Romancing the Scot (The Pennington Family) Read online

  “So what do you think?” he asked the gray striped cat watching him from its perch atop a barrel by the door.

  Taking a deep breath, Hugh threw himself back into his task. Truscott had promised to make Darby available to him two afternoons each week, and tomorrow was to be their first day together. Hugh wanted everything in order so they could get to work.

  For all his effort, the barn was only half emptied. What was left was still a chaotic tangle of barrels, rope, netting, and pulleys. Some things he wouldn’t remove. The unworkable parachute apparatus hanging on the back wall. The old silk envelope suspended from the rafters. The long crate containing the new envelope, varnished and ready to inflate. The new gondola.

  Hugh dragged a coil of rope from a corner, raising a cloud of dust and sending a handful of mice scurrying in every direction. He glanced over disdainfully at the cat, who was licking its paws and ignoring the situation.

  After rolling up his shirt sleeves a little higher, Hugh brushed the dust from his trousers and hauled out a roll of netting. He was always happiest when he was engaged in physical labor. Truscott and Simons never failed to look at him askance when he refused their offers to send him a lad from the stables or the kitchens to help move things around. And it was more than just the physical exertion. Hugh did his best thinking when he was active.

  To be sure, he had a number of things on his mind. Cases and judgments. He was currently in the middle of deciding a case regarding the legitimacy of two daughters and their right to succeed to the estate of a peer. Then there was the upcoming issue involving a deaf mother charged with drowning her own infant in the Clyde. The case had been languishing in the lower courts for nearly half a year. Hugh would hear arguments in his courtroom on it in the autumn session.

  Outside of his work at the judiciary, he had to decide on the matter of fixing the dam. Truscott needed an answer from him about hiring Irish vagrants. Not that they had much choice. The dam needed to be repaired before the autumn rains put additional pressure on it.

  And his family’s imminent arrival was pulling on his attention, as well. The household had been hard at work preparing for them, but he wanted everything to be perfect for their stay.

  Inevitably, the one image he’d been trying not to think about flashed into his mind’s eye. Grace, looking down at him from the upper floor of the east wing when he rode up to the house yesterday. The moment had startled him. Unable to look away, Hugh stood motionless as a schoolboy, gawking at the loose ringlets of gold drying around her shoulders. He knew the eyes fixed on him were sapphire blue. Her lips fascinated him, and she had a deep richness to her voice that flowed over him like silk. And there were the things she said. Even in a feverish state, she intrigued him.

  When she moved out of his sight and rational thought returned, he’d been happy to see that she was well enough to stand by the window. Her body was recovering, even if her mind was not. Jo told him afterwards about Grace’s complete lack of response in seeing the dress, the coins, and the jewel. And their guest had made no more mention of her father.

  Grace might not remember him, but Hugh imagined that a very distraught man was at this very moment scouring the dockside inns and warehouses of Antwerp.

  “I don’t believe you’re quite presentable enough for an introduction.”

  Hearing Jo’s voice, Hugh turned around. Seeing Grace standing with her in the doorway brought on that same unexpected surge of pleasure, just as it had yesterday.

  She was a hand taller than his sister and thin enough to float away on a light breeze. A straw bonnet barely contained the braided, pinned-up blond tresses. She was wearing a dark blue spencer jacket over a white dress, and he tried to banish from his mind the image of her standing in his study in a nightgown. Where she stood, she was silhouetted by the bright sunlight behind her, making any close scrutiny of her face difficult.

  “Perhaps we should come back at a later time,” Jo said, breaking the silence.

  “Introductions?” he repeated, keeping his eyes on Grace. “Now is as good a time as any. Give me a moment.”

  Hugh rolled down his sleeves and retrieved his coat from a peg. She was watching his every move.

  An introduction was unnecessary, but Jo went through the paces for form’s sake. Not trying to hide her sisterly admiration, she spun out his title, military distinctions, and position on the Commissary Court like a barker in a traveling side show. He was half expecting her to include “bearded lady” in her list of accolades.

