The Wish Club Read online

  “I’ll be moving t’the castle tomorrow,” she told them all. “Mr. Rossmara and I made that arrangement, and I’ll be keepin’ to it. I’d hoped ye’d be happy for me, but if ye won’t, then I must do as I see fit. I’m no’ a wee bairn for ye to order around. Thank ye for comin’, sir. I’m sorry it wasna a more pleasant visit. I’m sure my family will come t’understand that this isn’t a personal business.”

  “Kirsty,” her father said, leaving his place close to Mother’s side and coming to stand in front of his daughter. “Ye’re goin’ no matter if we say we dinna want ye to?”

  Her eyes were too dry for tears. She whispered, “Yes, Father, I’m goin’. Ye aren’t thinkin’ what you’re sayin’ or what ye really believe. Ye’ve known Mr. Rossmara since he was a wee thing. Ye know he’s a good man, just as he was a good boy. That’s by the by now, but ye ought t’know ye can trust his honor as I do.”

  “I’ll not say what’s on my mind, then,” Father told her. “Except that ye’ve been an unhappy girl these past years, and someone made ye so.”

  Kirsty felt her face flame. “My mind’s made up.” She turned to Max. “I’ll come t’ye in the mornin’ and start my duties.”

  “Kirsty—”

  “Enough, Niall,” his father said, as Niall started forward. “There’ll be no more discussion. Good-bye t’ye then, Kirsty Mercer.”

  She stared at him.

  “Nooo, Robert,” her mother wailed. “Dinna say what canna be mended.”

  “Dinna, Father,” Niall echoed.

  Father’s throat jerked. “Ye’ll go now, my girl. Ye’ve made your choice, and it’s for him, not your family. I won’t have ye makin’ your mother’s sufferin’ the longer by bein’ here another moment.” He gave Max a long look. “Ye’ve torn a strong family asunder, but ye’ll come t’your own reckonin’. It’s not up t’me t’take such things into my own hands.”

  “Father, I’m not leavin’ for good, only—”

  He waved her to silence. “Go now. And God go with ye.”

  “Father, please—”

  “Out. Now. Go with the one ye’ve chosen even though he’ll do ye no good. Forget us. We’ll forget ye. Ye have no father. And I have no daughter.”

  Chapter Four

  Twenty years. Twenty years she had waited for her due. An eternity. But it was finally over. The time for justice had arrived, and she, Gertrude Grabham, was ready to grasp it with both hands. How unfortunate that her so-called allies, her emissaries, her pawns, were fools to a woman—and man.

  She sighed, and removed the veil of which she grew so tired. Nevertheless she would wear it religiously. (Hah, an amusing word for one such as she whose religion was singular: her own gratification, in all things.) She would wear the veil whenever there was need for extra care in the matter of her identity.

  The sound of her bedroom door opening caused her to pull the veil hastily over her head and face again.

  Horace Hubble slipped into the room and closed the door behind him. “You don’t need that with me, Gert. You know who I am, and I know who you are. Make yourself comfy. I’ll get us a little something to warm the cockles.”

  She eyed him with distaste, but retired to her chaise nevertheless. Horace’s presence was an unspeakable complication. He must be carefully handled if she was not to run the risk of his interference proving disastrous. His unheralded arrival in Scotland that very day—when she’d been certain he was dead in France—had struck panic to her bones. If he could not be dead, why could he not at least have remained far away?

  “Still the same, is it, Gertie?” he asked. “Whiskey and water?”

  Gertrude sniffed. “I think I should prefer you to address me formally, Hubble.”

  He’d changed into a green-velvet dressing gown the color of new spring leaves, and had brushed his luxuriant blond curls to bubble where they touched his shoulders. “Am I really to call you Countess? My dearest friend? My oldest friend?”

  She would not allow him to rouse her temper. “Yes, Countess.”

  Hubble spread a hand over his paunch, and bowed. “Very well, Countess. We shall enjoy a glass of whiskey and water together.”

  “I have given up water,” she said, examining the diamond rings she wore on top of black-satin gloves. “One never knows what manner of nastiness may be in water.”

