Chapter 30
Logan finished dressing, a circumstance made unusual by Mairi’s interested observation. He’d never dressed in front of anyone before, at least as an adult. The circumstance was oddly companionable, almost domestic.
When he was done, he presented himself to her. She nodded in approval, stood and kissed him.
Long minutes later she pulled back, shaking her head, her lips curved in a smile. “It’s best if you don’t touch me, I think. Stay over there,” she added, pointing to the other side of the room.
He smiled at her, holding his hands up.
“Thank you,” she said. “For coming with me to the paper. I would appreciate your companionship.”
“Sometimes, a difficult chore can be shared,” he said, wanting to take away the sadness in her eyes.
He’d never before felt hurt because of someone else’s pain. To be around Mairi was to teach him not only about her but himself.
Love was a curious emotion, one that was unexpected and startling. He wanted to do things for her, take away those tasks that disturbed her, make the world an easier place. He wanted to shield her, or if he couldn’t do that, extend his arms around her and support her when she was afraid or uncertain. Above all, he wanted her to know she was not alone.
Did she feel the same?
Another thing he learned—he was capable of being a coward.
He stood toe-to-toe with any number of argumentative individuals. He fought back when people tried to intimidate him. Yet he was curiously loath to ask Mairi what she felt for him.
Sometimes it was necessary to simply follow a course without a compass. When the time came, a man must do what he thought was right. He was going to ask her to be his wife, because as unplanned, ill-timed, and inconvenient it was, he’d fallen in love and he wanted her in his life. Now, tonight, tomorrow, and for a future stretching out as far as he could see.
If she refused him, he’d simply plead his case. If she rejected him, he’d merely convince her.
He wanted to know what she thought. He wanted to share his ideas with her. He wanted to ask her opinion and give her his. He wanted, in a way he’d never once considered with another woman, to combine their lives to form a partnership.
He went to get his case, because he’d go straight from the paper to his office. He was going to be late, a rarity for him. Thomas would have to cope with this change and others he was about to implement.
“Will you be leaving again?” he asked. A question uttered in an offhand manner. Would she realize how important the answer was to him?
Running for Parliament was not as important as his personal life, a decision that had been festering for a matter of weeks. Ever since meeting a certain firebrand with flashing blue eyes who occupied most of his thoughts.
He glanced over at her, curious why she hadn’t answered and about to lay the verbal groundwork so she wouldn’t suddenly be surprised by his declaration. He didn’t get the chance. She moaned, then pressed her hand against her mouth.
“What is it?” he asked.
“There’s a carriage parking in front of your house,” she said. “I’m afraid you’re about to be visited by my family.”
He walked to the window and watched as James wound the reins around the brake, then descended from the driver’s seat. The carriage door opened and Allan emerged, followed by an older gentleman Logan didn’t know. Fenella was next and then Ellice, the girl he’d met at Drumvagen.
“Dear God,” she said, “what are we going to do?”
“Go down and meet them,” he said, realizing that his chance had come and gone. What he’d wanted to do on his own time had suddenly been foisted on him. “Appear before them in our virtue and our vice. Let them harangue us. There’s nothing more we can do.”
“You don’t look the least upset,” she said, her voice filled with panic.
“Why should I be upset?”
“Because they’re all there,” she said. “All of them. I’ll never be able to look any of them in the face again.”
He didn’t bother hiding his smile. “I’m afraid my servants will be like your family. No doubt they’re tittering behind their hands now and will be whenever they see me in the future.”
He could, perhaps, dismiss all of them as of today and start anew with a fresh crop. But he had an affinity for Rutherford and felt a genuine fondness for Mrs. Landers.
It wasn’t their fault he’d been an idiot. Not by bringing Mairi home or by loving her, but in not seeing her back to her house in time to prevent her family from descending on them.
But it wasn’t the catastrophe Mairi thought. In fact, the circumstances might prove to be very advantageous indeed.
When the knock came, he answered the door.
Mrs. Lander’s mouth was open in an O of surprise.
Had she thought he’d ignore the knock? Or had she expected him to be attired in his bedclothes? He wasn’t going to tell her he preferred to sleep naked. Or was she, perhaps, not expecting to see Mairi standing by the window, both hands pressed against the glass as if she would bodily stop the repercussions they were about to experience?
