“Signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine
On all deservers.”
DUNCAN, MACBETH ACT I, SCENE IV
The front entry of Oswell House had been draped with white ribbons and red and white roses. Aden would likely have preferred to vanish somewhere private with Miranda, but even the elusive MacTaggert brother knew better than to avoid the friends and family who had aided him in finding his bride. Coll would have preferred to avoid the luncheon himself, because if there was one thing the MacTaggerts excelled at, it was stating their own damned opinions of everything.
At least with guests present, he might have a few moments of peace with Temperance in the Oswell House garden before he dove into the fray. And peace, he’d begun to discover, had its own attractions. A bit of conversation here, a look or stolen kiss there—things he’d altogether underestimated until he’d met Temperance.
No additional MacTaggert wagons had yet arrived, so Angus had either traveled without luggage, or ahead of it. For a man on his deathbed, his father had made it from the Highlands in impressive time. The earl’s horse wasn’t his usual gray gelding, coincidentally enough named Banquo, but a fast-looking chestnut wearing Angus’s tack. He’d changed horses at least once, then.
It was all a wee bit disconcerting; Angus did things on his own time, and while he growled and bellowed whenever he had the chance, rarely had he ever seemed … unsettled. This now, would be an exception.
Avoiding the group of servants gathered in the foyer to give Aden and Miranda their congratulations and good wishes, Coll led Temperance through the depths of the house and out to the stately garden. A dozen tables had been set, and a long table sat to one side, laden with plates of sandwiches and cakes and fresh fruit and puddings and pies. So much for a simple luncheon—but then Francesca never did anything halfway.
“It’s lovely,” Temperance said, taking a half step away from him as Niall appeared with Amy, Eloise and Matthew on their heels.
“I reckon we should sit with Eloise and her beau,” he suggested. “I’d like to get a sandwich or two in me before the battle begins.”
“If I might suggest,” she commented, “you’ve said yourself that you have a reputation as a fighter. They’ll expect that from you, then.”
“Are ye suggesting I bring Francesca posies?”
She sent him a sideways look. “I happen to know you are more than a brawler.”
“Aye, but I didnae think I’d be facing Angus in addition to Francesca.” As he thought about his last few conversations with members of his family, it seemed likely that Eloise had definitely known they’d sent word to the earl. Niall, as well, though as much as he’d have liked to bellow at them for not warning him, neither of them had any reason to think Angus would actually make an appearance in London. After all, their father had sworn on multiple occasions never to set foot there again.
“I very nearly hit him with my reticule when he sat down in front of me,” she said, lowering her voice still further. “And then when you charged at him, I thought—”
“He’s an imposing man on a good day.” Coll glanced over his shoulder as the other guests appeared in the garden, along with the bride and groom. “Give me one moment, will ye?”
“Of course.”
Sending Eloise a pointed glance, he left her and walked over to Aden. “I didnae mean to disrupt things for ye,” he said.
Aden shook his head. “I’m married to my lass. Ye didnae disrupt anything as far as I’m concerned. I did nearly fall down dead when I caught sight of Da, though.”
“Ye and me both.”
“Do ye love the lass?” his brother asked, his gray eyes growing serious. “Or is this ye putting yer great foot in the middle of Francesca’s pretty plans?”
The fact that Aden had asked the question about love said a great deal about how much the middle MacTaggert brother had changed over the past few weeks, as did the way he grasped the hand of the dark-haired lass beside him. “I didnae set out to,” Coll returned, “but aye. I love her.”
“And dunnae hit me, but ye’re certain she’s nae after blunt and a title?”
“That’s one thing I’m damned certain of,” he said emphatically. She might have had a duke’s ring on her finger and an inheritance of fifty thousand pounds, but she’d turned her back on both for a bit of freedom to shape her own life. “If I could figure out a way to marry her and nae hurt the civilized part of the family, I’d nae be here for the argument.”
Miranda put a hand on his arm. “If I could give you one piece of advice today, it would be to follow your heart.” She smiled, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I am also not thinking very logically because I’m practically giddy with happiness.”
