A Scot to the Heart by Caroline Linden

Four weeks later

Carlyle Castle looked much the way he remembered it, though now tinged with the colors of winter instead of spring. Drew braced himself for a chilly reception. Not only had he missed the duchess’s six-month deadline, he’d only written to the castle after everything in Edinburgh had been resolved.

Ilsa studied the cavernous entrance hall as they waited to be shown to a room. It was the most forbidding part of the castle, in Drew’s opinion, and if it were ever his home, he would remove the arms bristling on the walls and the statue of Perseus holding the head of Medusa. “Intimidating,” his wife murmured to him.

“Ghastly,” he whispered back, making her laugh quietly.

The duchess was not pleased at their late arrival. “You were expected back weeks ago,” she snapped.

Drew laid his hand over Ilsa’s. “I had good reason, Your Grace.”

“Hmph.”

“When I left here months ago,” he said, “I had no idea what lay ahead.”

“You asked for my advice on that,” she replied tartly.

“I did.” Drew stole a look at Ilsa. “As so often happens, the best of intentions were made a mockery by Fate.”

“Fate.” The duchess looked at Ilsa. “This is your explanation, I suppose. An affair of the heart.”

“No,” said Ilsa calmly. She had shown no sign of being intimidated or cowed. “It was more than that. It was the meeting of two souls meant to be together, and all efforts to deny it were in vain.”

“All true,” said Drew with a small smile at his wife.

“You say all efforts to deny it.” The duchess stroked her fat ginger cat. “Why must this predestined match be denied?”

Drew hesitated, but Ilsa seized the bull by the horns. “Because my father was accused of being the mastermind of a ring of thieves terrorizing Edinburgh, ma’am. Because I tried to help him, against all good advice. And yet Andrew stood loyally by my side, defying every precept that would have sent him back to Edinburgh and to you. Only the deepest affection could have caused him to do that.”

“That is true.” He brought her hand to his lips. “And I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

The duchess looked from one to the other. “Thieves! You shock me, Captain.”

“I cannot regret what I did for love,” he told her.

She gave an impatient sigh. “I had such high hopes for you . . .”

“And he has not disappointed you.” Ilsa sat forward. “Would you wish your son’s heir to be a man led only by others, cowed by the opinions of gossips? No, I am sure that you would want a man of firm convictions and morals to step into the ducal title. How else can you be certain he will uphold the dignity and reputation of your family against any slings and arrows that may come? Whatever my failings, you must credit that the captain has acted in a manner that could not be faulted.”

The duchess all but gaped at her. Drew sat in tense silence, waiting . . .

“I see it is the most severe case,” said Her Grace at last. “A besotted love match.”

Ilsa beamed. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“I could not meet the demands of the title without the support of the woman I love.” Drew nodded at Ilsa in solidarity. “Nor am I willing to attempt it.”

After a moment the duchess sighed. “I see I have no say in the matter.”

“What God has joined together, let no man put asunder.” But Drew bowed his head. “We would welcome your blessing, though.”

For a moment she looked between the two of them. “I have a little experience of this now, you know. Maximilian was here a month ago, also with a wife in hand, and I gave him my blessing.”

Drew looked up in surprise. “Maximilian?”

“Your cousin,” said the duchess with a touch of droll humor. “You remember him. The one who laughed and mocked me the entire time he was here.”

“Yes,” he murmured hastily. He’d not thought much of his cousin since that brief meeting. “I hope he is well.”

“As well as you appear to be,” said the duchess, amused by his surprise. “Happily married and respectably employed. I was pleasantly astounded.”

“That is very happy news,” said Drew after a startled pause.

“Well. I wish you both happy. If that is all . . .” She started to rise, but Drew took a deep breath and raised one hand.

“There is one more thing, Your Grace.”

She raised her brows in surprise.

“I have a request,” he began. “One which will, I believe, be to the benefit of Carlyle as well as to me. I beg the grace and favor of Stormont Palace.”

“Well!” She sat back in her chair. “You astonish me, Captain. That is not what we agreed.”

“The Stormont estate is well-kept and prosperous,” he forged on. “It’s kept in readiness only for the convenience of the solicitor, but it is a very fine home. My family spent several days there, evaluating it, and all fell under its spell. My bride and I would like to spend several months of the year there, with the remainder here.”

That was the compromise he and Ilsa had reached. Nine months at Stormont in Scotland, three months at Carlyle in England. It suited them both, and he did not see how the duchess could disagree. He was sure she had no more wish to have him under her feet than he had to be here.

At least, he hoped that was so.

“But you have so much to learn,” she protested.