  Hubble grunted and set about pouring drinks. He had been a nuisance to her for far too long, but since he’d dropped from sight almost a year earlier she’d had reason to hope he might never return. “Why did you decide to come to Scotland?” she asked. Really, the disappointments a patient woman was called upon to endure.

  Hubble swung around, slopping whiskey from each of the glasses he held. “You aren’t glad to see me? Why, I’m crushed, Countess.”

  The glass he held out to her spread drips over the front of her gown. “I asked why you are here,” she said irritably.

  Without the slightest indication from herself that she wished him to do so, he sat beside her on the chaise, wiggling his scrawny nether regions to make room for himself.

  “Hubble? Answer me.”

  “I went to Europe on a little mission for a friend, and you packed up, and closed the London house, and tried to disappear.”

  Gertrude smiled to herself. He had assessed her actions with perfect accuracy. “You were lining your pockets with gold you have not seen fit to share with me. Why should I concern myself with you?”

  “Not so.” He shook his head until his curls flew. “The entire undertaking was a disaster. Some French farmer went to the authorities and accused me of stealing his daughter for immoral purposes. Can you imagine? Ungrateful dog. He’d been paid well enough, and I already had a most suitable buyer for the girl. Instead, it cost me everything I had to get out of the country alive.”

  “You were always a bumbler,” Gertrude said. She sipped her whiskey, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply of the delicious fire.

  “So unkind,” Hubble said. “You acquired this beautiful house and made yourself and your friends comfortable, and you didn’t invite me to join the party.” He pushed his red lips out in a pout.

  “Exactly.”

  “So, naturally, as soon as I discovered you had come north, I set out with all haste to find out what you are up to. In other words, dearest lady, I’m here to protect my own interests and to make certain I get my share of whatever it is you are intent upon securing.”

  Ooh, she detested him. “My affairs are no affair of yours. But there is nothing afoot here that should concern you. We have been in Scotland a year. The climate agrees with me, and I am pleased with a more gentle pace of life. I may never return to London.”

  “Pah.” Pausing, he drank deeply and wiped his mouth with the back of a sleeve. “London is the stuff of your very life, dear lady. No, no, you will have to devise a better excuse than that. All this posturing and bowing to the Rossmara fella. That’s what it’s about, isn’t it? And our little Hermoine posing as the blushing virgin—priceless. Trembling with anticipation at the thought of becoming his bride. That’s rich. A few words from yours truly and—”

  “Enough.” Just as she’d thought, the wretch was intent on making trouble, but he should not be allowed to do so. “Not another word, do you understand?”

  “I hardly think you’re in the position—”

  “French virgins,” she said succinctly, looking into her glass. “I’ve a Frenchie friend or two who might be interested in a man who thought he’d the right to trade in little French girls.”

  Hubble sputtered. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Wouldn’t I?”

  “Well—” His lower lip trembled. “All right then, wound a man, but give him a chance to be of very considerable use to you. I wasn’t going to do this—at least not this way—but I’ve no alternative. The chap who let on as to where you were told me an interesting little story.”

  “What man?” She wouldn’t be easily hoodwinked.

  “Oh, his name doesn�
��t matter really, except that it appears in a certain place where he wishes it didn’t appear, and he’s having discussions with a number of others in the same position.”

  Gertrude choked on her whiskey.

  Hubble smiled sweetly. “Got your attention, have I?”

  She coughed, and sputtered. “I have no idea what you can be saying.”

  “I’m not really saying anything except that I know what you’re after, and how you intend to get it—or try to get it.”

  Her heart beat faster. He couldn’t know. He couldn’t. “You bore me, Hubble.” She yawned. “Stay a day or two if you must, then off with you. Run along and find someone else to pay your bills.”

  “H.R.H.,” Hubble announced, attempting an offhand manner.

  Gertrude sat forward. “What about the queen?”

