Page 4 of The Widow Wore Plaid

Her mind in a muddle, Jane hung her head. She’d like their lives to go on as they had these past months, free and easy, spending each day in the other’s company, their nights in each other’s arms. Pure bliss for her. Unfortunately, being a man with a title, Kinellan needed to move forward and quickly.

“Kinellan needs an heir, you know, Jane.” As though she’d read Jane’s mind, Fanny voiced the primary reason hers and Kinellan’s relationship was doomed to change. “If he is now reluctant to wed you . . . Are you taking the seeds I told you about?”

Jane nodded. “Faithfully. They have worked amazingly well. Fortunately, they are plentiful here in the highlands. I have just harvested enough to last me through the winter.”

“Well, throw them all away, my dear.” Fanny grinned at her. “Once you stop taking them, a child will surely follow, usually rather quickly. If you are increasing, Kinellan will absolutely propose to you again.”

Shaking her head vigorously, Jane reared back on the sofa. On this point she would be adamant. “I refuse to trap him into marriage, Fanny.” She rose to her feet, needing to move before she suffocated. “Even if he wants an heir, he may no longer want one from me.” She’d swear Kinellan had not grown cool toward her. They were as cordial, loving even, as ever. Still, she’d not marry a man whose affections she no longer engaged.

The butler, Grant, entered the room without warning. “Lady Maria Granger, Mr. Hugh Granger, Miss Arabella Granger.”

“Maria!” Jane sped toward her other cousin, with whom she’d gone through so much last year. “It seems an age since the wedding. How are you, my dear?” She hugged the younger woman fiercely, then looked up to find Mr. Granger smiling at her. “How are you, Hugh? Arabella? I’ve missed you all.”

“We are all fine,” Maria managed to answer before she was engulfed by the rest of the Widows’ Club. Former widows to be exact. All except Jane.

“Maria, so good to see you.” Charlotte rose to buss her cheek.

“My dear,” Fanny said, hugging her. “I see you are increasing after all.”

“And looking so well, despite the long journey.” Elizabeth smiled at her friend, then turned to Hugh and his sister. “Mr. Granger, so nice to see you again as well, and you, Miss Granger. Did you enjoy your Season in London? Should we expect an announcement at the ball this evening?”

Her handsome brother stepped forward as Arabella’s face clouded over.

“Thank you, Lady Brack, but my sister and I found the London Season a bit daunting. Maria was a great help, but as we have few connections, the invitations to the most advantageous entertainments were less plentiful than many young ladies’.”

Grasping her hand, Maria turned her aside. “Oh, Jane, Bella could have benefitted so much from your sponsorship, for you know everyone in London.” Maria lowered her voice. “Worst of all, we were not able to secure vouchers at Almack’s.” Her face grew grim. “I suspect it had to do either with the scandal about Alan or all the fuss Lord Wetherby put up after Christmas, which was only a tempest in a cream pot after it became apparent I wasn’t increasing.” She beamed at Jane and took her husband’s arm. “Until now.”

“I am so happy for you, Maria.” Jane’s wishes were as sincere as possible. She, if anyone, knew how long Maria had waited to marry Hugh, understood too that they had to postpone beginning their family to scotch the scandal Wetherby instigated. “Congratulations, Hugh.” She sent him a warm smile, then had to turn away from the happy, chattering throng.

Everyone seemed happy, content, and increasing. Except her. And it was her own fault. She too could have been married and likely pregnant as well, if only she’d not enjoyed her freedom quite so much these past years. Her independence had become so precious to her, she was more than reluctant to give it up. Despite her earlier misgivings, she would still need to search her soul long and deep to determine if her independent life was the one that would make her happiest.

The chattering of her friends faded into the background. How different her life would be from all her friends’ lives, from most women she knew, without a husband or small children to raise. Her two youngest were already seven and eight. They would need a tutor and governess soon. The two oldest were at school. They would go to university and then make their way in the world. Jane had been a more absent mother than most, due to Tark’s insistence she not coddle the boys, especially when they were young. Of course, she’d also been needed by various family members in Town or at Theale’s country estate or at numerous military entertainments. Therefore, she’d gotten used to the absence of her children.

