Page 34 of To Wed an Heiress
She had taken the housekeeper’s advice and now she was glad she had. It truly was a lovely day.
According to what she’d been told, the road acted as a barrier between Macrory land and that belonging to the Caithearts. Although wide and paved, it was barely traveled. Her carriage had probably been the only vehicle for days.
Now she crossed the road slowly, following the glen that sloped down to the loch. The earth was almost wild here, with deep gullies and rolling hills that hid the rest of the scenery from her. The loch, shiny silver in the morning light, stretched out before her like a crooked finger, disappearing into the horizon. On the far side, thick woods hid any settlement from view. On this side of the loch, Duddingston Castle guarded the land at one end while the mountain they called Ben Uaine was the sentinel to her left.
Lennox had flown from that mountain like an enormous eagle, swooping down on her carriage. She could still hear Ruthie’s screams.
It had been the act of an insane man, yet everything she’d heard about Lennox made her believe that he was as sane as anyone. Did no one realize that he was simply a man of science? Why, though, had he changed from studying to be a physician to trying to fly?
What the Earl of Morton did was none of her concern. An admonition she’d told herself often enough in the past week. The truth was, however, that the Scottish earl fascinated her much more than he should have.
Every night at dinner he was a topic of conversation. She’d learned that he was considered a hermit by the villagers, rarely traveling away from Duddingston Castle. He never asked for help. Nor did he ever participate in village events. The castle, once known for its entertainments, especially at the holidays, was now dark and somber. People weren’t invited there and those who had occasion to visit told a tale of being kept at the door instead of being asked inside.
At least she’d seen the interior of Duddingston Castle, or the Clan Hall and the kitchen.
Why was Lennox living nearly alone? None of the conversations at dinner mentioned a sweetheart or a wife.
Her interest was innocent enough. She wouldn’t be remaining in Scotland long and a little curiosity about a Scottish earl didn’t seem amiss.
Still, it wasn’t something she was going to mention to her Scottish relatives. Flora would ask her how she could possibly want to know something about another man when she was due to be married. Her grandmother’s words would be even more cutting.
No, it was better if she kept her questions to herself.
Chapter Sixteen
The morning was bright and sunny, the breeze off Ben Uaine smelling of growing things and Loch Arn. For some reason the wind was always stronger in the morning than the afternoon.
As a child Lennox had played on Ben Uaine, disobeying his parents as he pretended to be the conqueror of the world. Robert had come in search of him, lecturing as was his habit. It hadn’t worked. Lennox had explored all sides of the mountain, including the south face where he stood now.
He’d always come to the mountain to think. Ben Uaine gave him distance, lent him perspective, and healed him.
There was a spot near the top that was hollowed out as if God had reached down with a giant fist and scooped out part of the rock. He often sat there watching as the clouds skidded across the sky. Most of the thorny questions of his youth had been pondered there.
When his parents had died he’d come here, looking out over Caitheart land. He’d felt the pull of history in this spot, something that had oddly comforted him at his loneliest. The mountain had been the first place he’d come to when he’d moved from Edinburgh, reluctantly taking over his role as the Earl of Morton, assuming the yoke of Duddingston Castle with grave reservations, knowing that he wouldn’t be as good as Robert at preserving and protecting their ancestral home.
Somehow, he’d managed. Over the years he’d learned to anticipate problems, seeing the castle like it was a diseased organism, something needing to be healed. He’d repaired the roof over the Clan Hall himself, cleaned out the chimneys in the intact wing with Irene looking on in terror. He’d removed dozens of years of refuse from the courtyard so he could use the space to build his airships, and had generally been as good a steward for his home as he could manage.
From here Duddingston Castle looked almost whole, a four-hundred-year-old fortress standing resolute and strong against any invader. The castle was impotent against time itself, however. The eroding years had done their damage. The Caitheart home would never be what it had once been.
Perhaps that was right and good and proper.
He could not reverse time or circumstances. If he could, he’d bring Robert back to life. He would transport himself to Edinburgh except for periodic visits home. Perhaps he would have still been fascinated with the idea of flying and his inventions. Or the press of his work might have pushed those other interests to the back of his mind.
“You’re all for doing this, then?” Connor asked, helping him push the airship to the edge of the pad.
When he’d originally thought about launching one of his airships, he’d remembered this area of Ben Uaine. It was like the Almighty had flattened part of the mountain, leaving a wide square that was a perfect takeoff point.
“I am,” he said. “I know this is a new design, but it’s stable. I don’t think it will fight the wind and it should be easy to pilot.”
Connor still looked skeptical, but that was fine. He didn’t have to approve.
“You haven’t worked on this one as long as you have the other.”
He clapped Connor on the shoulder. “You worry too much. I promise not to crash into any carriages.”
They’d put up a barricade on the road, wide enough to stop a vehicle if one were turning toward Duddingston Castle. In that way he was reassured that he wouldn’t cause another accident.
Connor didn’t say anything further, probably because he knew it would be a waste of time.
