Chapter Eighteen

Crystal and Hilda walked into Brewster’s Tavern, an establishment visited by both lords and commoners, for it had a reputation for good food and drink.

A sudden prickle of anxiety spiked her back, and she looked behind her as she passed the bar. Leaning against the counter was a large man, his tam o’ shanter bonnet pulled low over his domed forehead. His tartan mantel was wrapped over his shoulder, and he had on a matching kilt. He stared straight at her from under his bonnet, and her stomach turned. She knew those watery blue eyes. She had an almost preternatural sensation of trouble. Why was Laird Angus Stuart here?

“My lady?” Ailish’s mother beckoned her with an urgent wave of her hand. “This way.”

Crystal and Hilda were led to a back room, where three men were seated. They stood and introduced themselves as delegates. The leader, Mr. McDonald, gave her a stiff bow, as did Mr. Winters and Mr. Dowding.

“Lady Crystal, I’m pleased to meet you. Would you like a seat and a drink?” Mr. McDonald asked politely.

She sat, and Hilda stood scowling near the door, which was now closed.

“I’m sorry, I can only stay for a short time, as I have another meeting soon. I dinnae have time for pleasantries, but if you wish to discuss your business, I’d be happy to hear it.”

“As you wish. Ailish’s mother has told us you are teaching the lassies. I was wondering if you’d thought to expand your lessons. We have many who would benefit. Times are changing in weaving, wages falling. The workers all have need of more learning.”

A wave of relief went through her. “Word travels fast. I’ve only just started, but I do hope to continue teaching in the mills where the owners will permit it. Lord Lyle is my benefactor, and I will need to ask him if he will fund more learning if I am to expand. He covers the shilling a day the lasses earn, for their parents willnae release them otherwise.”

“Why is a marquis like Lyle helping the likes of us?” Mr. Dowding asked, his dark eyes glinting.

“Lord Lyle and his father, the Duke of Lomond, support many causes. Mine is but a small part of their charity,” she said.

“Lady Crystal, I attended the speech you gave earlier this week at the weavers guild, and you’re very inspiring,” Mr. Winters said.

She smiled, and her heart warmed to these working men. “I hadn’t thought many would be interested in hearing my views on educating women, but there seems to be great interest. I hope that in the near future I will have enough teachers to expand my endeavor to other mills.” She rose to her feet. “I’m sorry I’m not able to talk longer, but I have to go now.”

“Please let Ailish’s mother know when you are able to teach more lassies,” Mr. Winters said. The men stood and tipped their caps, thanking her.

“You handled yerself right well in there, my lady.” Hilda’s expression was thankful when they left the private room and were greeted with the scent of woodsmoke, ale, and food.

“Aye, but I’ll be more careful about who and what I agree to in the future. Lord Lyle has urged me to have a care, and he’s right. I’ll not be meeting any more delegates. I’m certain there is more going on than meets the eye. I cannae afford to get involved in anything that will compromise my teaching.”

She made her way toward the front door with Hilda walking just behind her.

Suddenly, Laird Angus Stuart planted himself in her way. “A word with you,” he demanded, looming above her.

“Stand aside. I have no desire to speak to you.” She made sure her voice was loud and clear, though unease made her throat tighten. The buzz in the tavern quieted, and people turned to stare.

“What did those men want of you?” Laird Angus asked.

“Get out of my way immediately,” she said. “You have no right to interrogate me.”

“My lady!” Hilda said, her voice rising in fear. The maid spun around. “Someone help my lady. Help! Help! This man is accosting her. She’s done naught wrong.”

“You’ll answer me whether you like it or not. You’re a hoor and a subversive. I’ve heard you speaking about unseemly matters.” Laird Angus grabbed Crystal by the arm and dragged her toward the door.

“’Ere, wot’re yer doing to the lady?” someone yelled, and a buzz of alarm went around the tavern.

Before he could reach it, the tavern door opened, and Aaron stood in front of her like an avenging angel. She’d never been so glad to see anyone in her life.