  “Oh, not the queen. Quite another H.R.H., I assure you. A royal personage who is no longer with us but who was famous for his excesses, particularly when he was the Regent. But you know this. However, the gentleman who mentioned that personage is, or was married to a certain Lady Caroline Lamb. William Lamb, Lord Melbourne. Rich circles, my love—in many ways. And he is certainly still with us. According to him a good many men in high places could have cause to shake in their boots if you’re successful in your quest. What do you intend to do if you manage to get what you want? Threaten to publish the thing? Offer to remove the names of those prepared to pay handsomely?”

  Gertrude all but shrieked, but she was a woman of great resourcefulness and she took a drink instead. How had he guessed? Did he really know exactly what she sought in Scotland, and how she intended to acquire it?

  “You’ll have to silence those girls of yours, you know. Delectable they may be, and a great boon in the matter of keeping your coffers filled by deep-pocketed gentlemen visitors, but at least one of them is talking too much.” He grinned. “Not that I’m not extremely grateful she did. My, my, if one of those lovely ladies hadn’t mentioned a certain journal to one—I’ll call him Viscount M for now—I might never have guessed what you were about.”

  “You haven’t guessed,” she snapped. “Now, go away.”

  “The Rossmara fella’s the key, isn’t he?”

  “Not another word, Hubble.”

  “That’s why you’re here. What’s his connection to the old scene? Did someone give him the journal?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Gertrude felt her confidence slide. Max Rossmara must not guess the true reason why she and Hermoine had pursued him so assiduously.

  “He sent us away this evenin’ y’know,” Hubble said fatuously. “Not exactly the way one expects an eager man to treat a woman he wants to marry, would you say?”

  “Max was tired. He said as much.”

  “Hah. He had other matters in mind. Or should I say there was someone else that mattered more than my luscious cousin. Once the little peasant left he scarce heard a word any of us said. Then he as good as told us to leave. And I’d wager that the instant we were gone he went in search of her.”

  “Not at all,” Gertrude blustered. “I should hope Mr. Rossmara would feel comfortable enough with us to be honest, and he does. He runs a great estate, the greatest estate in all Scotland.”

  Yawning, Hubble rose. “The little peasant has a certain appeal. A freshness. He’s an eye for her, I tell you. Probably feels a kinship. After all, they’re both of low birth.”

  “Hubble. Hold your tongue. Max Rossmara is the adopted son of Struan, Viscount Hunsingore. The Marquess of Stonehaven is his uncle. And Max is the marquess’s right hand.”

  “Max is also a bastard who ran the streets of London before the viscount took the notion to rescue him—and his lovely sister, of course. One does wonder about that, doesn’t one? But that doesn’t concern me. Guiding Hermoine does. She needs me—you need me to take charge. I shall make certain your very clever scheme doesn’t go awry, dearest one. I shall make certain we gain possession of the journal you seek, then we shall all become very, very rich.”

  If the truth of what she planned should reach the wrong ears, everything she’d worked for could be ruined. “How much do you want?”

  Horace Hubble set down his glass and gifted her with a haughty stare. “ How much? Oh, you wound me again, Gertie. Do you imagine that I came here for money? Do you think so little of me that you believe I can be dispatched with a little blunt?”

  She tossed down the rest of her whiskey and said, “Yes.”

  His laughter disconcerted her. He laughed, thumped his chest, and coughed. “Well, you’re wrong. I have a great deal at stake here, don’t y’know. And I intend to collect all of it. After all, you cannot have forgotten that I can stop your plan entirely.” He bent over and grasped his knees. “But I probably won’t. Instead I shall take command. Unless I misjudge the fella, Rossmara will not be easily broken. He won’t talk unless he wants to—or has to.”

  “We can get what we want without his ever being able to prove we were involved. He must have a secret place he guards well, and we shall find it.”

  “Aha!” Hubble pointed a short, blunt finger at her. “So you admit there’s something. It’s a journal, isn’t it? With a very surprising list of names? Secretly compiled for the very reason for which you intend to use it. Men are mentioned who would be ruined if the details in that journal were connected to them and made public. A chronicle of daring acts, so I understand. Ah, but I can imagine what titillatin’ reading it will make.”

  “You’re guessing.” She might faint at any moment.

