A Scot to the Heart by Caroline Linden

Drew left the next morning for Ardersier in strangely high spirits.

He had expected to have done this already. When he left Carlyle Castle, he’d planned to spend a week with his family in Edinburgh arranging their move to England, assess Stormont Palace in a few days, return to Fort George to resign his military obligations, and then relocate to Carlyle to assume his role as heir. He would be back within two months, he’d assured the duchess and Mr. Edwards.

That deadline had already passed. The brief trip to Stormont Palace had turned into a visit of two weeks’ duration. He had lost another several days to the Edinburgh thieves and what to do about them. And, of course, he’d spent time with Ilsa, which he had not foreseen at all.

Not that he regretted it in the slightest. In fact, as he traveled northward, he spent considerable thought working out a new plan. Fort George was the first step—he had savored for too long the prospect of resigning his commission in front of Fusty Colonel Fitzwilliam—but everything else would be different.

In this plan, he wasn’t going back to Carlyle. What he’d told Ilsa was true: the duke could very well live decades longer. As convenient as it might be for Edwards to instruct him in person, Drew thought he was perfectly able to learn via letter. If Stormont Palace could be run efficiently and smoothly without the duke setting foot on its grounds in twenty years, Carlyle Castle could get along very well with him in Edinburgh, particularly since he had no actual authority as long as the duke lived.

And the duchess had said only that he should endeavor to become respectable and sober. She’d wanted him to find a suitable wife. At the time Drew hadn’t known a single suitable woman, but now that he had met the most suitable woman imaginable, there was no need for Her Grace to introduce him to any others. Ilsa might not be the bride the duchess had had in mind for him, but she was genteel, wealthy, and beautiful, which the duchess could hardly fault.

And Ilsa possessed one advantage which obliterated any and all objections anyway: he was absolutely in love with her. He was going to stay in Edinburgh and court her properly. If he could persuade her to marry him despite the Carlyle inheritance, he’d willingly risk the duchess’s disappointment.

He reached the fort after several long days in the saddle, arriving in a cold mist that made him doubly glad to be quitting this spot. He found his old quarters shut up and dark, and his man MacKinnon sharing whisky with the men.

“Captain!” He leapt to his feet. “I’d no warning of your return.”

Drew almost laughed. “Because I sent none. I want a word, MacKinnon.”

The sergeant was amazed by his news. “A duke!” he repeated. “A bloody duke of England!”

“’Twas a shock to me, as well. But as it’s true, I’m done with the army.”

MacKinnon nodded in awed agreement. “Aye! A man would be a bloody fool to stay in!”

Drew clapped his shoulder. “You’ve been a good man for me, MacKinnon. If you also wish to be done with this . . .”

The man hesitated only a moment. “Nay, Captain. I’ve family in Inverness.” A crooked grin crossed his face. “And ye couldna pay me enough to live in England—not you, nor a duke.”

“Aye,” said Drew, straight-faced. “If you’re ever desperate enough to change your mind, though, I’ll have a place for you.”

His interview with the colonel was entirely gratifying. “Duke of Carlyle?” repeated Fitzwilliam, thunderstruck. “His heir?”

“Aye,” replied Drew placidly.

“You claimed you had naught to do with the family!”

“I never did,” he agreed. “Until they discovered I stand next in line for the title.”

The colonel continued to glare at him. “I thought you’d deserted.”

“There’s no reason why you should have,” was his cool reply. “But now I’ve come to resign my commission, so it matters little to me what you thought.”

That seemed to remind the colonel that the lowly captain he’d regularly assigned to oversee road repair had suddenly become someone with influence and status, and he grew a great deal more accommodating and cordial, to Drew’s amusement.

He had allotted three days at the fort to pack his belongings, settle a few debts, and make his farewells. News of his good fortune spread through the fort like wildfire, though, and he was entreated to stay for several dinners, each including many rounds of toasts and huzzahs. He would not miss the army, but he would miss his men and his friends among the officers, and the thought that this was farewell forever weakened his resolve. His three days stretched to six, then eight, after which he swore off any more celebrations. The last one, thrown by the men of his own regiment, left him severely off-color and intensely glad he didn’t have to form ranks that morning.

“No more, aye?” he said groggily when MacKinnon brought in water and set out his razor.

“Aye, Captain. Not if you’re to leave tomorrow.”

Drew groaned at the thought of a day in the saddle, even one that led him back to Ilsa, and draped one arm over his face. “Don’t speak of that now. I may not be able to stand before then.” Rain pattered on the windows, making travel unthinkable. It was a good day to stay abed and let his head recover.

MacKinnon was still chuckling when a knock sounded on the door. The sergeant returned a moment later with a letter in his hand. “By express messenger, sir.”

“Express?”

MacKinnon nodded. “From Edinburgh. He says he’s to wait for an answer if there is one.”

Drew lurched upright, ignoring the ferocious pounding in his head unleashed by the action. The handwriting was Felix Duncan’s—who knew he meant to return soon, who wouldn’t bother sending a messenger for anything but a crisis, let alone an express messenger who rode through a storm and waited for a reply. He tore it open, scanning quickly.

His curse made MacKinnon look up. “I need to leave now,” said Drew, staggering out of bed. “Send someone to saddle my horse and arrange for my baggage to be shipped south. And tell the messenger I’m going with him back to Edinburgh. Find him a fresh horse.”

“Now, sir?”

“Within the hour,” said Drew grimly, and he reached for his boots.