Smiling, Coll bent down and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ve nae seen Aden so content,” he murmured. “Seeing ye and him, and Niall and Amy, makes me glad we all came down to London.”
Aden snorted. “I’m going to write that down. I nae thought I’d hear any such thing coming out of yer mouth.”
“Just wait. I’d wager ye’ll have a handful of things to write about before the day is finished.”
While his brother contemplated that, Coll returned to find Temperance sitting with Eloise and Matthew. Good. Eloise had caught his meaning, then. He took the seat between the two lasses. “Matthew,” he said, eyeing Eloise’s fiancé. “How’s yer beak?”
The younger man reached up to touch his nose carefully. “Painful. And an effective reminder of my errors in judgment.”
“I’m glad ye added that last bit. Have ye met Mrs. Jones? Persephone, Mr. Matthew Harris and my sister, Lady Eloise MacTaggert.”
Temperance nodded, putting a charming smile on her face. “I’m pleased to meet you. And I hear good wishes are in order.”
Eloise beamed. “Thank you. You are … My goodness, you’re even prettier up close. Your Rosalind made me wish to stand up and cheer at the end of As You Like It. Oh, to be such a brave heroine!”
“Thank you, my lady. That’s very kind of you to say.”
“Oh, pish.” Eloise reached over to put her hand on Temperance’s. “You are marvelous! I read the review from Adams; he said that at some point the viewer realizes that Mrs. Jones has ceased acting, and has quite simply become Rosalind. That’s not an exact quote, but I so agree!”
“And yet here she is,” Coll interrupted, before Eloise could begin picking garden roses to toss at Temperance, “nae Rosalind at all.”
Temperance furrowed her brow. “I will never have a complaint about someone complimenting my craft, Coll. I think most young ladies wish they could be as daring as Rosalind. I know I did.”
Eloise stuck her tongue out at Coll. “Which role are you playing next?”
“We’re rehearsing for the Scottish play now. We open in two days.”
“Oh, you’re going to be Lady Macbeth!” Eloise abruptly put a hand over her mouth. “Am I allowed to say it?”
With a chuckle, Temperance nodded. “It’s an odd tradition. Saying the name of the character is perfectly permissible; it appears in the play several times, after all. It’s only saying the name of the play that we’re all petrified of.”
“Thank heavens.” Eloise scooted her chair closer. “Is it true what Coll said? That someone is trying to hurt you?”
“It’s either that, or I’ve been having some very poor luck lately.”
Coll didn’t like that she kept trying to put it all to coincidence, though he could certainly see why she would wish to do so. “It’s nae poor luck,” he stated. “It’s good luck that so far ye’ve had but some scratches and bruises.”
Footmen approached the tables, trays of sandwiches and sweet treats in their arms. Thank the devil. A man could starve before etiquette permitted him to eat. While the others at the table were offered a choice of sweet wines, Smythe appeared with a wee tray holding a glass of lemonade, which he set down at Coll’s elbow.
“Thank ye, Smythe,” he grunted. It hadn’t taken over a day for all of the Oswell House servants to figure out that he didn’t drink liquor. In fact, he could swear that on more than one occasion, a liquor tantalus disappeared shortly before he entered a room. He did have a temper when he drank, but he’d only inflicted that on the house once—and it hadn’t been entirely his fault. Aden had been the one to drag him back before he’d sobered up, after all.
“My lord,” the butler returned with a nod, disappearing toward the luncheon table again.
As he looked up from the lemonade, he caught Temperance looking at him, a contemplative expression on her face. “What is it?”
“You could make the next few weeks so much easier on yourself,” she murmured. “A pleasant young lady, a quiet ceremony, an intimate luncheon in the garden, and a glass of lemonade for the groom.”
“If that was all I wanted, I could have had it weeks ago,” he countered, reaching beneath the table for her free hand. “I prefer a fight, and fire, and roast venison in gravy with my lemonade. And my woman.”
On his left, Eloise cleared her throat. “You told me this was for show,” she whispered.
“And ye didnae tell me that the countess had sent for Da,” he returned.
“She didn’t,” his sister protested. “She sent him a letter saying she was worried that you’d gone too far because he hadn’t bothered to tell his sons about the agreement until payment was due on it.”
