Chapter Two

A lady should never find herself alone with a man.

December 18, 1817

Dratted rain that turned to snow and turned back into rain again. Pick a side!

Jackson Ramsay, the Earl of Greystone, huffed out his displeasure as he stared out the window glass of his traveling coach.

“Why do we have to make this atrocious trip, Papa?” This from his daughter, Elsbeth, who, at the age of sixteen, had asked him the same question at some point every day since they’d departed London. “It seems unnecessary and petty.”

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from speaking sharply to the young lady, for he’d given her the same answer the last string of days. “I want to spend Christmastide away from London. Town has grown stale.”

Perhaps he’d undertaken a fool’s journey traveling this close to Christmas, but it couldn’t be helped. It had become critical that both he and his daughter leave London so they could bond again and grow closer. Ever since he’d lost his wife a few years ago, he hadn’t been the same, had felt her loss keenly, and perhaps unconsciously had drifted apart from his only child.

So in a bid to control things and help them both remember what truly mattered in life, Jackson had announced their departure abruptly to the staff. A few days later, two traveling coaches were loaded with luggage and people. They left soon after for his property in the Scottish Highlands.

As part of his titled holdings, the estate in Scotland was located between Gretna Green and Lockerbie, with a large, forested area to the east. Thought it wasn’t a large estate, perhaps a hundred acres or so, it was his only real sanctuary. His father had used it as a hunting lodge, for the hunting was good, fishing also, but it was more of a retreat than anything else. The manor was an old Medieval style with ivy growing on one side in the summer, moss in the fall. There were more sheep than people through the tenant farms, and also cows. So many blooming Highland coos, until a man could grow mad just from looking at them. It was a parcel of land left to him from his mother, which his father couldn’t touch, but he used it often enough. Mama adored it in the Highlands, said she missed the clear air there and the open spaces, that she often felt crowded and caged in London.

And he couldn’t blame her. There was something special about being in the Highlands, something he had never been able to find anywhere else in the world, so Jackson used the estate when he wanted to be left alone and think or evade his feelings.

To date, it hadn’t worked.

“Papa, have you even listened to anything I’ve said in the last ten minutes?” Annoyance wove through Elsbeth’s voice. She frowned at him from the opposite bench. “You never listen.”

This time, he did sigh, and when he focused his attention on his daughter, he was a tad worried that she appeared so distressed. “I am aware you find this an inconvenience, but once we arrive, you will thank me. Your grandmother wished to keep the old Scottish traditions alive, and since we both need some time away—”

“No, you need time away,” she said with a petulant frown. “ I don’t want to leave my friends in exchange for being on an isolated Scottish property. There’s nothing to do and no one to talk to.”

Trying to summon patience to the forefront proved a challenge, but he refused to snap at his daughter when her only crime was being bored. “Are you certain they’re your friends? Every time you see them, you end up in tears over something they said or did to you. Friends don’t do that to each other.”

Thus, one of the reasons he wished to remove her at least through Twelfth Night.

When she blew out a breath, it ruffled the light brown curls on her forehead. “You don’t understand what it’s like being this age, Papa.”

“Perhaps I don’t since I’m so ancient.” Apparently, the age of seven and thirty was too far gone, and he had one foot in the grave. “However, I know that if I remove you from that scenario, you will have a good three weeks to discover who you are away from those girls.” He nodded, as if trying to convince himself. “It is my right as your father.” And in lieu of his wife, he would do everything he could to bring Elsbeth up as a strong woman with confidence and someone who knew the difference between people who were true opposed to ones who were fair-weather friends.

She shook her head as she stared out the window at the passing scenery. “Why do we need to be in Scotland for Christmastide? It’s going to be so boring. I’d much rather stay home.”

Enough of the same argument day after day. Some of his patience slipped. “And what would you have been doing in London? Moping about the house? Reading? Lamenting that your life is a collection of unrealized dreams?” Perhaps it was legitimate ennui, but most likely it was a young girl in her adolescent years attempting to gain sympathy from anyone who would listen. At that age, everything was done for attention.

A pink blush spread over her cheeks. “Not all the time. There are outings.”

“Well, there will be the same at Dove Cottage.” It had been named that by his mother, apparently in the early days of her marriage to his father. Since the moniker was cute, it had stuck throughout the years.

“I rather doubt that. Didn’t you say it’s naught but a hunting lodge?”

“Among other things.”

She huffed again. “Why couldn’t we spend the holiday season at Greystone Hall in Sussex? I wouldn’t have minded walking the seashore. At least then I could search for shells and perhaps sea glass.”

As much as he adored his country estate, it was still far too close to London for his liking just now, and it had been one of the places that his wife had loved above all others. He wasn’t strong enough for those memories.

“You can take walks and hikes in the Highlands. Occasionally, people find Roman coins or other artifacts.” Though it hadn’t happened to him, he knew of others who’d found such things. “Though everything is all dependent on the weather. Things have been odd this year.”

