Wild (Regency Scandal 2) by Carole Mortimer (the best books of all time .txt) 📕

life. Most of all, she had brought that lightness into the manor, more noticeably to her husband. Previously a little on the dour side, Hugh’s nature had lightened considerably with his wife’s presence, and he had displayed a quiet joy in his marriage and his son.

It was a pity, then, that Elena’s own brother could not have been equally as appreciative of her.

“And you are…?”

Cat’s gaze returned to the gentleman in front of her. He had removed his hat and overcoat, revealing he was, as she had suspected, several inches over six feet tall, with fashionably styled dark hair and stern features. His eyes were pale green beneath heavy brows, the same color as Elena’s, but nowhere near as warm as his sister’s. He had a long and aristocratic nose, high cheekbones, thin lips, and a jaw so sharp, it appeared as if it might cut the razor rather than the other way about.

His attire was every bit as expertly and expensively tailored as Cat had imagined it to be, but so austere as to be colorless. He wore a black superfine over a gray waistcoat and snowy-white shirt and neckcloth, with darker gray riding breeches outlining muscular thighs above black Hessians.

Yes, Andrew Belgrade, the Duke of Essex, dressed and appeared every inch the arrogant gentleman Cat had believed him to be.

He also, apparently, had absolutely no idea that he’d been riding on McGregor land for some time and was now standing in the parlor of the McGregor family home.

As he might have visited Elena here any number of times during the past five years, but had chosen not to do so, Cat felt little sympathy for the ignorance which might, very shortly, cause him some awkwardness.

Only might, because Andrew Belgrade gave the impression he very rarely felt discomposed and never apologized for anything.

Her chin rose. “My name is Catriona McGregor.” She offered no further explanation, but knew she had no need of one when the duke’s eyes instantly widened in recognition of that name.

But he recovered quickly. “The same young lady who wrote to me? Twice.”

“Yes.”

He gave a formal bow. “In that case, I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss McGregor.”

Cat’s chin rose. “Would that I might say likewise, Your Grace.”

His brows lowered as he straightened, his eyes narrowing at the deliberate slight. “Out of curiosity, is there any chance, any chance at all, that you might have been up on the hillside a short time ago attempting to waylay innocent travelers?”

Oh good Lord!

If this man had meant to discompose her, which she had no doubt he had, then he had succeeded.

But only for a heartbeat or two as Cat quickly gathered her scattered wits together and drew herself up to her full height of two inches over five feet. “Firstly, that hillside, and as far as the human eye can see, is part of the McGregor land. Therefore, I am perfectly within my rights to do whatever I wish on my clan’s property. Secondly, I very much doubt that any of us are completely innocent, including yourself, Your Grace.” She added the last with challenge.

His nostrils flared. “Which did not answer my question as to whether or not you and your accomplice were on that particular hillside half an hour or so ago.”

Before Cat could think of a suitable reply, her “accomplice” came bounding into the room.

“Aunt Cat, the black horse we saw that fellow riding earlier is tied up outside. The man we thought was Dougal and so tried to rob him. Do you suppose— Oh.” Malcolm’s exuberant conversation came to an abrupt end when he obviously became aware that the fellow they’d tried to rob was now standing in the middle of their best parlor. But, as was usual, Malcolm’s spirit did not remain deflated for very long. “I’m Malcolm McGregor, Laird of Invergorden.” He bowed formally. “Who might you be?” he demanded less politely.

Andrew wasn’t known for being prone to bouts of impulsive amusement. Indeed, he couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled, let alone laughed. But he was sorely tempted to do so as he looked at the young man standing in front of him, his auburn curls awry as he stared up at Andrew with Elena’s green eyes.

The young man who had just boldly revealed that he and his aunt were indeed the ones who had waylaid Andrew on the hillside a short time ago.

The boy was small for his age, but he had changed his clothes since earlier and now looked every inch the young McGregor in a fitted jacket, trousers, and shirt. The image was perhaps somewhat detracted from by those riotous and cherubic red curls and the freckles adorning his snub nose and cheeks, but even so, Andrew did not doubt for a minute that this young man was indeed The Much Honored Malcolm Hugh Fraser McGregor, Laird of Invergorden, Elena’s son and Andrew’s own nephew and ward.

To say he was surprised to realize this spacious house and the surrounding land was the extensive estate and home of the McGregor family his sister had married into would be an understatement.

If Andrew had thought about it at all over the years, he had always envisaged his sister living in a small cottage somewhere with her husband. After receiving Catriona McGregor’s letters, he had adjusted that to his sister and her husband living in the cramped confines of a crofter’s cottage, along with their young son and Hugh McGregor’s spinster sister.

He hadn’t known that Hugh McGregor was laird of his clan, nor that Elena had been his Lady. Or that their estate was vast and teeming with the livestock of cows and sheep from which they obviously made a comfortable living.

I was not aware of Elena’s circumstances because I chose not to see or visit with her after her elopement. Nor did I ever meet her son before today.

And for that, Andrew bore sole responsibility. Elena had written to him during her first year of marriage, letters he had