The devil, as they say, was about to be paid his due.
“We have guests,” he said to Mrs. Landers.
She nodded.
“Offer them breakfast. If not that, definitely tea and coffee. Tell them we’ll be down shortly.”
“Yes, sir,” she said with only a quick backward glance at Mairi.
“Shall we go?” he asked, turning to Mairi.
She nodded, her face pale, her lips nearly bloodless. Surprise or horror had rendered Mairi Sinclair mute.
“What do you mean she’s not here?” Macrath asked.
Abigail’s eyes were wide, her face as white as the snow that blanketed Edinburgh this morning.
“Sir, Miss Sinclair is not here.”
“Tell Robert I’m here, then,” he said, entering the house and putting his hat and gloves on the chest in the foyer.
The maid stepped back, wringing her hands.
“Oh, sir, he’s not here, either.”
What was going on?
He’d left Drumvagen at dawn, the journey cold and taking longer than normal because of the snowfall. He was in no mood to be greeted with a mystery.
“Fenella?” he asked. “Ellice?”
She shook her head.
“Nobody’s here, sir. Nobody but Cook, the other maids, and me.”
“Where is everyone?”
Her eyes darted from the left to the right and back again, lighting on anything but him.
“Where is everyone?” he asked once more.
Virginia said he frightened people sometimes with his look, so he deliberately softened his voice and pasted a smile on his lips.
“I can’t say, sir. Don’t make me.”
The maid stared down at the floor, her complexion turning rosy. If he frightened her, he was sorry for it, but he had to know what was going on.
“Tell me and quickly.”
“There’s been a fire, sir. A grievous thing, truly. The Gazette has burned down. I’m not the one who should be telling you, Mr. Sinclair, seeing as how you’re the owner and all.”
It took a moment for the words to register.
“Mairi? She’s all right?”
She nodded hurriedly. “Everyone is fine, sir, although James looks a little worse for wear, and Allan has a slight burn on his cheek.”
“Is that where everyone is? At the paper?”
She shook her head. “No, sir, they’ve gone off to prevent another tragedy.”
He grabbed his hat, began to button his coat, and picked up his gloves. Evidently, his journey wasn’t finished.
“Where are they?” he said, striving for patience and failing miserably.
She grabbed her apron, twisting it in her hands.
Then she told him the whole of it.
In a matter of minutes Macrath’s carriage was outside the Lord Provost’s home, parked behind the one he’d purchased for Mairi a few years earlier.
Taking a moment to appreciate the brick edifice belonging to Harrison, he tried to collect himself.
He hadn’t heard anything damaging about the man. On the contrary, the whole of Edinburgh seemed to love him. Other than Mairi’s broadside, he was never lampooned in any of the papers, and he was generally well thought of, not an occurrence that happened often in the political arena.
When Logan visited Drumvagen he’d found himself liking the man. The provost’s political instincts were astute, and he was intelligent as well as ambitious. Plus, there was a light in his eyes when he looked at Mairi that reminded Macrath of what he felt for Virginia.
If Mairi’s feelings for the provost were the same, he would suggest an alternative to scandal. If she was just engaging in lust for the sake of being shocking, that was another matter entirely.
He dismounted from the carriage, calmed himself, and climbed the steps. He could hear the commotion inside before using the knocker.
A scant second before the door opened he considered turning around and heading back to the carriage, letting Mairi sort out her own life. But the door was opened by a white-haired man who squinted fiercely at him.
“And who might you be?”
“Are they all here?” Macrath asked, staring beyond him.
“You’re one of them?”
“I am, for good or ill.”
He couldn’t see anyone, but he could certainly hear them. Fenella, Ellice, and above all the female voices, Mairi. Another booming voice rang out, one he recognized as Harrison’s. Did he really want to enter the fray?
Unfortunately, he had no other choice.
The meeting in Logan’s parlor was all very civilized, painfully so.
After the initial shouting, everyone settled down. Voices were no longer raised. Instead, they all stared at each other as if waiting for explanations. Mairi wanted to know why they’d descended on Logan’s home. Her family evidently wanted to know why she was still here.
