Page 18 of The Devil Wears Kilts
“Now.”
The gray that had once sprinkled across Myles Wilkie’s temples had lightened and spread, turning his brown hair almost blond. That had all happened sometime in the past three years. His edges all seemed a bit worn, Ranulf realized, though it remained to be seen whether it was more than skin-deep. Nor did he judge anything based on the fact that Myles took the chair directly to his left rather than the opposite one at the far end of the table.
“I missed you, boy,” the viscount finally said. “You and your brothers. And Rowena, of course. You’re all that’s left of my family.” He took a breath. “And Rowena, for God’s sake—she was just a child when last I saw her. And now… She’s a lovely young woman.”
“Why only Englishmen on yer list?” Ranulf broke in, attempting to put a halt to the reminiscing. He hadn’t caused the split between them, after all.
“So it’s to be nothing but business, then?”
Ranulf picked up his slice of toasted bread. Slowly and deliberately he spread a thick layer of peach marmalade across it. “I believe I told ye that we’re no longer family, so we’ve naught to discuss but business.”
Myles sat forward, jabbing his forefinger into the polished tabletop. “If you still don’t trust me, why was it me you asked for help in finding servants?”
“Better the devil ye know. Isn’t that the saying?”
The viscount glared at him, then slapped the paper down beside Ranulf’s elbow. “Here in London,you’rethe devil.”
“Aye. That I am.”
“I chose Englishmen because they’re less likely to know who you are, and less likely to have been approached by anyone who might wish you harm, especially now that everyone knows you’re in London.” He took a breath. “None are from my household, because I knew you wouldn’t allow that, but I have met and spoken to each one of them personally. And discreetly. They all come from fine households and with high recommendations. For that reason they’ll also cost you a fair penny.”
With a nod, Ranulf continued eating. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Oh, for God’s sake!” his uncle burst out. “I’ve apologized a hundred times. I was trying to help!”
Help.The word punched into Ranulf’s chest, dark and heavy. “Yer so-called help nearly got Munro—Bear—killed.”
“You’re all alone up there, Ranulf! You need allies outside your own clan, even if you won’t acknowledge that fact. The Donnellys made overtures. They seemed genuinely interested in the education system you’ve put in place for your cotters.”
“Aye, because they genuinely wanted to burn every one of my schoolhouses to the ground. The Donnellys and the Gerdenses are two of a kind, Myles. They allied their clans decades ago. And ye gave ’em a bloody map.”
“To show them how you’ve divided your land into districts, sharing the work and the income, allowing all the youngsters a chance at an education. I was bragging about all you’ve managed to accomplish, even with the Crown breathing down your neck.”
Ranulf took a hard breath. “Whatever yer intentions, because of ye I lost three schools. And if Bear had been two minutes earlier, he would have been right in the middle of the third blaze. He took a ball to the shoulder, as it was.”
“You think I don’t know that? It still keeps me awake nights.”
“Good.” Finally Ranulf sat forward. For a time he’d thought three years’ distance might blunt his anger and his fear over what had nearly happened, but every time Rowena or anyone else mentioned Myles’s name, it all flooded back. “Ye may have spent ten years in the Highlands, Myles, but ye’re nae Scottish. Ye dunnae understand how deep old wounds go. Ye never will. And I’ll never trust ye again, because ye still think ye were right in trying to step in.”
“I helped raise ye.”
“Nae. I was eighteen when ye came north. I’ll give that ye helped raise the others. And I’ll give that when Eleanor swallowed poison and orphaned Rowena and us lads, ye did come north. I know that wasnae an easy thing for ye.”
Myles swallowed. “She shouldn’t have done that. My sister—your mother—we all knew she didn’t belong up there. But she loved your father.”
“She loved being a marchioness. When I took the title, she wanted us all to move down to London. From the beginning she wanted us raised English. We’d be English aristocrats, with a seat up in Scotland. Just like all the others. Father wouldnae have it, and neither would I.” He’d been fifteen when they’d all lost Seann Monadh—the Old Mountain—as the clansfolk referred to Robert MacLawry. And from the first day he’d taken his father’s title, he’d had to fight.
“I know. She… didn’t do well by you. But if I might ask, why have you permitted Rowena a Season, now?”
“That’s her tale to tell, if she so chooses.”
The sad, hopeful look returned to Myles’s expression. “Then you’ll let me see her?”
“She’s nae here.”
“Oh.”
Damnation.“She’s staying at Hanover House, so Lady Hest can sponsor her. Go see her there, if ye will. But ye’ll nae take her from the house unless Debny or Owen or Peter is with ye.”