“And I will devote myself diligently to it,” he replied. “Running Stormont will be invaluable experience, on a more modest scale than Carlyle. It is a jewel, more valuable than Mr. Edwards believes. I submit that the duke should not sell it. Allow me to run it for a few years before any decision is reached.

“And if Stormont Palace can be maintained in excellent condition from Carlyle, surely I can learn what I need to know by directing the Stormont estate. Mr. Edwards will be able to instruct me on the particulars of the castle, and I will be here for three months of the year. In addition,” he added, sensing an objection rising to her lips, “my sisters desire a Season in London. I will have opportunity to make connections and establish myself in town during the course of launching two sisters into society. I have no wish to neglect that aspect of the position.”

“I thought you had three sisters,” she snapped.

Drew hid his grin. “Only two will be in search of husbands.”

“Hmph,” she muttered. “I knew a Scot would be trouble.”

“Your Grace.” Ilsa got up and knelt beside the duchess’s throne chair. “I would also like your blessing. I know I am unprepared to fill your shoes—and suspect I never could—but I am wholly committed to helping Andrew fulfill his role with grace and honor. I hope you can see that he and I are devoted to each other, and to our duty to Carlyle. It is a weighty responsibility, and one best served by a couple, standing at each other’s sides and loyal to each other.” She bowed her head, like a knight before the sovereign.

The duchess stared. Incredibly, after a moment she extended her hand, which Ilsa clasped reverently. “Perhaps you will do, Mrs. St. James. Humility and determination will take you far . . .”

When they walked out into the garden later, Drew was still marveling at her performance. “As if you could never fill her shoes!”

Ilsa smiled. “I meant it! What she has done is impressive. Miss Kirkpatrick told me the duke has been invalided for nearly thirty years. In all those years, every responsibility has fallen on the duchess, with no one to support her. And in that time she has buried three children, all the while knowing the duke’s health is poor and she will inevitably lose him, too.” She shook her head. “I admire her to no end. I am not sure I could bear up as she has done.”

“Of course you could,” he said, but Ilsa shook her head.

“Don’t say that,” she said somberly. “Until one has been in that position, it is impossible to know—or to judge.”

“Yes,” he said at once. His mother’s words came back to him, about how much the duchess had lost. Ilsa understood that more deeply than he did. “You’re right.”

She smiled up at him. “Of course I am.”

He chuckled, and they walked on, laughing together when Ilsa pointed out that they obviously could not live here because Robert would trample or eat all the flowers.

When they had been there a few days, Mr. Edwards asked Drew to take a turn in the bailey yard with him. Since Drew spent hours closeted with the attorney every day, he wondered at this. Ilsa had struck up a friendship with Miss Kirkpatrick, the duchess’s companion, and the two ladies were having tea in the lavish Green Salon, so he agreed.

“I am sorry to say that His Grace has taken a turn for the worse,” said the attorney as they walked.

Drew started, almost gaping. All his plans rested on the duke’s continued health.

“I tell you this in strictest confidence,” added Mr. Edwards.

“Of course,” he murmured, his mind racing.

“Your intention to spend only three months of the year at Carlyle . . .”

“Mr. Edwards.” Drew stopped walking. “Do you mean to say . . . Should I expect—?” He couldn’t even say it. Ilsa had been so pleased with the Stormont compromise.

“As to that, I do not know.” The attorney gave him a brief smile. “Fate is unpredictable, is it not?”

“Yes,” agreed Drew slowly.

“Perhaps it will not matter so much to you.” Edwards paused with a troubled look. “Her Grace does not wish me to say this, but . . . you may not bear sole responsibility for Carlyle.”

What?“I understood there was no nearer heir.”

Edwards bobbed his head as he walked. “No known nearer heir, no.”

“Mr. Edwards.” He was stunned. The last seven months, he had believed Carlyle was to be his—unalterably, incontrovertibly, inevitably. “Speak plainly, if you please.”

Sunlight reflected off the attorney’s spectacles as he faced Drew, obscuring his eyes. “The fact is, I cannot. Her Grace wishes me not to, but I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to believe the title and estate will indisputably be yours.”

“What the hell does that mean?” he exclaimed.

Edwards looked away. “It means what I said. There is no known heir nearer than yourself, but there are . . . possibilities. Remote ones, I assure you.” He paused. “Most men would be angry at learning this, but when I heard of your desire to live at Stormont Palace, to stay in Scotland, I wondered.”

“Wondered what?” he demanded.

“When Maximilian was here a month ago, we had no idea where you were or if you would return safely. I felt obliged to inform him of that fact, and his reaction indicated he would greatly prefer not to inherit.” He paused, tilting his head. “I suspect your bride would also prefer to remain in Scotland and has only accepted the dukedom as the cost of being your wife.”

