Scandal In Scotland Part 15

"I don't think it would be proper for me to get to know your lover the way you do," William said drily.

She blushed. "Don't be ridiculous! I've always thought you two would like each other, given the chance. He's always been there when I needed him."

The sincerity in her voice hit William like a blow to the stomach. "Then why isn't he the one chasing down your blackmailer?"

Her chin raised. "I've already explained that I don't wish him to know of this problem."

"What you haven't explained is why."

She pressed her lips together for a moment, then said, "We don't burden each other with our personal problems."

"How do you know he's so good if you don't share your problems with him? How is that a fair measure of a man's character?"

She replied stiffly, "You don't understand."

"I understand plenty. You've convinced yourself that Colchester is a fine fellow without expecting him to prove it."

"The earl and I are very satisfied with our relationship."

"I know he must be; he has a mistress who asks for nothing and adds to his consequence. How many men have that?"

"I take pride in providing for myself. I haven't told Colchester about the blackmailer because, as kind as he is, he cannot keep a secret."

The coach hit a rut, jolting them both and sending the curtain swinging. The sunlight flickered over her face, making her violet eyes appear smoky.

William crossed his arms over his chest and lifted an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

She sighed. "I became an actress because my family needed the money. It was the only way I could earn a decent wage."

"I'm sure many young women come to London thinking the same thing."

"Yes, but none of them is the granddaughter of Lady MacToth."

William frowned. "MacToth. I know that name."

"My grandmother was a famous actress until she married my grandfather. It was thought that he married far below his station and she was never accepted by the ton, so they chose to live abroad."

"I remember that story. They were shunned by society."

"It was difficult for them both, but they were deeply in love. She was devastated when he died some years later. She had one daughter, my mother."

"I still don't hear anything worth being blackmailed over."

"My mother also married a peer of the realm, and my father is not an easy man. He is very conscious of his status and he convinced my mother to abandon my grandmother, accusing her of being 'too low' for their company."

"Lovely."

"Yes. Worse, he ran the family fortune into the ground with senseless investments and expenditures. He believes he deserves the best of everything, regardless of the cost." She looked down at her clasped hands. "Things became very difficult. The creditors were threatening to take the house and everything in it. Father refused to admit things were so dire, and Mother isn't one to take action. So I did."

He frowned. "How old were you when this happened?"

"Seventeen. I used my grandmother's connections to gain entry into the theater. She didn't wish to do it, but I explained how desperate things were. It was our only choice. And I had some advantages beyond her sponsorship. My voice carries very well and-" Her cheeks heated. "It worked well for me. I became successful very, very quickly."

"How did your father feel about that?"

"He was furious."

"I can imagine he would be."

"Not for the reasons you might imagine-he wasn't concerned for my welfare. He was concerned for his own reputation."

The fool. "Would I know him?"

"You might; he is a member of White's. He is Sir Mangus Ferguson." Marcail hated saying the name aloud, since she'd spent so much time protecting it. "If you met him, you'd remember him as a proud, rude, ill-suited-" She clamped her lips shut.

William was silent a moment, his gaze considering. "Your last name isn't Beauchamp. So this is the secret you've been hiding-that your family has a place among the gentry."

"I'm not protecting my father," She returned sharply. "If the world knew of my connection to the Fergusons, it would ruin my sisters' chances in society. I've saved my money and made certain they were safe, and they will have what they rightly deserve."

He shook his head. "And you once told me you were the sole daughter of a lowly, long-deceased blacksmith."

"I sometimes tell people that," She agreed. "It keeps them from asking more questions."

"But we were lovers, for G.o.d's sake!"

The anger in his voice made her close her eyes. "I couldn't tell anyone. I had to protect them." She opened her eyes and regarded him evenly. "I'm an actress, William. Do you know what that means to most people? Do you know the insults I have to bear, the insinuations, how men think I'm-" She pressed her lips into a straight line and tried to swallow a groundswell of tears.

William didn't know what to say. The anger and hurt in her voice surprised him. "I thought you loved the attention."

"No. I love acting, but I could do without being an actress." Her rich voice was tinged with bitterness. "Don't tell me my career didn't give you pause when we first met, for I know you were very jealous of it. It's one of the reasons I knew we had to part."

He frowned. "One of the reasons?"

"There was so much against us. When we first met I wasn't honest with anyone, including myself."

She sighed and leaned back against the squab as if too tired to hold her head upright. "I was so naive. I thought that if I loved you enough we could surmount any obstacle, but then you left and that gave me time to see life the way it really was. Reason returned and ... I knew we had to part."

"So it was never about my lack of funds."

"No. It was about success and security. Colchester is well known in the ton. No one would dare make improper advances to me so long as he and I are together."

William's jaw tightened. "Who dared to be improper toward you?"

"It doesn't matter. You were at sea, but Colchester was there. And I realized that had you been there, things would have been worse, not better."

William's chest ached, as if someone were sitting on it. "I should have been there."

"No," she returned sharply. "Colchester didn't care for me the way you did. He dealt with the situation in a very calm, satisfactory manner, and I was left with my career intact and no one's life was changed for the worse. Had you been there, all h.e.l.l would have broken loose. I would have been left without a job, and you would have lost your commission and your future-"

"Hold. What does my commission have to do with-" Realization dawned. "d.a.m.n it, it was the prince, wasn't it?"

