Page 91 of Sinful Scottish Laird
Daisy was a good steward of Ellis’s fortune, and she had been for several years now. She didn’t need a man to do that for her.
“Both men have excellent connections, which will benefit Lord Chatwick in the years to come. Now then, to the matter of formally making their acquaintance. I shall bring them around to meet you and Lord Chatwick. Naturally, I will be on hand to help assess your compatibility. I shall send a messenger with the details. Are we clear?”
“I am clear on everything you’ve said,” Daisy said sweetly. “Thank you, my lord.”
“Very good.” He seemed to think his work was done. He glanced at his two assistants and signaled them to go out.
“Good day, Lady Chatwick,” the bishop said.
“Good day, my lord.”
He followed his assistants, but Daisy caught him before he could quit the room. “Pardon, my lord, if I may?”
The bishop glanced back, impatient now. He was done with this bit of business and eager to be on to the next soul he might direct and control.
Daisy took a step forward. “If I am not mistaken, my husband’s will does not specify that you must approve or otherwise assess compatibility with any gentleman from whom I might entertain an offer... Does it?”
The bishop stared at her.
Daisy lifted her chin. “His wish was that you help me find a match. But he did not ask you to make it for me.”
The bishop slowly turned about and walked back to where she stood. He was scarcely taller than she was, but it felt as if he were towering over her now, his disapproval coming off him in waves. “You have an audacity that is unbecoming, madam. You know as well as I that your husband’s wish was that I find a suitable steward for you and your son.”
“It was his wish that you help me,” she said. “I am a grown woman. I am capable of deciding for myself.”
His expression darkened. “Do you find my selections for you objectionable? Do you not find them clearly superior to anyyouhave entertained?”
Daisy lifted her chin. “I find the entire conversation objectionable.”
The bishop’s expression turned angry. He shifted closer, forcing her to lean back. “You may find it objectionable, Lady Chatwick, but you must agree that the will specifically states you will marry by year’s end or forfeit Lord Chatwick’s inheritance. You have enjoyed yourfreedom,” he said, nearly spitting the word at her. “You have played the part of the merry widow quite well. Now is time to think of someone other than yourself and marry. And unless you have someone in mind who exceeds the qualities of the two men I have presented to you, I suggest you cease pretending outrage and indifference and get on with the business of raising your son properly.”
He didn’t allow her a response; he whirled around and marched from the room. She heard him barking orders to his two assistants, then the front door slam behind him as he went.
She did have someone else in mind.A gentleman. A soldier. A hunter and woodsman, a lover and... Her skin flushed.
She whirled around, looking for something, anything. Seeing the empty glass of whisky, she picked it up and hurled it with all her might into the hearth. The glass shattered against the stone. And then she shattered, sinking down onto her knees, her head bowed, reality bleeding into her, making her ache.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CAILEANSTOODOUTSIDEthe house on Audley Street in a new set of clothing, properly tailored, prepared to present himself to Daisy. Since he’d settled in London and moved into Uncle Knox’s town house, he’d been to Chatwick House once. He had seen only servants coming and going on daily errands, and callers, dressed in fine clothing and elaborate wigs, going into the house and coming out again. Now he strode down the street with determination, but before he could reach the door, a carriage pulled up outside Chatwick House. Out of it emerged four men, three of them wearing the cloth of a church and one of them in a periwig, a silk coat and breeches, with lace dripping out of each sleeve.
Cailean’s step slowed. He looked quite plain in comparison to the gentleman. He jogged up the steps with the church men, one of whom Cailean realized must be the bishop. They knocked, then quickly disappeared inside.
Cailean was suddenly struck with uncertainty. He began to question himself. She’d probably settled on a match. Of course she had—she’d been in London for what he guessed was about three weeks now. She’d probably posted the bloody banns. He was a fool to think he could come out of the Highlands and offer marriage to an English viscountess.
Cailean felt a wee bit dejected as he returned to the Grovesnor Square, from which he could see the house. He took up residence on a bench there, leaning to his left now and again to view her house, debating what he ought to do now.
He was distracted by a wee lass in the square with her nursemaid, her arms spread wide, twirling around and around while her nursemaid warned her she would make herself ill. He smiled to himself and glanced back to Chatwick House—and his heart skipped a few beats. Miss Hainsworth and Ellis were walking. They turned away from him at the corner of Audley Street and the square and walked briskly on. Ellis had to skip to keep up with Miss Hainsworth.
Cailean surged to his feet and hastened after them, darting around people and carts and horses, almost losing sight of them when they turned onto another street. When he caught up to them, he saw the street led them to Hyde Park.
Cailean walked faster.
He was familiar with the park, having spent some time there as a young man, and he walked as quickly he could without seeming to run with the hope of intercepting them. He managed it, emerging on the path before them, quite breathless. He removed his hat.
Miss Hainsworth didn’t notice him at first, but the lad saw him instantly. “Cailean!” he shouted, breaking away from his cousin’s grip and running for him.
Cailean squatted down to catch him, hugging him tightly, astonished at how happy he was made by the sight of the lad. He kissed his cheek, set him back. “Aye, there you are, then, the Lord Chatwick on his daily walk.”
