send Jamie to Edinburgh and bring him back into Lady Catriona’s orbit, to have his heart broken again, or that old wound reopened.
To be sure, Jamie’s plan was not without risk, and she didn’t want to help Lady Catriona McNare, but how could she deny his request when he had never asked anything of her before? He was the only family she had. Their mother had died of a fever two days after giving her birth and their father of heart trouble when she was twelve and Jamie an eighteen-year-old solicitor’s clerk. Not only that, he allowed her liberties few other men would. What was this risk when measured against all that he had done for her and the way he let her almost practise law? “Very well, Jamie, I’ll do it.”
MacLachlann picked a piece of lint from his lapel. “Now that that’s all settled, I’ll write to my brother’s solicitor informing him that the Earl of Dubhagen has decided to return to Edinburgh and ask him to hire suitable servants, as well as see that the house is made ready for our arrival.
“Your sister’s going to need some new clothes,” he added, addressing Jamie as if she wasn’t there. “Her current wardrobe is hardly suitable for an earl’s wife.”
Esme opened her mouth to protest, then realized his observation might have some merit. While her clothes were clean, tidy and serviceable, an earl’s wife would have more fashionable garments made of more expensive material.
“Esme will have plenty of new clothes,” Jamie assured MacLachlann as he went to his desk and pulled out a book of cheques. “You should, too. I’ll also pay for the hire of a coach to take you to Edinburgh, and you’ll have some household expenses, as well.”
He wrote out a cheque, the size of which made Esme gasp. Jamie was in charge of their finances and always had been, so she knew little of that part of his business, yet although he had always been generous with her pin money and paid the household expenses without complaining, she’d tried to keep house as frugally as possible. Then to see him hand over so much money to a man like MacLachlann …!
Even more frustrating, when MacLachlann took the cheque, the man didn’t so much as bat an eye at the amount.
Instead, he tugged his forelock and said, “Thank you, sir! When are we to depart on this mission?”
“Do you think you can be ready in a week?”
“I can. The question is, can my charming wife?”
Esme ground her teeth and reminded herself that she must put up with MacLachlann’s insolence for Jamie’s sake. “I’ll be ready.”
“The coach and driver will be waiting at our house in a week,” Jamie said. “Come as early in the day as you can to get a good start on the journey.”
“I hear and obey,” MacLachlann replied as he strolled to the door, then turned back and gave them a theatrical bow. “And so, my little plum cake and dearest, bogus brother-in-law, I bid you adieu until we depart for Edinburgh. I only wish I could take my lovely bride to the ancestral seat in the Highlands, but alas, I fear time will not permit.”
The scoundrel was enjoying this far, far too much!
“Careful, my love,” MacLachlann said as he straightened, “lest your face remain permanently in that most unflattering expression.”
Then, with another aggravating smirk, he sauntered out of the room.
Esme immediately turned to confront her brother, but before she could say anything, he spoke with heartfelt sincerity. “I do appreciate you’re taking a risk for me, Esme, and I’m more grateful than words can express.”
Her frustration diminished; nevertheless, she had to voice her concern. “That was a lot of money to simply hand over to such a man, Jamie.”
“It will be well spent and if there’s anything left over, duly returned to me,” her brother replied.
He went to his desk, opened the top drawer and took out a ledger she’d never seen before. “Quinn keeps excellent account of everything he spends when he’s doing a job for me, so I know where every ha’penny has gone. Here, see for yourself.”
He opened the leather-bound book and turned it toward her. On the ruled lines were itemized expenses written in a hand even neater than her own.
On the surface, the list looked extraordinarily complete, down to a loaf of bread and pint of ale for a dinner. And yet … “How can you be sure that was how the money was spent?” she asked.
“Receipts. He gives me receipts, for everything. I have them here.” Jamie opened another drawer and took out a large folder full of pieces of paper of various sizes and in various conditions. Some looked as if they’d been crumbled into a ball, others seemed quite pristine.
“Very well, he may be fiscally responsible,” she conceded, “but there are other elements of his character, of his past, that are far from exemplary.”
“There’s no denying that he’s made mistakes in his past, as he’ll fully acknowledge. But he’s committed no crime and the only person he ever harmed by his actions has been himself.”
Esme pushed the folder back to her brother. “Yet his own family has cast him out, have they not?”
“It’s their loss more than his. His was a most unhappy childhood, Esme.”
“His family are rich and titled. Many people grow up in far more terrible conditions, yet don’t lose their money gambling or waste their days in idleness and drinking to excess.”
“A boy raised with wealth can still be lonely and miserable,” her brother observed. “And he never uses his childhood as an excuse. Indeed, he very rarely speaks of it. I found more out about his family from other friends at school than I ever did from him.”
Jamie put the ledger back in the drawer and raised his eyes to regard her steadily. “While he gambled and drank too much, that was in the past. He’s been absolutely trustworthy and done everything I’ve ever asked of him, and well.” Her brother sat on the edge of his desk. “He feels remorse, too, although he rarely shows it. Do you know where I found him that night I brought him home?”
She shook her head.
“On Tower Bridge. He never said what he was doing there, but the way he was standing there, looking down at the water …” Jamie shook his head before turning to stare out the window, unseeing. “I don’t think he was taking the air, and if I hadn’t been searching for him and found him …”
Quintus MacLachlann had been about to kill himself? She found it difficult to accept that a man of such vitality would ever seek to end his existence.
“Thank God I did find him, and I’ve been more than glad ever since,” Jamie said as he pushed himself off the desk.
He looked back at Esme and studied her face. “Is that all you’re worried about, Esme? Or do you think he might try to take liberties with you? If so, rest assured that he won’t. He’s had … well, there have been women in his life, I know, but he’s never been cruel or lascivious. If I thought there was any chance of that, I’d never let you go with him, especially in the guise of his wife. Besides, if there’s a woman alive who’s immune to any man’s attempted seduction, it’s you.”
Yes, she would be immune to any