She flushed. "It doesn't matter who it was; that was almost eight years ago. And since I've been under Colchester's protection, no one has dared treat me with anything other than respect."

William hated to admit it, but there was some truth in what she said. He'd been a hot-blooded youth, quick to anger and quicker to charge. Life had taught him much since then, including prudence.

William looked at her now, noting how the sunlight caressed her black hair and lit her creamy skin, making it glow as if dusted with pearl. Her large eyes were outlined by a thick fringe of lashes, while her mouth-which was a bit wide for common beauty-bespoke a deep pa.s.sion and sensuality. She was fascinating to watch; it was difficult to tear one's eyes from her. It was no wonder the prince-and other men-were tempted.

"William, I must face this blackmailer and stop him. I must continue to protect my sisters from my lost reputation. I've saved enough for them to have dowries, and my oldest sister is set to be launched this coming season. I can't sit by and allow someone to wreck the one thing I've worked so hard for."

"So the cares of your family are upon your shoulders."

She nodded, an oddly lost yet regal nod, like a child at a tea party trying to maintain a dignity she didn't yet possess.

"Do you see your sisters often?"

A shadow pa.s.sed over her face. "I see them when I can. They can't acknowledge me in public, of course, so I visit when Father is not home."

William thought of his own family, of how close they all were and how they always supported one another. This journey for Michael was no sacrifice, but a loving duty.

That was the call Marcail had answered, the call that had fallen on the deaf ears of her vain father. It would be a pleasure to tell that d.a.m.ned a.s.s a thing or two about the importance of family over society.

"So now you know," Marcail said in a defiant tone.

He realized she'd taken his silence as reprimand. "I wish you'd told me all of this years ago. Why didn't you?"

"The secret of my life isn't mine to tell."

He leaned forward then, his dark blue eyes almost blazing. "I wasn't just a pa.s.serby, Marcail. I wasn't a-a stranger who admired you upon the stage. I loved you. For that alone, I deserved the truth."

"It was my burden, not anyone else's."

"d.a.m.n it, Marcail. When you love someone, you share everything-the good, the bad, the awkward, the scary. It's all part of who you are. If you don't, then-" He shook his head. "I am realizing how unready we both were for our relationship."

That hurt, but she forced herself to shrug. "We were very young. What did we know of life?"

His expression darkened and she had the impression that he disagreed with her, but he didn't comment. Instead, he reached up and hit his fist on the ceiling. Almost immediately, the coach began to slow.

William gathered his hat and overcoat. "I am going to ride ahead and see if I can discover any information about the elusive Miss Challoner."

"Of course." She felt a deep flicker of regret. She'd told him the truth at last, and she could almost feel his palpable disappointment. "I believe I shall nap. I haven't had the sleep I'm used to."

The coach halted and William climbed out, pausing to pull a wooden case from the seat box. He flipped it open, revealing two pistols.

"What are those for?" Her voice wavered just a bit. She'd never considered that he might be in danger.

He checked to see if the pistols were loaded and, apparently satisfied, tucked them into his waistband and covered them with his overcoat. "Hopefully they'll never be used, but I'd be a fool if I didn't prepare for the worst."

"You-you are taking Poston with you, aren't you?"

William lifted a brow. "Afraid I'll get lost?"

"No, I just thought he would be the one to go; you said he was an excellent tracker."

"He is, but I want him here, to watch over the coach." And you.

William hadn't said the words, but she heard them, so she snapped back, "And I want him with you, to watch over your horse."

William looked surprised, but then chuckled. "It's a good thing he's my groom, then." He replaced the empty case and closed the seat box. "I'll meet with you when we stop to water the horses." Without a glance back, he closed the door.

She heard low talking and then the sound of a horse cantering past the coach. With a shudder, the coach rocked back into motion.

For the rest of the day, she saw him no more.

Letter from Michael Hurst to his brother Robert, stationed at the London Home Office.

Once again, I am astonished by the prices you acquired for the last few artifacts I sent. I shall be able to fund at least two more expeditions from the proceeds.

Yet I've been thinking less about monetary issues lately. Studying these ancient civilizations has made me more aware of my mortality. There comes a time in every man's life when he looks back with regret at some point-a day, a decision, a hesitation to act-that allowed a precious opportunity to slip away. Regretting is an exercise in futility.

The past cannot be relived-but the future is the place for atonement.

CHAPTER 13.

The coach traveled at breakneck speed, stopping late in the afternoon at a small village. William had left a note there for Poston at the one and only inn.

Marcail watched eagerly as Poston scanned the scrawled writing. "Well?" she asked when he tucked it in his pocket.

"The captain received word of Miss Challoner."

"Thank goodness!"

"Aye, she stopped here only"-Poston pulled out his pocket.w.a.tch and glanced at it-"an hour ago."

"Then he's catching up!"

"I don't know, miss. His horse was winded and the inn had no mounts left to trade."

"Still, even a winded horse could catch up to a coach."

"She's no longer in a coach, miss."

Marcail's heart sank. "No?"