The situation was exacerbated when the majordomo announced yet another visitor.
Seeing Macrath enter the room, she clutched a pillow from the settee to her stomach and sat abruptly.
He nodded to her and that was all the greeting she got. He raised his hand, lowering it slowly, a silent command that each member of her family oddly obeyed. They took their places around the room, some on the settee next to her, some on the adjoining brown velvet chairs.
Mrs. Landers provided refreshments, as if this was a convivial occasion and all of them had been expected to arrive barely after dawn. Logan’s majordomo, on the other hand, wore the same expression as Robert, as if he smelled something particularly fetid and was prevented only by good manners from commenting on it.
No doubt both of them would be commenting before the morning was over.
Fenella poured tea while Ellice offered the biscuits provided by Mrs. Landers. Even though both Allan and James frowned at her, they each took their share. Robert just sat in a chair and scowled.
Macrath and Logan nodded to each other. At Drumvagen they’d spoken at length about politics, Macrath’s inventions, and the future of Edinburgh. This meeting was necessarily strained. Her brother was protective to a fault and wouldn’t care if Logan was the Lord Provost or the Lord Dog Catcher.
Logan no doubt felt challenged by the arrival of her entire household.
Each man waved off food and beverages. Nor could she eat anything with her stomach in knots. Besides, this was most definitely not a social situation.
“My sister has been here all night?” Macrath asked pleasantly.
Logan nodded, glanced at her, then focused his attention on Macrath.
“And not the first time, either,” Macrath added.
She looked at her brother. He wasn’t being tactful, a hint that he wasn’t feeling as amenable as he appeared.
She closed her eyes, stifling a moan.
Macrath had a temper that he kept banked. This situation, however, might compel him to forget the restraint he normally practiced.
She certainly didn’t want him to strike Logan, but what he did next was even worse.
“I think we both know what needs to be done,” Macrath said. “The honorable thing, of course.”
Logan nodded, just once, acceptance without a word spoken.
He couldn’t be serious.
“No. Macrath,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re not going to make an honorable woman out of me, not if it means being forced into marriage. I’ve never heard of something as barbaric.”
“Barbaric?” he asked.
“It’s ridiculous to have to marry simply because my family found me in flagrante delicto, as it were.”
“You’re supposed to report the news, Mairi,” her brother said. “Not be the news.”
Fenella and Ellice each looked transfixed, while Allan and James pretended an interest in the scenery from the front window. Robert’s curled lip and narrowed eyes revealed his disgust of the proceedings. She didn’t know if the older man was more revolted by her remaining at Logan’s home all night or her refusal to consider herself compromised.
“You don’t know, Macrath, but there was a fire. There is no more Gazette.”
Macrath came to stand in front of her. “I know, Mairi. You can build again if you want to.”
She shook her head. “Not if I were married,” she said. “Not if my first duty was to be a wife.”
“Do I have any say in this?” Logan asked.
Macrath glanced over his shoulder. “Of course,” he said.
“I’d like to talk to Mairi. In private.”
“Fine, talk to her. I wish you well.”
Macrath motioned to the rest of them, and one by one they left the room. No doubt they would congregate in the hall listening.
“You aren’t leaving me alone with him?” Mairi asked.
“I believe the entire situation is because you were alone with him, Mairi. Of your own accord.”
She sighed.
Once Macrath and the others had left the room, she turned to Logan. “You needn’t sacrifice yourself, Logan. My family will eventually forget about this.”
“Will they?”
She nodded.
He smiled before walking away and serving himself coffee and a scone. How very polite they were being. She wanted to shout or scream or stomp her feet to express her frustration and embarrassment.
Every single member of her household knew what she’d been doing the night before. Allan, who before today had been her loyal employee, was a future member of her family. Somehow, having him witness this debacle was even more humiliating.
Logan didn’t speak, seemingly content to watch her as he sat on the opposite chair, arranging his cup and plate on the table beside him.
She’d never known anyone who could be as calm while inciting violence in others. Very well, violence in her. She wanted to pummel the man. Or kick him in the shins. Or trip him as he walked. At the same time, she wanted to kiss him senseless and wrap her arms around his neck as they went through the rest of their lives.