The summer had been a wet one across England and Wales, but to be fair, the year 1817 was also a bad year across Scotland. Early autumnal frosts had damaged or delayed the harvests, which resulted in much hardship in the rural and highland areas. Whether the disturbances were a consequence of the cold, disturbed patterns induced by the Tambora volcanic eruption from the year before or some other mishap from nature, he couldn’t say, for such things weren’t in his purview, but he tried to help the tenant farms in his care when he could.

“Besides, we haven’t been to the cottage for nearly three years. Not since…”

“…before Mama died,” Elsbeth quietly finished for him. When she regarded him and their gazes met, a trace of sadness clouded the blue depths of her eyes. Though her features were much like her mother’s, her eyes and hair were all his.

“Yes.” The word was propelled on a choked whisper. He’d lost his wife almost three years before, but there were days when it seemed like yesterday, and he didn’t believe he could move forward with his life without her. Yet there were other days when he looked back with fondness, was glad for the years he had with her, and thought he might be ready to move forward with whatever life would bring. “You and I needed to remove from London for a while so we can enjoy each other’s company and realize what is most important to us. We have gotten off track a bit since your mother left us.”

“Do stop.” Briefly, she pointed her gaze to the roof of the coach then transferred it out the window once more. “You are just annoyed you don’t have a cause or charity to keep you occupied. And since you rarely attend your club any longer out of some misguided sense that I need constant supervision, you are bored, among other things.”

He frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Don’t be coy, Papa.” A trace of a smile curved her lips. “You live to fix people. You are the collector of broken things. Ever since Mama died, you have made it your unspoken mission to champion the cause of other people who you have deemed broken, to help put their lives back together so you won’t need to attend the cracks and shards of your own.”

“What? Surely not.” Yet she wasn’t wrong. Because of his wife’s urging, he had involved himself in those sorts of causes over the years. They—and she—had changed him into the man that he was today, which made him more patient and understanding to the plights of others around him. But was he as broken as his daughter made it sound? While annoyed, he was impressed with how mature her accusation was. “That might be true. However, I am not confirming or denying that, so why do you think that?”

Another huff escaped her, but she glanced his way again and this time she held his gaze. Suddenly, he saw her as the young woman she was instead of the girl he’d thought of her for so long. A young woman on the verge of stepping into her adult life complete with all the hopes and dreams and heartaches that would invariably go along with that. And he could only protect her from hurt for so long.

“Papa, I love you, but you are the type of man who needs a project, who needs to concentrate on someone else as a distraction from grief or loneliness or whatever else you currently struggle with.”

Quiet reigned in the coach’s interior for the space of a few heartbeats, for it was quite a definitive statement.

“Uh, how could you possibly know that?”

Elsbeth shrugged, but there was a grin brimming of confidence about her. “I am a student of philosophy and psychology. The last is a rather new concept, of course, but my tutor says it’s a fascinating subject that has been studied in other countries for hundreds of years. It would serve me well in life, no matter what I choose to do with my future. Above that, it will help me understand the intricacies of finishing school.”

“I see.” He and his wife had made the decision to hire tutors for Elsbeth on many different subjects to give her the sort of education she deserved as an earl’s daughter. They hadn’t wanted her to believe the only recourse she had available to her was to marry, have children, or run a household. “I must say, I’m rather impressed. The world is constantly changing and growing. The more we understand of it, the better we can serve those who need our help.”

“There you go again, Papa, wanting to fix people.”

“I can’t seem to help it. When you come from wealth and privilege, you should be compelled to make life easier for others.” It was something both of his parents impressed upon him. They said if God’s blessings fell on a person, it was their responsibility to pass them on.

“It’s a wonderful trait, of course, but don’t neglect your own needs in the process.” She leaned forward and laid a hand on his knee. “You are worthy of receiving love and help too. I know how much you loved Mama, but she wouldn’t want you to spend the rest of your life alone. It is perfectly all right if you wish to marry again.”

“I haven’t it given thought, to be honest.” He swallowed down the ball of emotion in his throat. Aside from a disastrous relationship with a mistress a year ago, he’d not gone out of his way to seek out companionship from a woman.

When he married at the age of twenty, he’d barely had time alone with his wife before they discovered she was with child and then was delivered of the babe. Ever since then, it had always been the three of them, and he’d always wished they’d had time to explore their marriage before starting their family. “I’m not certain I want to marry again.”

Yet a second time around might prove different than the first, but could he open himself up to the risk? Could he give away his heart a second time and then potentially go through the grieving process all over again? Despite what the heart might want, fate was an exacting task master who didn’t always play fair.

The thoughts were destined to not be answered just then, for the coach came to an abrupt halt that jostled them both on their benches.

“Ho there!” The driver’s call quickly followed the stop of forward momentum. “Your Lordship, there is an issue in the road!”

Apprehension went down Jackson’s spine. “What is amiss?”

“Uh, I think you need to come out and take a look.”

He looked at his daughter, who shrugged.

“You go ahead. I’m tired and wish to nap.” So saying, she stretched out on the bench with her back to him, apparently ready and willing to sleep regardless of what was happening around her.

