Page 41 of Lyon of Scotland
“We met years ago,” she explained.
“My father is not pleased,” he said. “But he is never pleased.”
“I know.”
“He is unhappy to see that Lord Lyon is close friends with Walter Scott. He says Lyon expects to be introduced to the king. Father wants me to be introduced to the king, you see, as the designer of the new royal crest. He does not want that to go to Lyon’s artists.”
“Your father wants you to succeed, Charley. He would…do anything to help you, I’m sure.” The irony of that felt heavy as she took his hand and tried to smile.
Then she remembered, with a sinking feeling, that Charles Dove knew that she had been working on the Scottish crests in secret. She had confided in him not long before Lyon arrived in London—and she had forgotten about it. Nor had she had the chance to share her work with Naylor. Perhaps it was for the best. She would show it to Dare first and ask his advice before she sent the drawings anywhere. As Lord Lyon, her husband would know the best way to present her drawings.
Fate had continually stepped into her life, she thought. Even the delay in sharing her designs seemed advantageous. Perhaps now that Strathburn was fully part of her life, her luck was truly changing for the better.
“Miss Gordon—Lady Strathburn,” Charley said, “what will I do without you in the art room?”
“You will excel, Charley. You are so talented.”
“Father wants me to supervise the heraldry work someday. I do not want that.”
“You would do well with it. Everyone respects you there. You know heraldry.”
“I hope so. I am not sure. Will you paint for the Scottish office now?”
“I have not thought about it,” she said, raising her brows. “Time will tell.”
“Lord Lyon told Sir George he needs a painter up north.”
“I did not know.” Puzzled by that, she glanced toward her bridegroom. Strathburn stood talking to the lady draped in black, the matchmaker partly responsible for their marriage. When he handed the woman an envelope, she frowned.
Of course, she thought. He was paying the marriage fee. She never needed the contract that Dove had forced on her—Strathburn had wanted to marry her all along. That revelation warmed her all through. Fate again had guided her in this direction.
Would he give Dove an envelope as well? A twist of fear swirled through her. Dove wanted to be paid, but Strathburn didn’t intend to give him anything. He wanted proof, and would haul Dove to court if necessary. She feared Dove would continue to pursue them.
But she was married to Strathburn now, and the sense of protection that brought was a blessing. She wanted to leave all these troubles behind her in London. But the knot in her stomach still remained.
Bidding Charley farewell, she hurried to the carriage. As she walked past Dove, he glared at her so fiercely that she stumbled. Strathburn reached out to take her arm, and she saw him spare a knife-like glance for the older lawyer. Hannah could feel the tension rolling off her husband.
“There you go, lass,” Dare said, handing her into the vehicle.
“Can we go to the port now?” she whispered. “Can we hurry, please?”
“We will.” He smiled, and her heart lifted. What they had done this day was good. She trusted that more with every moment. Yet she felt oddly spun about and breathless, for she wondered what consequences might come next. And she could not easily forget Dove’s icy glare.
Hannah followed Strathburnthrough the bustling port of Wapping, rushing to keep up with his long stride. Lord Linhope hurried ahead while two boys cheerfully toted their luggage in a wooden wheelbarrow, assured of being paid well for the task.
In a wooden shed perched on a long pier, Strathburn purchased tickets for the passenger steamer soon departing for Scotland. So many ships, their masted sails thrusting into the sky, filled the port that they searched for a while until they found theMargery—a long, sleek ship with a tall, cylindrical chimney, two boxed paddle wheels, and plenty of sail rigging. A large, low-roofed cabin with glass windows all around took up much of the deck. Hannah could see people moving about inside, standing or taking seats, while on the deck, sailors tended to the rigging and engines.
“I’ve never been on an iron steamboat before,” Hannah said as they walked up the wooden ramp.
“Steamship,” Strathburn said. “Steamboats travel rivers, while steamships are larger vessels with paddle wheels and large engines to make them more seaworthy. They run on steam from water vapor produced by coal fires. Often they use sails too, if the coal runs low. We are fortunate to get tickets, as the ship is nearly full with fifty passengers. Watch your step,” he added.
Soon they were settled on chairs and a small sofa by a wide window in the lounge cabin. The room was fitted tables and comfortable chairs, and long low shelves contained books and boxes of games and playing cards. At one end of the lounge room, tables held a buffet with generous platters of food as wellas samovars of hot coffee and tea, all prepared in a kitchen belowdecks.
“Very comfortable,” Hannah said, surprised. “How long is the journey?” She accepted the cup of tea Strathburn brought her, while Linhope set down plates he had filled with an assortment of cakes, rolls, cheese, and fruit.
“About twenty-four hours, depending on tides and weather,” Linhope said. “Have you both traveled by steamship before?” she asked. “I came to London in a coach last August. It was terribly hot and stuffy. Such a long journey.” She had traveled down with Flora, but the maid had elected to stay with Georgina for a little longer.
“I came down twice this year already,” Linhope said.
