Kirstin turned to O'Brien and cast some of her reflected glory his way. "With the exception of the members of the royal family, I am now the premier hostess in London." Kirstin was so pleased with her success that she glowed almost as brightly as the diamonds she wore. "You should be proud of me for discovering a way to increase my stature in London society." O'Brien winced at Kirstin's thoughtless comment and braced himself for the explosion he knew was coming.
"Proud of you?" Adam was seething, but he kept a smile plastered on his face and spoke to his sister through clenched teeth as he lifted two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter's tray. He handed one to his sister and kept one, leaving O'Brien to fend for himself. "You want me to be proud of you for tricking me into coming to London? And for worrying me half to death, just so you can increase your stature in London society?"
Kirstin squeezed out two perfect tears and allowed them to glisten on her eyelashes before she blinked them away. "I didn't work so hard to become the premiere hostess in London lor my benefit alone," she told him. "I did it for Marshfeld and for you as well."
Adam took a long swallow of champagne. "Would you mind explaining how you came to that conclusion?"
"Marshfeld wishes to move in higher circles. Several members of his club have asked him to join them in forming a company to buy and sell forests and mines in other countries. As his wife, it's my duty to help him in any way I can."
"Really? In exchange for what?" Adam whispered. "His promise not to hit you again?"
"He only hit me once."
"He didn't hit you, Kirstin. He beat the hell out of you."
"He lost his temper."
"So what?" Adam demanded. "I lose my temper. Murphy loses his temper. But we don't go around beating women."
"You're not married."
"And you shouldn't be either, if you think marriage gives your husband the right to beat you."
"But it does, Adam. I belong to him."
"You belong to yourself. He belongs in hell and that's where he'll be if he touches you again in anger."
"He won't, Adam. He's changed. He promised he wouldn't hit me again." Kirstin told him what she thought he wanted to hear, but she couldn't bring herself to look her younger brother in the eyes. "He's been so nice to me since the prince began to take an interest in me."
"What prince?"
"Prince Victor of Karolya," Kirstin replied. "He and Marshfeld have business together."
"Christ, Kirstin, you're married. Don't start anything with a prince," Adam warned. "He'll be worse than an English lord. And don't think he'll give you any more consideration than Marshfeld. Because he won't."
Kirstin shrugged her shoulders. "The prince is very nice. A due gentleman." She lifted her chin a bit higher, smiled at Adam and deliberately changed the subject. "My friends are so excited to have you here. Is it true that you're planning a preview of your lodge during Regatta week?" "Where did you hear that?" Adam demanded. Kirstin ignored his question and asked one of her own. "Is it true? Because I'm so looking forward to seeing it."
"You won't be seeing it," he told her. "It's a gentleman's club. No women allowed."
"Adam!" She nearly stamped her foot in frustration. "All right," he said. "I'll make an exception for you because you're my sister." He glanced at Kirstin and then over at Marshfeld. "But be careful, Kirstin. I hope Marshfeld's changed, but I don't think he has. A polecat doesn't change its stripe. The only reason he isn't hitting you is because he has more reason to fear me than he can find to hit you. But make no mistake about it, Sis, if he ever feels he no longer has reason to fear me, then you'll become the target for his anger once again."
Kirstin's eyes flashed fire at him. "Despite what you may think of me, Little Brother, I am not an imbecile. Whether you know it or not and whether you like it or not, you need these people."
Adam glanced at the ladies and gentlemen milling around the room. "I need these people?" He lifted his eyebrows at her. "Unlike Lord Marshfeld, I won't need to marry for money in order to keep myself in the manner to which I've become accustomed."
"That may be true," she shot back, "but you are in the process of renovating a hunting lodge in the wilds of Scotland. And if you want to have paying guests when the lodge opens, you need to cultivate a few of the most influential people here tonight."
"She got you there, boyo," O'Brien butted in. "Stay out of this," Adam warned.