Drew jerked in surprise.

Edwards nodded sagely. “I cannot blame her. The dukedom has not been an unalloyed blessing to most of the men who held it, and even less so to their duchesses. To my knowledge, it has caused more suffering than pleasure.”

“Thank you for those warm and encouraging words,” said Drew after a shocked moment.

The attorney waved one hand. “No, no. It is that way with all titles—did you not know? The responsibility is enormous and the privileges immense, but those who think them the keys to endless indulgence and gratification . . .” He shook his head. “I do not mean to accuse you of such thoughts, Captain.”

“I hope not,” muttered Drew, his mind racing. “You’re telling me I may be supplanted by another heir.”

The attorney hesitated. “I am telling you there is a possibility.”

“Why wasn’t I told this before?” He raked one hand through his hair. “Why wasn’t my cousin? Was this used to intimidate us?” Drew had no love for Maximilian, but he reacted instinctively to the unfairness of the man being tormented with the prospect of an inheritance he didn’t want. If there was another heir, nearer than Drew himself, both he and Maximilian deserved to know about it, after the way the duchess had intervened in their lives.

“Because there is nothing, as of now, to tell.”

“I have tried to be very conscious of the magnitude of my duty,” he began.

“Admirably so,” agreed Edwards.

“I have persuaded the woman I love to move to England for three months of the year. I have prepared my family to discard their old lives and assume new places as members of a ducal household. I have resigned my commission and diverted the course of my entire life for this inheritance out of duty.” Drew was furious. “And now you tell me there is a possibility, perhaps, that it will all be for naught?”

“No.” The solicitor motioned to keep walking. “Under no circumstances will you emerge without advantage. I am authorized by Her Grace to grant you immediately the property of Stormont Palace—outright, Captain, not mere grace and favor.”

“She’s giving me the estate?” he repeated in shock.

“She is. That is—His Grace the Duke is,” amended the attorney. “In recognition of your efforts and diligence thus far, and due to your persuasive arguments in Stormont’s favor.” He glanced at Drew. “Think of it as a wedding gift from His Grace, with Her Grace’s blessing.”

“But—” Drew shook his head. It was too much to comprehend. “You’re telling me I may not inherit. How likely is that?”

The attorney took a long time to reply. “A slim chance,” he said at last. “Perhaps one not even worth mentioning. I regret any unease I’ve caused you, but in your shoes . . . I would not wish to be kept completely in the dark.”

“And the duchess has known this from the beginning?”

Edwards bowed his head. “She has. It has been her strong belief that the possibility is so distant as to be unworthy of discussion.”

“But you don’t agree.” Drew pressed one hand to his forehead, reeling.

Mr. Edwards came closer and put a hand on his shoulder. “If His Grace should die with no other heir identified, it will not matter,” he said quietly. “Your claim is clear, and I would file suit for it without delay. Once a title is granted, it cannot be withdrawn, no matter how many heirs emerge later. I only spoke, confidentially, because you must know what will be asked and discussed upon His Grace’s demise. The Crown will wish to be sure there is no nearer claimant before they grant Carlyle to you.”

“What should I do?”

Edwards smiled. “Nothing, Captain. There is nothing you can do, except what you have planned. Take your bride to Stormont and be happy. As you desire, we shall be in contact by letter.”

“Yes,” he said, still severely disconcerted. “The management of the estate . . .”

“As to that, I have good news. A new estate steward has been engaged and is already handling business in London. By the spring, I expect he will be in residence here.” Edwards pushed the spectacles up his nose. “And may I say that it will be a great relief to me, sir, to have you and Mr. Montclair both tending to the estate.”

“Right.” Drew managed to nod as the attorney bowed and left him.

Saints. Another heir? He wished the attorney had spoken more plainly—and sooner. But he went to tell Ilsa anyway.

Her eyes lit up. “The duke has given us Stormont Palace? For our own?”

He nodded. “But this other matter—”

She laughed and kissed him. “That also sounds like good news to me!” She put her arms around his neck. “To have Stormont Palace and a connection to the ducal family, but no weight of duty and obligation? What could be better?”

“But you might not be a duchess,” he said, smiling helplessly.

She wrinkled her nose. “What a relief that would be. I married you in spite of it, you know, and if I can manage to avoid it, so much the better.”

Finally he laughed. “You’re a rare woman, Ilsa St. James.”

She went up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. “You knew that months ago.”

“Aye,” he agreed, holding her to him. “That’s why I fell in love with you.”