Page 90 of Sinful Scottish Laird
“Your husband was quite right in setting his terms. He clearly understood that your judgment could not be depended upon to see his lordship safely to his majority.”
Would God forgive her if she put her hands around the man’s throat and squeezed the stuffing from him?
“Captain Spivey has informed me of his intention to offer for you. He has also told me of your unseemly admiration of a Scot smuggler, Lady Chatwick.” His bushy gray brows furrowed over his nose. “It is beyond my comprehension that you might have subjected your son to such a despicable being. Have you no care for him?”
She wished someone were here to keep her from launching her body at this man. She imagined tackling him to the ground and pummeling his face. As it was, she had to step away from him and clutch her hands together. “Of course I care for him, my lord, just as I always have. Captain Spivey has had quite a lot to say,” she said, fighting to keep her anger from showing itself in her words. “I have refused his offer, as his unwarranted jealousy has proven itself to be a danger to me and my son.”
The bishop squinted. “His what?”
“Unwarranted jealousy. He is a very jealous man and imagines esteem where it doesn’t exist,” she said.
“What do you mean?” the bishop asked.
“He came to my son’s hunting lodge Auchenard without invitation from me,” Daisy said, her mind galloping, looking for an answer. “I have not encouraged his esteem. Never have I, not even as a young debutante. I refused him then, too, for my heart was set on Lord Chatwick. I was quite surprised to find him on the drive of my son’s hunting lodge, professing his affection for me after eleven years. Can you imagine? I’ve not heard a word of him in all that time, and he expects me to believe he has harbored a torch for me?”
The bishop clasped his hands behind his back, his expression wary. “He paints an entirely different story.”
“Of course he does, my lord. He was refused. He had come all that way to make his case for my hand in marriage without the slightest hint that I might share his esteem. You may ask my cousin or my uncle if that is true. He mistakenly believed that I didn’t share his esteem because I admired our neighbor, the laird of Arrandale. He is the son of the laird of Balhaire. The Mackenzies are a powerful Scots family. They are most certainly notsmugglers,” she said, as if that were impossible.
“How can you be certain of this?” the bishop asked. “Would not Captain Spivey have a sense of it? He claims to have encountered the man on the open sea.”
“On the open sea!” Daisy said and laughed. “How could he possibly identify a single man across the bow of one ship to the other?” Daisy honestly didn’t know if it was possible, but she laughed now as if it was madness, and the bishop...the bishop looked doubtful. “He has made some serious accusations against a good neighbor and a friend of my uncle’s,” Daisy continued, sensing that she was turning the bishop’s attention. “None of them are true. I never saw a smuggler’s ship or bounty. We were invited to Balhaire and treated with the utmost courtesy. Quite frankly, I suspect Captain Spivey will impugn anyone whom he thinks is a threat to his getting his hands on my fortune.”
“That is a serious accusation in itself,” the bishop said.
“But it is the truth, my lord. It’s quite obvious, isn’t it? He has resigned his commission from the Royal Navy. Where will he derive his income if not from Lord Chatwick’s inheritance?”
The bishop glanced back at his assistants, uncertain now. He returned his gaze to Daisy and flicked his wrist dismissively. “It hardly matters. I would not advise a marriage to Spivey. He isnotsuitable.”
“I agree,” she said.
The bishop straightened. “We might debate the merits of your journey to Scotland and your choice of company another time.” He yanked at the tails of his long waistcoat and then gestured to the settee. “Please be seated. We have much to discuss.”
Daisy sighed. She sat.
“Now then,” he said, and put his hands behind his back as he began to pace before her, as if preparing to impart crucial words of wisdom. Or a sermon. She didn’t want to hear either.
“The issue of your hand in marriage is of utmost importance. You have dallied long enough. I have come to the conclusion that there are two men who are suitable and are willing to take your hand in marriage.”
Willing!
“The first gentleman is somewhat older—”
“How old?” Daisy interrupted, earning a dark look from the bishop.
“He is in his fiftieth year,” he said.
Daisy blanched.
“Lord Vanderberg is a widower and a devout Christian man. His Christian influence on Lord Chatwick would be, in my opinion, superior to any but my own.”
That hardly recommended the gentleman to Daisy. She didn’t know Lord Vanderberg and she didn’t want to know him. Fifty years of age? She’d only recently turned nine and twenty! She thought of her shy, tender son in the hands of a devout Christian taskmaster. Would he be made to do penitence for some perceived sins? She didn’t like it. Not at all.
“The second gentleman, Lord Yarbrough, is a bit younger than yourself.”
Daisy almost moaned. She knew Lord Yarbrough—every woman in London knew him. He was a libertine who’d had as many lovers as he’d had years on this earth.
“He is young, and he can be brash at times, but he faithfully attends church services, and he has shown himself to be principled when managing his family’s fortune. He would be a good steward of Lord Chatwick’s fortune.”