"And another thing ..." She smiled brightly as Lady Car-stairs walked by. "I don't need you to remind me that my husband married me for your money, Adam McKendrick. I may not have known what kind of man Marshfeld was when I married him, but I know what he is now."
Adam reached down and lifted Kirstin's chin with the tip nl his finger so he could look her in the eye. "Do you love him, Kirs?"
"I did once," she admitted. "I don't now."
"Then why do you stay with him?" Adam didn't understand.
"Because he's my husband and I stood in a church and promised I would," she said. "For better or worse."
Adam smiled at the childish simplicity of her statement. "I don't believe God expects you to put your life and health at risk in order to keep a promise to a man who hasn't kept his promise to love and cherish you."
Kirstin looked stunned. As if that idea had never occurred to her. "Do you really think so?"
He nodded. "Yes, I really do."
She smiled. "Except for Marshfeld's temper, I like my life here, Adam. I dreamed about living like this all my life." She glanced around the glittering drawing room. "I won't allow him to hit me again—ever. But I will fulfill my obligation as Lady Marshfeld—including inviting the famous Bountiful Baron to my party."
"Understood." Adam nodded. "And I'll play along for tonight. But watch yourself. Don't be like the little boy who cried wolf."
Her eyes widened in surprise.
"He lied and cried wolf to get attention so many times that the villagers didn't believe him when a wolf did appear."
"I don't have to worry about that," she replied in a haughty lone of voice. "Because the Bountiful Baron never refuses a woman in need."
"Where did you hear that nonsense?"
"In the First Installment of the True Adventures of the Bountiful Baron: Western Benefactor to Blond, Beautiful, and Betrayed Women," she said with a smirk.
"Don't believe everything you read," Adam retorted. "Even the Bountiful Baron gets tired of being used."
"I'm your sister," Kirstin reminded him. "And you love me."
"You're my sister," Adam agreed, "and I love you dearly.
“But," he teased, "I have three other sisters who all look like you. I'm not likely to miss the most troublesome one."
Adam kept his word to his sister. For the rest of the evening and long into the night, he acted the part of the perfect gentleman guest of honor. He listened to a Miss John-stone sing arias from the latest opera and escorted a Miss Cald-well into the midnight supper. After supper he and Murphy donned smoking jackets and joined Marshfeld and a dozen other gentlemen in the smoking salon, where conversation centered on politics and business and fox hunting as well as a dash of society gossip.
As much as he hated to admit it, Kirstin had been right. He did need these people to help make the lodge a success. These men were the power behind the Crown. They were the leaders of government and industry, and Adam hoped that in a few months, they would be making Larchmont Lodge a favorite stop during the Season. "McKendrick."
Adam glanced over as Lord Bascombe sat down beside him. "Bascombe."
"It's a pleasure to see you again," Bascombe said. "I've heard that you've decided to stay at the lodge."
"Yes."
Bascombe shuddered. "I assume you received my note and the keys to the place and that you found everything in order?"
"The keys arrived safely tucked inside your letter, and everything was exactly as you've described it. Except the staff in residence—" Adam smiled. "The staff came as a surprise."
Lord B
ascombe's smile mirrored Adam's. "If there was a staff in residence, it comes as a surprise to me as well. All of the permanent staff of Larchmont Lodge except Gordon Ross was pensioned off two years ago."
"I telegraphed Ross before I arrived and asked him to begin hiring a staff," Adam told him. "Was he successful?"
Adam nodded. "He hired his sister, Isobel, as housekeeper and her husband, Albert, as butler."
"So Isobel has returned home from Karolya," Bascombe said. "I'm glad to hear it. She's always loved the lodge. She'll take very good care of it."
"She already is," Adam replied. "Tell me, sir, how long was the lodge in your family?"
"Since the reign of Queen Anne. But it wasn't a lodge then," he said. "It was the home of Clan Moray. The earl of Moray was my grandfather."
"Your mother was Scottish?"
"Aye," Lord Bascombe said in his best Scots burr. "A Highland Scot."