  Somewhere in the course of the lengthy introduction, Hugh noticed their guest’s gaze flick furtively past him to the contents of the carriage barn. She was obviously not as impressed as Jo was with his credentials.

  “Miss Grace,” he said when his sister finished.

  “Lord Greysteil.”

  He bowed, and as she curtsied he noticed a blush color her cheeks.

  “Since we don’t know your surname, I hope referring to you as ‘Miss Grace’ is not inappropriate.”

  “That will be just fine, m’lord.”

  “I’m delighted to see you up and about. You’re feeling better, I take it.”

  “Indeed. Everyone has been so attentive and kind. I couldn’t help but improve.”

  Seeing her now, he noticed more than her improving health. Her gaze was direct, her manner poised and confident. Her face had a serious mien; she was not given to smiling without cause. Though Hugh knew that many women employed it as a weapon to charm a new acquaintance, Grace was not one of them.

  “And you’re feeling well enough to allow my sister to drag you out for a walk, I see.”

  “Grace has been insisting on getting a breath of fresh air,” Jo explained. “I thought we could go off in the direction of the bluffs overlooking the river. We don’t want to go too far and overtire her.”

  Hugh glanced at the mess around him. It would still be waiting if he joined them.

  “But before we get started,” Jo continued, “would you be kind enough to entertain Grace for a few moments while I speak to one of the stable hands about horses for tomorrow?”

  “You ride?” he asked Grace.

  “Your sister suggested the outing. We’ll find out tomorrow,” she answered. “And I promise to be cautious. I want no broken bones that might worsen my condition or lengthen my stay at Baronsford.”

  “I’ll have the lads choose the gentlest mount for her,” Jo assured him, leaving the two of them on their own.

  Hugh stepped out the wide-open doors into the sun. This close, she wasn’t quite so brave in her open appraisal of him. She continued to gaze into the barn. A lock of golden curls had escaped the confines of the bonnet and now dangled about her lips. When she reached up to brush it back, he noticed the unadorned ring finger.

  “You’re too weak to join us in the dining room, but strong enough to walk to the river,” he teased. Last night, she’d taken a tray in her room. “I hope it’s not the company that’s keeping you away.”

  “I apologize, m’lord. I only left my sick bed two days ago.” She turned to face him. “I hope you’re not offended. I don’t think I would have been very good company.”

  However striking he thought the color of her eyes before, his estimation soared today. Delicate rings of gold encircled the blue irises.

  “Hardly offended. Though I can’t imagine you would be anything but the best of company,” he said. “You see, it isn’t too often that we have the pleasure of so mysterious a guest here at Baronsford.”

  “You’ll have to pardon me, m’lord, but since I do not recall my past, I’d find it trying to be inspected and judged in strange company. After all, I can offer nothing of substance with which to defend myself.”

  Whenever Jo was at Baronsford, dinner was part of an ongoing series of social visits and engagements. It had only been family last night, but they did need to decide on how they would explain Grace’s identity and her presence here. Her reserve was reasonable. As a judge, he understood the strain felt by t
hose who testified. She was suffering from her loss of memory, and cast among the strangers. Still, he was inclined to tease, hoping to soften the shell of uneasiness.

  “You assume that people will think the worst, not knowing your name or background.”

  “Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t,” she said, looking away in the direction Jo had gone. “I believe that’s the general attitude in England?”

  “Then it’s a good thing we’re in Scotland,” he said lightly. “But you’re right. Still, isn’t that human nature, regardless of where one lives?”

  “You have me at a disadvantage, since I can hardly use my personal experience in the argument.”

  “True, but your comment would indicate that you’re not English.”

  “You see? Even in this I can’t defend myself.” She turned her attention again to the carriage barn.

  Hugh recognized the depth of her discomfort and searched for a topic that would distract her from her current dilemma. She made the choice for him.