Seeing her friends with close ties to both husbands and children—she’d only had one fleeting glimpse of Georgie as she hurried to the nursery with two-month-old Catherine—she began to wonder if she would, in fact, come to regret the decision to turn down a new life with Kinellan and children she could raise and spoil amid the beautiful, wild Scottish Highlands. Such thoughts inevitably brought her back to the question: Was such a life reason enough to give up her independence and marry again?

* * *

The imposing ballroom at Castle Kinellan, originally the keep’s Great Hall, was a focal point for the castle by dint of its sheer size alone. Tonight, draped in the red and green of the Seton plaid, with dozens of blazing sconces ringing the room and four massive chandeliers—alight with myriad beeswax candles that gave off light, heat, and a faint aroma of honey—the elegant ballroom seemed to meld with the ancient meeting place for clan in a way that made Jane better understand the solemn ties of family. That she was being invited to become one of them was not lost on her either.

The hall had impressed Jane from the day of her arrival two years ago, when Kinellan had invited her for the grouse hunting. The gray stone walls were worn almost smooth from the centuries of bodies pressed against them, like hers was right now. Oh, she was ostensibly watching the dancers, but in reality she looked for Kinellan.

She’d seen him at dinner, but only from afar. Tonight they observed the order of precedence, so Aunt Prudence sat in the place of honor on his right, while Georgie and her husband, the Marquess and Marchioness St. Just, were seated on his left. Jane hoped to catch her friend at some point, tonight or in the next few days, to have a comfortable coze before the new mother’s instincts got the better of her and she hid herself away in the nursery.

Jane herself had been seated more than halfway down the huge table, between Lord Angus Dalrymple, Fiona’s father, and Lady Alice Braedon. Both made pleasant conversation, but she wished to be able to speak to Kinellan, although exactly what she would say to him was still unclear.

After dinner, Fiona, still acting as hostess, had risen to signal not the withdrawal of the ladies, but the beginning of the annual ball. Jane had hoped Kinellan would escort her in, but he offered his arm to his aunt, which of course was only fitting. As Kinellan turned his back on her to lead his kinswoman into the ballroom, a sense of loneliness overwhelmed Jane, making her feel an outcast where once she’d imagined herself mistress.

Now she’d become a wallflower, enduring long minutes of waiting for her beau to request the pleasure of a dance. Her beau? Was that what Kinellan was? What she wanted him to be? Perhaps she should reassess her options. Did she wish to continue her close association with Kinellan, without an understanding that the relationship would become a true marriage in time? Indeed, would he agree to such an arrangement? If she was so unsure of her desires, not for Kinellan—those desires were all too clear every time she looked at him—but for freedom, would it be better for both of them if she simply left at the end of the gathering? Repair to Cranwell Park and discover exactly what she wished to do with the rest of her life.

As always, deep in her heart an ache began at the very thought of leaving Kinellan. They had been apart for almost eight months last year while she had supported Maria through the birth of her child and the rigors of discovering her inheritance. She and Kinellan had finally met again just before Christmas and their reunion had been as passionate as any she could have hoped for. They had been together in London for several months, the happiest time she’d spent with him.

As soon as the weather broke in March, however, he’d been called back to the castle on business. Meanwhile, she’d settled the children at Cranston Park where they could be well taken care of without burdening Kinellan with their care. The move had taken longer than anticipated so two more months had passed before she’d finally been able to travel to Scotland. By the time she’d arrived at the Castle Kinellan, she’d been seeking the same solace with Kinellan that she’d found with him in London. He, instead, had insisted on proposing to her every time he got her alone. The entire first week she couldn’t meet him in the hall that he wasn’t dropping to one knee, or grasping her hand at the breakfast table and gazing into her eyes.

Perhaps he’d expected her to agree to marry him immediately and been shocked by her refusal. The idea of marrying Kinellan hadn’t exactly crossed her mind, but somewhere deep down inside her, she’d expected never to leave the castle. Never leave Kinellan. Even now the thought of doing so was repugnant to her. So her options were narrowing with each passing breath.

Surely the servants must wonder why they did not simply marry and stop all the sneaking about in the night. Miss Dalrymple’s presence, while it observed the proprieties to a point, had not in any way acted as a deterrent to their amorous trysts these past months. Nothing seemed to cool their passion, not even the somewhat strained manner of the past few days.

There seemed to be, then, just one question she must ask herself: Could she give up her carefree widow’s life as she’d known it these past two years for the passion and love Kinellan offered her with an open heart? And if she could, was it too late?