"And she married an Englishman?"
"No, she married a Scot from Edinburgh whose family lands lay on both sides of the border," Lord Bascombe explained. "And what of your heritage? McKendrick is a Scottish name, is it not?"
"The surname may be Scottish, but my father was an Englishman."
"And your mother?"
"My mother was born in Sweden. She immigrated to Kansas from Stockholm as a young bride. Three years later she was I widow with four small daughters."
"Four?"
Adam chuckled. "That's right. I have four sisters. My mother is rather extraordinary. She's given birth to two sets of twin girls."
"Then Lady Marshfeld is a twin?"
"Most definitely. Astrid and Erika are the oldest, then Greta and Kirstin. Lady Marshfeld's twin lives in Kansas on a farm near my mother's."
Lord Bascombe did some quick mathematical calculations.
Your father must have died before you were born."
"No," Adam corrected. "My sisters' father was killed in a farming accident. My father met and married my mother while he was visiting America as part of his Grand Tour."
"He settled with your mother in America?"
Adam shook his head. "He returned to England before I was born. He later dissolved his marriage to my mother and married someone else."
Lord Bascombe cleared his throat. "I'm sorry."
Adam frowned. Lord Bascombe was the second person in as many days to express his sorrow over the fact that he had grown up without a father. "Don't be," he told the older man. "As you can see, I've done quite well for myself."
"You are a credit to your father's name." Adam met Lord Bascombe's gaze.
"I didn't work to accomplish everything I've accomplished so I would be a credit to my father's name. As far as I'm concerned, he's the bastard, not me. I don't give a damn about being a credit to his name, I just want to be a credit to mine."
Lord Bascombe seemed momentarily taken aback, but he looked at Adam and nodded in agreement. "Quite right." He snipped the end of his cigar, lit it, then inhaled and slowly expelled the smoke. "Your sister, Lady Marshfeld, mentioned that you've been renovating the lodge?"
Adam welcomed the change of subject. "Nothing major," he said. "The structure was sound. The roof over the servants' quarters leaked, so we replaced it. We also rearranged the women's quarters, and we're installing plumbing and adding running water and water closets throughout the house."
Bascombe whistled. "That's quite an improvement. Tell me, Adam"—he paused—"may I call you Adam?" Adam nodded.
"Tell me, Adam, are you planning to take up permanent residence in Scotland, or will you be returning to America?" "I imagine I'll eventually return to Nevada in order to be closer to my mother. She's getting older, and even though my other sisters and their husbands live nearby, I don't like the idea of having an ocean and most of a continent between us." "Might there be a chance that your mother would leave her home in Kansas and join you if you decided to remain in Scotland?" Lord Bascombe asked.
Adam gave a short laugh. "It's not very likely. She may be getting older, but my mother is as independent as ever. She'll never leave the farm. It's the only thing she's ever had that belonged solely to her. She will never give it up and I will never try to force her. If that means returning to Kansas one day to look after her, so be it."
Lord Bascombe stared at him. "Your mother has brought up a son who would make any mother and father proud." He finished his cigar, then stood up and held out his hand. "I'm very pleased to have the opportunity to get to know you, Mr. McKendrick." He grinned. "Very glad to have lost my hunting lodge to you."
Adam stood up and shook hands with Bascombe. "Likewise, Lord Bascombe." As he shook hands with the man, Adam realized that he had finally found an English lord he genuinely liked. It was only one man, but it was a start. If Lord Bascombe's friends were anything like him, the opening of the lodge would be a success. "Tell me, Lord Bascombe, don't you feel any bitterness toward me for winning the lodge that has been in your family for generations?"
Bascombe laughed. "Not at all. I wouldn't have wagered it, if I wasn't willing to part with the place. We used to spend the hunting season and Christmas there. I preferred our house in London, so I always hated going to Scotland. To me, Larchmont Lodge was always dark and cold, and aside for the hunting, grindingly boring."
"I sincerely hope I can change that situation," Adam said, meeting Lord Bascombe's gaze. "How do you feel about the game of golf?"