“So ye knew there was a letter.” He lifted an eyebrow.
“And you didn’t think there would be one?” she shot back.
The thought had occurred to him. Even so, the idea that his father would travel south to London, especially at his estranged wife’s request, had seemed so far-fetched that he could scarcely believe that the earl was actually sitting there beside Niall and Amy. “It was a wee bit more effective than I might have expected,” he said finally.
“I know. That’s actually my papa.” Eloise squeezed Matthew’s hand. “We’ve corresponded for years, but I never thought…” A tear ran down one cheek. “We’re all here. All the MacTaggerts in the same garden. It’s been seventeen years.”
The remainder of the guests—Lady Aldriss’s and Miranda’s friends—seemed to have realized the same thing. The conversation seemed muted for a wedding celebration, and the Sassenachs all clung together like chickens when they thought they’d heard a fox.
“Dunnae put much hope in it lasting, Eloise,” he said after a moment. “Ye’re too young to remember, but I recall all the squabbles and the cursing.”
“Considering that I’ve spent seventeen years waiting to set eyes on you and Aden and Niall, I will put hope in whatever I choose,” his sister retorted. “And don’t change the subject. Do you mean to marry Mrs. Jones? Where is Mr. Jones?”
Nails dug into his hand, and he shut his mouth over the retort he’d been about to make. “For some reason,” Temperance said, “being a widow is much more acceptable to the world than being unmarried. Mr. Jones is a construct. Without him, I could never have rented a house, and I likely would have never been offered a contract with the Saint Genesius.”
“A silent husband,” Eloise said, with a sly nod. “I like it.”
“Grand,” Matthew quipped, grinning. “I haven’t a chance now of ever getting a word in, have I?”
“None,” his betrothed answered brightly.
“Eloise,” Lady Aldriss called from the table she shared with Aden, Miranda, and Miranda and Matthew’s parents. “A moment, if you please.”
Obediently, Eloise and Matthew rose, and after a word with the countess, they ended up taking seats with Matthew’s aunt and her three bairns.
“Did ye see that?” Coll grunted. “She didnae want Eloise landing on our side of an argument.”
“I can’t blame her,” Temperance whispered. “I shouldn’t have let you talk me into coming. Then you might have had a happy family reunion.”
“Nae, because it would have been all of them against me. With ye by my side, I reckon my odds are much improved.”
“Yes, I can fling Shakespearean quotes about with great abandon.”
His mouth quirked. “And ye wield sarcasm like a sword. Dunnae forget that. Ye’ve nearly decapitated me more than once.”
“Never. The world would be a poorer place without your handsome face in it.”
For God’s sake, he adored her. “Aden used to say the only difference between me and me without a head would be my height.”
She laughed. “That’s horrible,” she said, covering her mouth with one hand before she gave up, still chortling.
“Aye, the two of ye would get along, nae doubt about that,” Coll snorted.
“It would be lovely to have the opportunity to try,” she said, her smile softening. “But please don’t ruin what you have with them. With your family. You clearly all adore each other. Don’t lose that for my sake. I would never forgive myself.”
“What happens between my family and me is up to them. They know where I stand.” He didn’t want to see that relationship hurt, either; every lesson he’d learned over the years had been about the importance of family, and every brawl he’d ever fought had been done with the knowledge that at least two other people in the world would stand with him.
If today and from now on he stood alone, it would change some things—drastically. But he wasn’t standing up to be left alone. He was standing up to be with Temperance. Even if they would only know her as Persephone.
“Coll, that’s not a way to begin an argument.”
“It’s only an argument if they decide they dunnae agree with me.” He bit into his third sandwich. “Look at ’em over there, trying to decide if I can be pushed somewhere I dunnae choose to go.”
As he spoke, Wallace, one of the pipers they’d brought with them down from the Highlands—and more importantly, one of the lads he’d left to watch Temperance’s house—ran into the garden, found him, and skidded to a halt beside the table.
“M’laird, it’s on fire.”
Coll shoved to his feet. “What’s on fire?”