  “Lady Jo told me you found the coins.”

  “Yes, I did. That first day. They were lying in the bottom of the basket.”

  Hugh wondered again if she could be an American. He had family who called Boston their home. Pierce, his uncle, and his wife, Portia, lived there with their children. Now that the war with the former colonies was behind them, perhaps he and Jo could introduce Grace as an acquaintance of his American relatives.

  “Those coins could be a clue to where you came from.”

  “Perhaps. I just can’t say.”

  He thought back to the day she arrived. “When I was carrying you to the house, you murmured lines from a ballad. Do you remember it?”

  “I suppose I must enjoy reading. I recall hearing my own voice in the crate, reciting lines of poetry. What works they came from, and when I came across them . . .” She shrugged.

  Hugh suppressed a smile, thinking of her feverish desire to read his law journals in the study. “We have two well-appointed libraries here at Baronsford. You’re welcome to use them at your convenience.”

  “Thank you, m’lord. That’s very kind of you.” Grace’s attention turned to the gondola she’d arrived in. “Is that the one?”

  “Would you like a closer look?”

  “Please,” she said, following him into the barn.

  “We cleaned out the basket entirely. Aside from the coins, there was nothing else to indicate where you might have come from, other than Antwerp.”

  Slowly, she circled the basket and peered inside.

  “This must feel like meeting an old friend.”

  “Actually, I now know how Lazarus might have felt passing his burial cave.” She shivered. “Or how a former prisoner feels returning to view his cell.”

  Five days, he thought. Captive. Isolated in near darkness, knowing her surroundings only by touch. Never knowing if she would ever see the light of day again.

  He motioned to the open doors. “Perhaps we should go. I don’t mean to torment you.”

  “You’re too kind, m’lord, but I asked to see it,” Grace said softly. Looking back into the basket, she added, “And I’m fine now.”

  As Hugh watched her, he wondered if she was searching for something that might bring back her forgotten past. He moved to her side.

  “Jo tells me you only remember the time inside the gondola. And even those memories are scattered and limited.”

  “Limited in every respect.”

  It wasn’t his imagination that she was becoming paler. “I’m pressing you.”

  “What stays with me being trapped in it is my response to what I thought was certain death,” she went on. “I suppose wishing for the end to come, praying that each breath would be your last, is too powerful an emotion to forget.”

  “I’m sorry that an instrument of my avocation was the cause of your ordeal.”

  “I might not remember the past, but I’m certain neither you nor this basket are responsible for any of it.”

  Slowly, she turned and glanced around at the other equipment.

  “Are you a balloonist?”

  “Guilty. As you can see, flying is my passion,” Hugh told her.

  Moving past barrels and piles of netting, she paused and looked at the knotted ropes dangling like nooses from the rafters.

  “And that balloon is the only thing that keeps you up in the air?” she said, pointing up at the deflated silk.

  “It’s called the envelope. But yes, that and the gas that will fill it.”

  “They say there is a fine line between courage and madness.”

  “So my sister tells me,” he replied, smiling.

  “Humans have been earthbound since the Garden of Eden.”

  “That’s true. Man has been aloft for scarcely more than thirty years. But we’re learning more and more about flying every day. In this modern age, Daedalus and Icarus are no longer mythical beings; men are taking to the skies and dueling with the stars.”

  “And of course, what a better way to die.” Grace looked at him with the hint of a smile.

  Her comment took him by surprise. Hugh couldn’t stop himself. He laughed out loud.

  He followed her to a work bench, where she picked up a small block-and-tackle pulley. As she turned the wheel, his eye was drawn to the delicate curve of her ear, the soft shadow playing along her throat, the white ribbon of her bonnet lying lightly on the swell of her breast.

  “I envy you,” she admitted. “So what is it like to see the world from that vantage point?”

  He was charmed by her interest.