Ah, to be young again. “I’m going outside to see what the problem is.” Since there was no answer from his daughter, Jackson shoved open the door, kicked down the steps, then exited the vehicle… only to be confronted with cold rain and a colder breeze.

Shock smacked into his chest when he reached the spot where one of his drivers stood. “What the devil?” The roadway was littered with dresses and unmentionables. A few slippers and various other personal affects decorated the ground.

“I’d guess a robbery. See how the coach is on its side and no horses? I think the drivers robbed her and left her for dead.”

“Bloody hell.”

John nodded. “Think she’s dead?”

“I would have no idea.” Slowly, he approached the form of a woman lying crumped in the road with a cloak wrapped around her body. Her skirting had come up to nearly the knee on one leg revealing a completely damp stocking and a well-turned ankle and calf. Regardless, she wasn’t moving. When he dropped to his knees in the road despite the mud and the wet, he eased the woman onto her back. “She’s young-ish. Probably around five and twenty or so.” The naturally arched black eyebrows and bone structure spoke of a strong personality. Locks of black hair had escaped the pins. There was no bonnet close by, so perhaps it was still in the coach.

“I’ll give it a once over.”

“Thank you.” Still concerned, Jackson continued to evaluate the woman. Her chest rose and fell, so she was merely unconscious. “Miss? Miss? Can you hear me?” Gently, he tapped her cheek with his gloved fingertips. How long had she been in the road with no one to care for her or look after her? As he brushed the hair away from the left side of her face, he gasped, for there was an angry bruise forming as well as broken skin that had already begun to scab over, definitely an indication that she’d been there for some time. The dark arcs of her lashes fanned over her pale cheeks, leaving a poignant picture behind. “Miss?”

Seconds later, she opened her eyes, and he nearly fell into such dark brown depths they resembled rich, strong coffee. Shock and confusion reflected in those eyes and her pale lips formed a slight “o” as she stared up at him.

“Can you speak? Are you well?” As he continued to tap her cheek, he couldn’t help the note of command in his voice. It was in his nature to take charge. Even though he’d never served in the military, managing people was his talent; by necessity, for his father suffered a decline of the mind for many years before finally succumbing to the disease. In that time, Jackson had stepped in. “How long have you been lying here?”

“I… I don’t know,” she finally managed to whisper as she continued to peer into his face.

Despite the rain falling steadily, he tried to shield her from the worst of the precipitation with his shoulders the best he could. When she lifted a hand, he caught it in his. She frowned at the impasse, and slowly the color returned to her cheeks and lips, all of which were quite red.

As he continued to stare, he chuckled. “Was that answer in regard to how you feel or your current circumstances?” He traced her cheek and temple with a fingertip. “There is a bruise forming here and the skin has been broken slightly. The blood has already clotted, so you’ve been here at least a couple of hours.” The poor woman had to be freezing by this point. Anyone would if they were left in the rain and the cold.

An intense blush colored her cheeks. When she attempted to sit, she groaned. “My head aches. So does my cheek. And there is a bit of dizziness.”

“I’ll wager it does.” Not wanting her to move around too much, Jackson held her upper body propped against his chest. “From the looks of the disabled coach over there and belongings strewn about, I’ll wager you were robbed.”

She snorted. “By my drivers.”

“That’s what my driver suspected.”

“One pulled a pistol on me, and when I fought against having my reticule taken, he hit me.” She raised a hand to explore the tender area with her fingertips, but her body was racked by a shiver. “I’m quite cold.”

From the notes of culture in her dulcet tones, she was most likely part of the ton . How she came to be traveling alone only added to the mystery surrounding her. “That settles it. You need to ride with me and my daughter.” What sort of gentleman would he be if he didn’t try and protect her? When she stared, he grinned.

Perhaps his daughter was right.

“I couldn’t possibly impose. Let me find my own way.”

“Alone?” He shook his head. “Come. Let me help you to stand. Once you are warm and settled, we will make plans.” Seconds after he gained his footing, he extended a hand to her.

With an expression of wariness, the woman slipped her fingers into his palm. As soon as he closed his fingers around hers, an odd, charged sensation bolted to his elbow. When she stumbled, he was there. “Oh, dear.” Before she could tumble into the mud, Jackson lifted her into his arms, regardless of her dirty state. If the mud marred his greatcoat, it was a small price to pay.

“You are in no condition to go anywhere, so I am making the decision to take you to wherever your destination lies. Or to the nearest posting inn so you can make other plans.” When his gaze crashed into hers, awareness swept over him as a silent connection formed between them. It was something he hadn’t experienced since the early days of his marriage. “Consider it my gift to you this Christmastide. If you believe in such miracles.”

“Uh, I do not, but thank you for this boon. I was in need of a rescue.”

“Then I’m glad I came along when I did.” To John, who came away from the disabled coach with a book in hand, he said, “Gather the garments and things that don’t look to be completely damaged. We will take them with us.”

“At once, Your Lordship.”

Now the trip north had suddenly become more interesting.