If she married him, her life would never be peaceful again.
How could he throw her into such a state so easily? How could he run riot over her emotions? How could he do this to her by not saying a word?
“It’s an idiotic notion,” she said.
He bent one eyebrow at her and continued chewing.
“I’m not sure I even like you. How can I contemplate living with you the rest of my life?”
He took a sip of his coffee, then placed the cup back on the table.
“I think you like me,” he said, his lips curving. “I think you proved that last night.”
Her cheeks warmed.
“Nevertheless, this is not a grand scandal,” she said. “No one knows but the people in this house. There’s no need for heroic gestures to save me. I’m perfectly able to save myself.”
“Then your answer is no?”
“Most emphatically no.”
How dare he sit there looking at her with his beautiful green eyes, stirring his coffee so silently that she couldn’t even hear the clink of the spoon against the cup. There was no sound in the room at all. Even his breathing seemed muted.
It should be storming. Thunder should be bellowing from cloud to cloud. Lightning should spear the earth. Instead, it was a snowy December morning and she was absolutely terrified. Perhaps she could blame her trembles on the cold, even though this room was warm from the blazing fire.
“I wouldn’t be a good political wife, Logan,” she said. “I’m not at all retiring. I’m not conformable.” Her laughter held an edge. “I am most definitely not conformable. I want to know the answer to things. I may even invade the council meeting and report on what’s happening in Edinburgh.”
What was he thinking? Why wouldn’t he look at her?
Part of her wanted him to rage at her, try to change her mind. She suddenly realized, watching him, that he would do no such thing.
Logan would never attempt to manipulate her. If she went to him it would be of her own accord. He wouldn’t try to convince her; she would have to be certain of her own mind.
Was she that brave?
Her body thrummed at his touch. He drove her to tears. She wanted to laugh with him and sob against his chest, all violent expressions of emotion that didn’t seem to be love.
Love shouldn’t be turbulent or troubling.
Words were her stock in trade. At the moment, however, they were diamonds glittering in a field of glass. She couldn’t find the right ones.
Standing, she walked to the window. This view was of his garden, no doubt a lovely place in the spring.
“You only want to protect me with marriage,” she finally said. “It’s not necessary. No one, if they ever hear of this morning, would ever think ill of you, so scandal isn’t a consideration.”
“For an intelligent woman you’re remarkably stupid.”
She glanced over her shoulder at him.
He was angry. Angrier than she’d ever seen him. He was very calm, very reasoned, but his eyes were flashing fire and his smile was tight.
He held his cup with a white knuckled hand.
Who was he to be enraged? She was the one who’d been trotted out like a mare ready to be mounted.
“I think you’d better tell Macrath that there will be no marriage,” she said. “That way, he’ll know it for certain.”
She was determined to be polite and calm. Every second that passed was even more difficult to hold onto that resolve.
“Are you saying your brother doesn’t trust your word?”
“That’s not what I’m saying at all,” she said, feeling her temper slip a little. “Only that if you tell him, he’ll understand that it isn’t just my idea. He’ll know we both feel the same.”
“But we don’t,” he said, taking a sip from his cup.
How dare he throw her into confusion with three simple words?
“You didn’t suggest marriage, Logan. My brother did.”
“Is that what concerns you? Fine. We’ll wait an hour or two, send them home, then I’ll sweep you up in a romantic embrace and propose marriage.”
“The reason would be the same.”
“Would it?” he asked. He smiled, an expression that was polite but not the least whit intimate.
She folded her arms, staring down at the carpet.
“You’d better tell your brother,” he said. “Because if I speak to him, he’ll know the truth.”
“And what is that? That you’re determined to do the right thing? You’re much too honorable for this situation.”
“No, I fall under the category of fool,” he said, still speaking in an even tone. “For falling in love with a woman too stupid to recognize that fact.”
He left the room before she could rally, before she could think of a thing to say. She stared at the closed door, hearing his voice. Still even, still polite, still capable of stirring her to the core.
He loved her?
Why had he suddenly declared himself now?
And why did she suddenly want to cry?