Page 35 of This Laird of Mine

“Nay.” The steward sighed. “I would have killed her myself when she first wheedled her way into this family if I’d known the trouble she would eventually cause. But the answer is nay. I know nothin’ about her death other than that Jules dinna kill her.”

“Thank you for telling me about the chamber and about Jules’s past,” Claire said.

Fin nodded. “His future looks much brighter now that ye have arrived.”

Claire drew a shaky breath. They had no future together—bright or otherwise. All they had was the here and now. But perhaps, now that she knew the truth about the ballroom, she could find some way to exorcise the ghosts of his past.

Later that day, Claire tried to put thoughts of Jules and his suffering out of her mind as she worked in the soil. She paused in her gardening to push the escaping tendrils of her hair out of her face, then leaned on her spade and surveyed the rose garden with a sense of accomplishment. She had rid the ground of every last weed to expose the wildly overgrown stalks. Her reward for freeing them from their prison of weeds was the sweet, heady scent from open blossoms that reminded her of the summer she had spent learning how to paint roses, over and over again. She had filled twenty canvasses that summer with the wild pink, red, and orange blooms.

Claire brushed her fingers over a soft, velvet petal. And just as they had so many summers ago, the blooms caused a riot of inspiration to crowd her mind. Ideas for how and where to add roses to the ceiling in the ballroom swirled through her head in prismatic colors—a blend of orange and yellow, a light hint of pink around the edges, the stamen a mixture of brown and red, with a light touch of yellow.

The colors would fill her nights with activity and add just the right touch to the corners of the room. She would bring the outside inside and fill with light and beauty a room that had once been the site of so much anger and pain.

For the past four days she had done nothing but garden in the morning, and paint at night by the light of many lamps. She spent the hours in between with their guests who were becoming more tired every day by the advancing stage of their pregnancies. But when the women did have energy, they, too, seemed eager to transform Kildare Manor while Jules was away. Nicholas and Hollister directed the men they’d hired to clear the briars and brambles away from the manor, while David and Fin busied themselves with the grass that covered the entire estate.

Jane and Margaret were eager to share their knowledge of running an estate the size of Kildare Manor with Claire, for which she was grateful. Today they had interviewed two women who had come to the manor to apply for the position of cook.

The manor was coming back to life, as was Jules’s reputation. He had said the villagers were frightened of him once. Well, something had changed in the last few days, because every day since Jules had left for Edinburgh, villagers came to the estate, asking for work. David and the others had put them to good use, inside and outside the house. Claire only hoped Jules’s pride could withstand the financial assistance his friends offered him, especially without his consent.

Satisfied with her progress in the rose garden today and eager to find her paints, Claire set her gardening spade aside and headed back toward the house. No sooner had she entered through the kitchen and washed thoroughly when Margaret and Jane found her.

“There you are,” Margaret said, a slow smile lighting her face. Jane was right behind her as they came into the empty space. “We’ve come to propose an idea to you.”

Claire dried her hands on a linen towel and, with exaggerated care, folded it and placed it near the washbasin. “What manner of idea?”

“One that involves you and Jules,” Margaret said with a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes. From the doorway, she waved the new cook, Mrs. Jarve, forward. The woman was herself a recipe of nationalities—part French, part English, part Scottish. She had impeccable references, but what had won her the position were the rhubarb tarts she had brought with her to the interview. The cook smiled shyly at Claire now, as she too came to stand before her.

The three of them surrounded her. Claire’s nervousness rose in proportion to the glee in their eyes.

“Hear us out,” Jane said, coming forward with a rustle of rose satin. “We know you and Jules married in haste with no one there to support you. I realize now it was most likely because of his financial situation that he kept things private. But we still want to celebrate with you both as is more in keeping with tradition. And now that we have a cook capable of the task”—she hesitated for a moment before continuing—“we want to prepare a wedding feast for you both when Jules returns. We will celebrate the beginning of your new life together the way it should have been celebrated in the first place.”

Of all the things Claire had expected Jane to say, it had not been that.

“Oh please say yes, Claire. There is nothing like a wedding banquet with all the delicious sweetmeats and the frivolity and the guests dressed in their most colorful velvets and satins.”

“It seems like a lot of work, not to mention the expense, to celebrate something that has already happened,” Claire said.

“The entire event will be a gift from Nicholas and me.”

“You’ve already spared no expense in order to repair the estate. We should wait for Jules to return before anything more is done.” Claire dipped her gaze. “I have not known Jules as long as you, but I do know he is a proud man. The changes that have been made in his absence will be difficult for him to bear.”

Jane held out her hand. “Mercy, don’t you worry about that. Nicholas and Hollister will take care of everything. They will enter into some sort of arrangement with Jules that will keep his dignity and his pride. But that’s for the men to accomplish. Margaret and I have something to show you.”

Claire stared at Jane, not moving, still unsure, so Jane grasped her hand and pulled her toward the door. “Come,” Jane said.

Surrendering to her fate, Claire allowed Jane to lead her from the kitchen and through the house, up the stairs, and into the master’s chamber. Claire swallowed a thick lump in her throat. This was the first time she had seen Jules’s room, even though Jane and Margaret assumed she slept there. Her heart hammering as she invaded Jules’s sacred domain, Claire allowed Jane to guide her toward the great bed in the center of the room. The linen hangings were tied back. On the quilted comforter lay a dress. Jane lifted the magnificent emerald gown up for Claire to admire. “Isn’t it lovely?”

Claire peered at the exquisite damask silk. “It’s the finest gown I have ever seen.”

“Good,” Jane said with a broad smile, “because I purchased this gown for you to wear tomorrow night when Jules returns from Edinburgh.”

Claire shifted her gaze from Jane to Margaret, who stood near the bedpost. Margaret nodded. “We’ve invited several guests to attend the banquet, people who used to come to Kildare Manor over the years, but have strayed away from Jules’s company.”

“In order for Jules to be a successful laird, we need to relaunch him into society as a competent landowner and leader of his clan.” Jane’s expression grew serious. “A wedding feast gives us the perfect opportunity to celebrate both his marriage and his claim to his lairdship. Please say you will help us? Without his bride, we cannot do this.”

Claire shuddered as fear gripped her. Closing her eyes for a moment, she imagined herself in that dress, greeting her husband with guests all around them. He wouldn’t be able to run away with so many people expecting him to play the roles of groom and laird.

A host of questions crowded her thoughts. Could she play the role of wife and seducer? Could she be everything Jules needed her to be in front of his friends and his peers? Could she set aside her own agenda and help him be the laird his friends hoped him to become? Could she give him something that might help him in his future without her? The thought brought with it a twist of pain.