  “When you’re up high, all you see is the beauty. The fields and woods are like a cotter’s patchwork quilt. You see a vast pattern of geometric shapes, bordered with fringe, rolling away to each horizon. Myriad shades of green and golden-brown greet the eye.”

  “It sounds quite beautiful.”

  He gazed into her eyes again. He’d only seen this shade of blue in the morning sky above the Eildon Hills.

  “Are you ever afraid?”

  “Only a fool feels no fear when it’s warranted. It’s reckless to ignore the risk of imminent death. At the same time, living in fear is a kind of death. It needs to be conquered,” he told her. “We cannot stop living life to the fullest simply because death awaits us somewhere in the future.”

  Hugh stopped, realizing he was talking to himself as much as to her.

  “‘If it be not now,’” she murmured, “‘yet it will come.’”

  “The readiness is all.”

  She was quoting Hamlet. He was impressed. Hugh saw her gaze drift back to the gondola.

  “You faced fear in that basket,” he said. “Come up with me. Come on my next flight.”

  He was shocked at the sound of his own invitation.

  Grace wrapped her arms around herself. She was thinking about it, and he was encouraged that she didn’t immediately refuse.

  “Do you mean it?”

  “I do. But I should tell you this is the first time I’ve ever invited a woman to join me aloft.”

  “I have no memory of the past,” she said, her eyes sweeping over the contents of the barn. “But I believe I would recall ever doing something this reckless.”

  “Then you must come. What better way to replace a terrible memory than with an exhilarating one.”

  “You are a master of persuasion.” She laughed. It was the first time he’d heard her laugh. Hugh decided he’d never heard a lovelier sound.

  She glanced up at him, her eyes flashing with interest. “When are you planning to fly again?”

  “I’m hoping to take this new equipment aloft in about a fortnight.”

  The sound of Jo’s voice reached them.

  “Then I accept.”

  It took a moment for her words to sink in.

  “Truly? You’ll go in that basket alone with me? High into the air?”

  “I already said it’s a good way to die.” Her face was composed, but that hint of a smile
was back. “When you’re ready to fly again, if I’m still here at Baronsford, I’ll do it.”

  Hugh watched Grace touch the basket one more time as they made their way out.

  Her words echoed in his mind. If I’m still here. He’d been thinking that the length of her stay would depend on how long it was before she remembered. Or as long as it took for his clerk to come back from Antwerp with information regarding her identity. Now, for the first time, it occurred to him as he followed her out into the afternoon sun that his man might just return with a family member who would claim her.

  “Will you be joining us for dinner tonight?” he asked.

  “I’m afraid not, m’lord,” Grace said. “I can see I’m going to need to rest and build up my strength.”

  He was disappointed that she wouldn’t be joining them.

  Jo was waiting beyond the equipment scattered around the open doors. “It’s all arranged for tomorrow. I chose a lovely mare. You’ll be safe.”

  Hugh decided it would be best not to mention the balloon ride. “What are you planning for tomorrow?”

  “I thought we’d ride down to the loch in the deer park after breakfast.”

  “I’ll join you.”

  Grace’s gloves slipped from her hand. Hugh picked them up and waited until she met his gaze before handing them back.

  The warmth in her look confirmed his impulse.

  “Until tomorrow, then,” he said with a bow.

  Chapter 9

  “Drat, double drat,” Grace murmured under her breath.

  An English nobleman. A cavalry officer decorated for his actions in the war against Napoleon. A justice in the High Court, for heaven’s sake. How many marks against him did she need?

  Grace gathered the shawl tighter around her and stopped at yet another set of stairs. She didn’t think she’d come by these before, but she couldn’t be certain. Dinner noises drifted up from the ground floor. Earlier, she’d heard people arriving in carriages. Family, friends, neighbors? It was none of her business.

  She peered down a long gallery into what she was fairly sure must be the west wing. She decided to risk it. Stealing a glance over the railing, Grace clutched the book she’d found in her sitting room tighter against her chest and hurried down the hall. With any luck, she’d find that library before it grew dark.