Lara Temple - Unlaced By The Highland Duke

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‘Good morning, Lady Theale.’

‘You need a shave, Lochmore.’

Benneit stopped, gathered himself and the comment hovering at the tip of his tongue, and proceeded.

‘Had I been given more warning of your arrival I would have obliged.’

‘Had you been given more warning of our arrival you would have been halfway to the border by now.’

Benneit advanced on the elderly lady seated in his favourite armchair, plucked her weathered hand from where it rested on her cane and raised it to his lips.

‘No, only as far as Potter’s Bar. Not even for you would I set off before dawn.’

She sniggered and gave his face a small slap before he straightened.

He turned to search the room for his son and stopped. The word ‘our’ hadn’t registered at first, but now it did. Jamie was seated on the sofa, his stockinged feet drawn up under him, and on the other side of his favourite book of maps was a woman.

‘Papa, she’s helped me find Muck!’ Jamie announced, bouncing a little on his knees.

‘Did she? That is indeed impressive. But can she help you find Foula? Good morning, Mrs Langdale.’

‘Your Grace.’

Her voice was deep, but as bland as her grey wool dress—flat and without inflection. During Bella’s Season six years ago Mrs Langdale, then Miss Watkins, wore Bella’s cast-offs and, being shorter and less endowed, she always looked like a scrawny hen rolled in a bed of shredded peacock feathers—those ostentatious clothes coupled with her unremarkable looks had not been a good combination. She was unremarkable except for her deep grey eyes that Bella had laughingly called the ‘orbs of truth’.

‘No one can lie to Joane if she puts her mind to their speaking the truth. She only has to look at you and before you realise it, the words are out there. Papa said she would have been useful to Wellington during the war.’

He remembered Bella’s assessment of her poor cousin because it struck him as very apt and one of Bella’s rare flashes of insight.

‘And how is Mr Langdale?’ he asked politely.

‘He isn’t,’ she replied.

‘Died two years ago,’ Lady Theale hissed. ‘Really, Lochmore!’

He felt his face heat with unaccustomed embarrassment and he bowed.

‘I am sorry for your loss.’

Mrs Langdale nodded without a word and the sting of heat on his cheeks spread. It was absurd that without any visible effort this mousy woman made him feel ten years younger in the worst possible way. He turned to Jamie.

‘Feet off the sofa, Jamie.’

Jamie blinked at him and smiled, as if well aware this sudden interdiction was merely for his great-aunt’s sake.

He stuck his feet out.

‘But I took off my shoes!’

‘Very proper,’ Mrs Langdale said.

‘It won’t do,’ Lady Theale announced.

Benneit turned back to her. And so it began again. Since Bella’s death two years earlier, the Uxmores had made several valiant attempts to convince him Jamie would be better off in the care of their large and rambling family rather than alone with Benneit in Scotland, and every time Benneit sent them scurrying. Since his father’s death a year ago, their insistence lessened as they respected the period of mourning, but clearly they were only marshalling their troops. And their field marshal was Lady Theale, Lord Uxmore’s sister and the matriarch of that ambitious clan.

‘It is very kind of you to come all the way to town to see Jamie, Lady Theale, but we are departing for Lochmore tomorrow. There are matters I must attend to there and we cannot stay.’

‘Really? Is the entertainment in town running thin?’

‘Not at all, but it has been sufficient for my needs at the moment. Until next time.’

Lady Theale bared her teeth. ‘Joane, I would like a private word with Lochmore. Take Jamie into the adjoining room.’

Mrs Langdale stood.

‘Where is the wall map you mentioned, Jamie?’ she asked and Jamie hopped down.

‘It is enormous . But not as big as at home. Grandmama painted it for Papa when he was littler than me. And there are darts!’

‘Darts! Then I must definitely see it. Come.’

‘In his stockings, Lochmore!’ Lady Theale snapped as the door closed behind them.

‘What do you want, Abigail?’

‘You know what I want, Benneit. I want Bella’s boy to grow up like the son of a Duke he is and not like a wild animal.’

Her voice faltered a little at his look.

‘At the very least he should have female guidance.’

‘He has his nursemaid.’

‘Nursemaid! She must be seventy if she’s a day. That boy needs someone young and with the energy to see him through the next couple of years until he is sent to school. Or better yet, send him to school at St Stephen’s as you were and, as it is a mere ten miles from Uxmore, we will be at hand to visit when necessary. It is still an excellent institution and will prepare him well for his role. Your father and mother approved of it, so I see no reason to cavil at their choice. I am sure had Bella lived she would have advised you the same. She always meant to maintain close ties with the family, as you are well aware. This would fulfil all their wishes.’

Benneit turned away, locking his jaw against the fury her words evoked. Better yet... What the devil did she know about sending a child hundreds of miles away from everything he cared for simply so he could become her idea of a proper Duke?

‘My father and mother did not send me to St Stephens at five years old to prepare me for my role, but to get me out from underfoot so they could concentrate on making each other miserable without any assistance on my part. As far as I am concerned, the same does not apply to Jamie. He will learn to be Duke of Lochmore by understanding Lochmore down to its last acre and tenant, not by being caned by a brutish headmaster and bullied by upper-form boys.’

Lady Theale inspected the head of her cane and sighed.

‘Your mother was one of my closest friends, Benneit, and since it was through me that she met your father, I confess to a sense of responsibility. I am the first to admit that, though she was a brilliant woman, she had a volatile temper and was not...warm. Unfortunately your father was much the same which made for a tumultuous union. However, despite their failings, they cared deeply for each other and cared for you as well, though I dare say they were not adept at showing it.’

‘I am not asking for sympathy, Abigail. For the very last time, I will not, ever, cede Jamie to be taken to Bella’s family. He is my son, my family, and I am his. No one will ever love him as I do. Do you understand what that means?’

‘It may surprise you, but I do. You always were the closest to him. Made Bella jealous, the two of you, even as young as he was. Said you loved him more than you did her and that, believe me, was a cardinal sin to someone like Bella. But that is not the point. I admit when she died I thought it would be best to have the boy with us. A babe is not an easy endeavour for a man alone and in that great big draughty monster of a castle... Well, it stood to reason. But I’ve come to see that however surly you may be, it is not too much to his detriment to be raised by you. Therefore I have decided to leave him with you.’

‘Generous!’

‘On one condition...’

‘There are no conditions, Abigail. You have no authority to impose conditions and neither does Lord Uxmore. I want Jamie to know and love Bella’s family and they are more than welcome to visit us in Lochmore or in London, but that is as far as your power extends. I am tired of this brangling.’

‘You look tired of more than brangling, Benneit. Do you still miss her so that you can find no better way to pass your time than hiding up in the freezing hills or burning the candle at both ends here in town?’