“The house. We were watching the front and back, but then Charles saw smoke and yelled for me, and by the time I got back around the front, the whole first floor was catching. I—”
“My house?” Temperance gasped. “Flora? And Gregory?”
“I dunnae, m’lady. I came here as soon as—”
“Ye stay here,” Coll ordered Temperance. “Smythe! She doesnae leave yer sight!”
At the butler’s curt nod, and ignoring the demand for information coming from his family, Coll tore through the house and onto the front drive, where he swung into the saddle of the gelding Wallace had ridden. Kicking it in the ribs, he took off at a gallop up Grosvenor and east toward St. John’s Wood.
If someone had been watching her house, they would know she wasn’t there. Was this an attempt to draw her out? To have her return in a panic for a waiting gunman? Or had the arsonist missed her departure, and this had been yet another attempt on her life?
Cursing, he cut between a phaeton and a furniture wagon and continued north and east. The gray gelding didn’t have Nuckelavee’s speed or stamina, but despite the noise and traffic, it kept its ears back and kept running. Coll could see the smoke rising as he turned up Charlbert Street and onto Charles Lane. Lines of residents stretched between local wells and the house, buckets passing back and forth.
The upper floor of the house had begun to burn, while the ground floor looked ready to disintegrate into ash at any moment. Still swearing, he jumped down from the horse. “Flora!” he bellowed. “Gregory!”
“Here, my lord!” Gregory, coatless and with his white shirt turned nearly black with soot, limped forward. “It just started burning,” he lamented, tears flowing from his eyes, either from the smoke or from the loss.
“Where’s Flora?”
“She’s in the shade over there,” the footman said, pointing to where a cluster of women had gathered, one of them fanning the air with an apron. “We couldn’t find Hades. That damned cat—oh, heavens. Persie will be heartbroken.”
Coll looked up toward the master bedchamber’s front windows. Pulling off his coat, he handed it to the footman. “Stay back from this,” he ordered, and jumped to grab the lower eave in his hands.
From there, he levered himself onto the roof and scrambled around the open, smoldering bits to the windows. They were closed. He pulled off his cravat, wrapped it around one hand, made a fist, turned his face away, and punched.
Glass shattered around him. Clearing it away with his elbow, he hopped into the room. “Hades,” he called, noting that the bedchamber door stood open. Smoke wafted through the room, pouring out of the opening he’d just made.
“Hades. Come here, boy.” Lowering himself onto his stomach, he peered beneath the bed. A pair of reflective green eyes looked back at him. “There ye are. I thought so.”
The floor beneath him felt hot. Another minute or two, and the entire house would be on fire. Edging forward, he extended his wrapped hand. The cat swatted at it, hissing, and backed against the wall until it couldn’t retreat any further.
Coll took a breath, waiting for the cat to extend a paw again, then shot his hand forward to grab it by the back of the neck.
Rolling onto his feet, he took another glance at the door. Flames curled up along the doorframe. They wouldn’t be leaving that way. With the black cat a coiled ball of claws and teeth and tail, he wouldn’t have much luck climbing down outside, either.
He could toss Hades down and the cat would likely land on his feet, but then he would flee, and they’d never set eyes on him again. Clenching his jaw, Coll turned the beastie to face him. “We’re getting down now. I’m saving ye, damn it all, so dunnae kill me.”
With one hand, he freed the bedsheet from beneath the quilted bedspread. Moving as swiftly as he could, he bundled up the cat and his hand and arm, all the way to the elbow. Then he let go of Hades and yanked his arm free, closing the opening with both hands.
With the sheet writhing in front of him, he knotted it, making a sling that he could put around his head and one arm. Claws poked at him, and the beastie hissed like the devil himself, but it would have to do.
Ducking back outside, he took a trio of steps before his left foot went through the roof. Heat licked at him as he caught himself with his hands and freed his shoe again. He’d picked one hell of a time to wear proper shoes rather than sturdy boots.
“Coll!”
He looked down to see Niall on the ground, along with Gavin, Wallace, and a half dozen other men from Aldriss Park and Oswell House riding up to join him. Unslinging the sheet, he held it up. “Catch the cat!”