"I may live in England, but I'm a Scot as well as an Englishman. I haven't golfed in years, but I was once quite good at it."
"I'm building a golf links on the grounds of the lodge," Adam told him. "And I'd like very much to have you come up and try it out one day."
Lord Bascombe clamped Adam on the shoulder. "Adam, my lad, I'd be delighted."
Chapter 20
The Bountiful Baron always maintains his control, neverr betraying his anger, disappointment, or discomfort.
—The Second Installment of the True Adventures of the Bountiful Baron: Western Benefactor to Blond, Beautiful, and Betrayed Women written by John J. Bookman, 1874.
“Thought Lord Bascombe had a reputation for being an Englishman of few words," O'Brien commented as he and Adam shared breakfast just after daybreak the next morning.
"I suppose so," Adam replied, slathering a slice of freshly baked bread with jam before taking a sip of his coffee. "Why?"
"You and he spent a great deal of time huddled in the corner of the smoking salon last night talking." O'Brien attacked a rasher of bacon, four scrambled eggs, and half a loaf of bread.
Adam looked up at his friend and grinned. "Jealous?"
"Yer bloody right I'm jealous!" O'Brien retorted. "I had to listen to Marshfeld trying to impress the likes of Lord Carstairs and that dunderhead Viscount Shepherdston while you and Bascombe seemed to get on famously." O'Brien shot him a dirty look. "What was he doing? Trying to talk you into letting him buy the lodge back?"
Adam shook his head. "He doesn't want it back. He had heard I was renovating the place, and he was interested in what I was doing."
"And you gave him a detailed report," O'Brien guessed again.
"I summarized," Adam said. "We talked of many things and .. ."
"And?"
Adam gave another little laugh. "Everything I've learned about Bascombe would lead me to believe that he's smart enough to hang on to his estates."
"Yeah, that puzzles me, too."
"And as surprising as it may sound, I like him, Murph. And so will you."
"When will I have the opportunity to make his acquaintance?" O'Brien asked.
"Sooner than you might think. I invited him up to play golf as soon as we finish building the links."
"Bloody hell, Adam! We're already up to our necks in foreign servants who look down their noses at me for being Irish and you for being a provincial American, and now you want in go and invite Englishmen—the most arrogant bastards who ever walked the earth!"
Adam shrugged. "I liked Lord Bascombe. I didn't find h
im to be arrogant."
"Well, good for you," Murphy retorted. "But if you don't mind, I'll reserve judgment. Who was it that told his sister last night that a polecat didn't change its stripe?"
"Guilty." Adam raised his hand. "Do you think I was too hard on her, Murphy?"
"No," Murphy answered honestly. "You were a bit more blunt than you probably should have been, but Kirstin is a headstrong young woman. She was wrong to have lied in order to get you down here or to use you for her personal glory."
"She used me to show off for her friends." Adam was still angry about that. But anger was no excuse for cruelty, and he was afraid that he'd been deliberately cruel to Kirstin, who, I though selfish and thoughtless, wasn't normally malicious. "I should have showed more understanding. I should have kept my temper and my patience. I know Kirstin. . .." Adam poured himself a second cup of coffee.
"We both know Kirs—Lady Marshfeld—and we both know she could try the patience of a saint."
"Yes, but I grew up with her. I know her strengths and weaknesses. She can't help being drawn to the cream of society any more than a moth can help being drawn to the flame. I love my sister, but that doesn't make me any less angry with her. Still, it was thoughtless of me to remind her that her husband married her for my fortune first and her charms second."
"It didn't hurt to remind her," Murphy said. "Marshfeld wears a layer of polish, but he's a savage underneath." O'Brien waited until Adam finished his coffee before asking, "Are we going to wait for Lady Marshfeld to come downstairs so you can apologize to her, or are we boarding the morning train and returning to Scotland?"
"We're going back to Scotland." Adam pushed his chair back from the table and stood up.