  “Am I?” He behaved like a man in a hurry. “You know I’m not. And I know Max Rossmara will be best brought down if he doesn’t see his downfall approaching. Then, when he’s felled, it’ll be too late for him to save himself.”

  Chapter Five

  The man at her side was a stranger.

  How could that be?

  Once, once not so many years before, he’d been as familiar to her as she was to herself. Tonight he was a tall, silent, dark form who didn’t as much as glance at her.

  The rush of foolish tears to her eyes shamed her—not that Max would see them.

  He walked at a slow, almost a leisurely pace, leading his mount by the rein. Kirsty trudged beside him, carrying the small bundle of her possessions that had been hastily collected.

  She was leaving her home with this stranger, going with him to his home as if she was an orphan in need of charity.

  “I shall understand if you feel you should return to your family,” Max said quietly. “I would never try to force you to go against their wishes.”

  And what about our wishes? We made wishes, remember ? “I’m old enough to make my own decisions. I intend to become a very good assistant to ye.”

  “I’m sure you will. But I’m equally sure you won’t be happy if you don’t have your parents’ blessing—and Niall’s.”

  The night was still and warm, and heather-scented. And despite the absence of human souls upon the long hill they climbed, that night seethed as if a crowd gathered about them.

  “I’ll take you back, Kirsty. Come, let’s get you home now before there’s more hard feeing.”

  “Ye want me t’go back?” She hadn’t intended to ask him such a thing. “I’m sorry. Ye’re being thoughtful.”

  He halted and turned away from her. Gripping his horse’s saddle, he stared toward the sky. “I don’t want you to go back.”

  Kirsty pressed a fist against her breast and gulped air. “Why don’t ye?”

  “Because I don’t, dammit!” He whirled toward her. “Why don’t you understand? Why must I explain myself? I thought you had a brain worth cultivating. Was I wrong? Are you a fool?”

  Shaking her head, she shrank from him.

  “Fools.” He snatched away her pathetic bundle and dropped it at his feet. “I’m surrounded by fools who know nothing about me and care less. I should have taken your arrogant brother at his word and faced him as a man. Perhaps if you’d seen me th
rash him to silence, you’d have believed I want you to do the job I’ve asked you to do.”

  Kirsty stepped backward. “Why did you offer to take me back home then?”

  “Because I’m supposed to be a bloody gentleman. I’m condemned to live my life in gratitude for all that I have, all that has been gifted to me. And for that I must not disappoint them. I owe them the satisfaction of seeing their experiment succeed, and I am their experiment. Damn it all,” he raged to the skies. “I am a man. A man. Do you hear me? And I want my needs to be met. Could I not have my way without question for once?” He shot out a hand and grabbed her wrist. “Why must I always consider the feelings and needs of others? What about my needs? Answer me. What about my needs?”

  Scarce able to take a breath, Kirsty forced herself to stand tall before him. “Tell me your needs, and I’ll do my best to fulfil them. I want t’help ye. I will serve ye, sir. I promise ye I’ll do my best t’lighten your load. I’ve already told ye as much.”

  “Have you?” He bent over her, bent her backward and tightened his grip on her wrist. His eyes and his bared teeth glittered. “I’ve told you what I want. I want you to work with me. At my side. I want to teach you again as I taught you before. I want to see you make the best of yourself. You’re too special to waste.”

  Had she not clutched his coat she would have fallen. “Ye aren’t yoursel’ ” she told him, gasping. “Hush now. Hush.”

  “I’m not myself?” He laughed, a loud, short laugh. “What is my sin that God makes me suffer so? Why am I doomed to appease the will of others, and deny my own?”

  “Max.”

  “Let me speak from my soul, from my heart,” he thundered. “Be silent, and listen to me. Can you hear me? Have you any idea what is inside me?”

  She whispered, “No,” but she knew the blackness others spoke of was upon him, the rage, and it frightened her.

  “No? No? You, of all people don’t feel what beats within me?” He shook her. “You were the other half of my heart, Kirsty Mercer. We shared more than most will ever share, yet you no longer know what it is that drives me close to madness?”