“Unhand the lady,” he commanded Stuart.

“She’s been meeting with known troublemakers,” Laird Angus said.

“We were discussing teaching young female weavers to read,” she cried in outrage, trying to pull away from him.

“Let. Her. Go.” Aaron’s teeth were bared, and his eyes blazed. His normally fair skin had darkened, and his fists were bunched.

“Here, have yer hoor, but I’ll be reporting her behavior to the prince himself.”

“How dare you besmirch the lady’s honor?” His eyes blazed hot with fury.

Stuart shoved her at him so hard she stumbled.

Aaron caught her and righted her onto her feet. “Lady Crystal, take your maid and go outside to my carriage. You’ll be safe there.”

The tavern’s occupants fled their tables to get away from the angry lords. She moved past them with Hilda by her side, then heard a bone-crunching sound.

She turned at the doorway to see the Stuart lord fly backward into the tavern, his nose flattened and blood streaming down his front. He landed flat on his back on the hard floor. He groaned and staggered to his feet, shaking his head from side to side. He wobbled on his feet, lifted his chin, focused on Aaron, and charged.

Crystal grabbed Hilda, watching spellbound, unable to pull herself away.

Aaron stood ready with his fists, but the bartender and several workers grabbed Stuart first. He shook several off as if they were fleas on a hound, but a large tavern worker hit him over the head with a heavy ale jug, knocking him back to the floor.

“He’s been felled like a tree,” Hilda said triumphantly.

“Poor Lord Lyle must have near broken his hand,” Crystal murmured.

“I think the Stuart’s head is made of rock,” Hilda said.

“Move aside,” Aaron told the crowd that had gathered around his fallen foe.

The tavern workers scrambled away.

Aaron put his boot on the Stuart’s back, grabbed him by the hair, and yanked up his head. “You insulted the lady, the daughter of Earl Wilding. She has done naught but teach the poor.”

“And a good lady she is,” Mr. McDonald shouted from the back of the room.

Everyone nodded and cheered, and it gave Crystal enormous satisfaction to hear the noise reaching the rafters. She smiled at them from the doorway. The people’s support had buoyed her spirits.

She now had a clear purpose in the city she called home.

“I will have satisfaction,” Aaron called out.

“Oh dear. Lord Lyle means to call him out,” Crystal said to Hilda, gripping her maid’s arm.

“Aye, and if he kills the fool, he will be arrested,” Hilda muttered.

Crystal’s head spun with the horror of it. A punch, she had no issue with. But a duel?

“Lord Lyle. No!”

Aristocrats and commoners beat their tankards on the wooden tables and stamped their feet. “Have yer satisfaction,” yelled someone.

“Blow his head off,” yelled another.

“I’ll no’ duel with you, you Hanoverian ass-licker,” Stuart said, spitting blood on the tiles.

Aaron stepped back, dusting his hands together. “Coward! I’ll see you gone from your position. You’ll serve the king no longer. Run now, like your Stuart king did before you.” He turned to the tavern keeper. “Throw him outside. I’ll deal with him there. I’ll teach him not to insult a lady.”

“Aye, my lord, I want no troublemakers ’ere,” the tavern keeper said. “You’ll not enter this fine establishment again,” he told Stuart.

Crystal left her position near the doorway and raced over to the carriage with Hilda in tow.

Stuart roared with fury and struggled against the two burly men who ejected him from the tavern, one booting him in the backside so he fell onto the footpath.

Aaron marched out onto the street and, on locking eyes with her, strode toward her. “What are you still doing out here?”

“I’d not miss this for the world. You called him out because of me.” A wave of exhilaration raced through her at the knowledge that he must have strong feelings for her if he’d risk his life for her.

He opened the carriage door. “Into the carriage with you, my lady. You, too, Hilda. Jenson, drive them home while I deal with this ass.”

The carriage took off with a lurch, and she pressed her face against the window. The last thing she saw was Aaron standing over the Stuart lord, a dirk in his hand. Oh dear lord, would he kill him?