With as gentle a toss as he could, he sent Hades over the edge of the roof, toward the ground. Niall caught the bundle in his arms, then yelped as claws caught him. Once he’d set the squirming sheet down and taken a step backward, he nodded. “Get down here!”
With fire licking up over the edge of the roof and pouring up through the growing holes around him, it looked as if he wouldn’t be escaping with any more dignity than Hades had. The shingle sagged beneath him.
Taking a breath, he pushed away and jumped.
He hit the ground hard with his right shoulder and rolled, just as the second floor collapsed into the first with a thunderous, spitting roar.
All of Temperance’s work—six years of her life—lost. No. Taken from her.
“That was too damned close,” Niall said, offering him a hand.
Taking it, Coll climbed to his feet. “I couldnae save anything for her.”
“Ye saved her cat. And ye’re nae dead, which I reckon is a good thing.”
Coll gazed at the burning wreckage. She rented the place, he knew, but that didn’t make the loss of all her belongings any less. “It’s nae enough,” he muttered. “I had two lads here, watching, and someone still managed to burn it down.”
“M’laird,” panted Charles Pitiloch, Clan Ross piper, coming forward. “I reckon ye need to sack me. I heard someaught around the side of the house, and I went for a look. When I came back, the front window was open and the sitting room was on fire.”
Swallowing his own anger and frustration, Coll clapped a hand on the smaller man’s shoulder. “The lot of ye keeping watch forced ’em to wait until the lass was away,” he said, though he wasn’t certain that was true. “Ye did all I could expect of ye.”
“It doesnae feel that way,” Charles said grimly. “I dunnae like getting outfoxed.”
“I dunnae either.” Releasing his grip, Coll walked over and gingerly picked up the bedsheet. “Find me a basket with a lid, will ye? I reckon Hades will be through this cloth in less than a minute.”
“Aye, m’laird.” With a swift nod, the ginger-haired piper trotted off toward the gaggle of neighbors.
“Someone is trying to kill that lass, then,” Niall said, lowering his voice. “I thought mayhap ye’d made that bit up.”
“I wish I had.” Coll turned his gaze from the burning house. “Thank ye for coming.”
Niall shrugged. “Nae MacTaggert stands alone, whether ye’ve lost yer mind or nae.”
“I may see fit to remind ye of that soon.”
“She’s a lass in danger, Coll, and ye’re a man who likes to fight. Ye were bound to like her. But ye do recollect that she’s an actress. Are ye certain all this is real? Might she have had her own house burned, so she’d have nae a place to go and only ye to help her?”
If he hadn’t known what he did about Temperance Hartwood, it did almost seem like the plot of some play in which Persephone Jones would play the damsel. But he did know who she was and how she’d come to live in that wee, quaint house outside of Mayfair, and why she never went riding in Hyde Park and wore a different-colored wig every day.
Of course, he couldn’t disclose any of that to Niall or the rest of his family, but in the end, it didn’t matter. “She didnae have a thing to do with this. I’ll swear that on a Bible.”
Niall took a breath and let it out again. “Then what are ye going to do with her? She’s pretty enough and has a manner that doesnae seem any different to me than any aristocratic lass in Mayfair, but she’s nae that English ‘lady’ ye’re to wed. Amy says she’ll nae be invited anywhere proper, or be asked to stand for any charity or church. Do ye reckon ye’ll be enough for her?”
“I wouldnae be if she was after me for my title,” Coll returned, working to keep his voice level. These were the same questions the rest of the family would ask, and Niall was likely being more delicate about it than others would be. “I’m more worried that she’ll nae leave the stage long enough for me to show her Scotland.”
Niall snorted. “If ye wanted to find a way to put Francesca on her deathbed, telling her ye want to marry an actress who willnae leave the stage after ye wed her would likely do it.”
A great deal of the facts they knew about Persephone Jones weren’t true. That one, though, troubled him even more than the coming brawl with the MacTaggerts, because she loved acting, and he couldn’t imagine her giving it up voluntarily. He had no idea if the pull of the stage would be stronger than him and his responsibilities in the Highlands.