concern.
“It will be quite all right, Mother. I assure you that I have taken care of this. Our situation, thanks to the Viscount, will be resolved. Miss Wood herself said that the man was looking for a plot of land in the area. It is extremely fortuitous.”
Her father collapsed back onto the settee, a heavy sigh leaving his chest. Holding a hand over his heart, Baldwin sucked in a fresh breath as he nodded gratefully.
“Oh, thank goodness. Rose, you are a saint. A fine daughter if ever I’ve seen one.”
Fighting the urge to roll her eyes at him, Rose instead watched as her mother devolved into a fit of tears, her words scarcely intelligible as she went on about how much this could have ruined them. Finally, breathing evenly, Horatia was able to mutter out a sentence that Rose had to feign disagreement with.
“We were too trusting. We never should have given that man the dowry. We have placed so much on your shoulders, Rose, and now you have saved us by agreeing to marry a Laird of all people. It is a wonder that you managed to find the stomach for it at all.”
Baldwin patted his wife’s hand as she flung herself back against the settee cushions, and Rose rolled her lips between her teeth before offering a proper smile to her parents.
“I knew you would take care of us, darling,” her father praised.
“Of course.”
Rose felt stiff and had yet to sit. She did not think she would, for nausea crawled up the back of her throat, and a bout of fresh air would be required after all this. Her parents looked so pleasantly relieved as they practically melted into the sofa. Part of her wished to scream at them that it was true. They had been too gullible as always, and they demanded so much from her.
