A suitable arrangement, p.1
A Suitable Arrangement, page 1
A Suitable Arrangement © 2023 by Martha Keyes. All Rights Reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Cover design by Ashtyn Newbold.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Martha Keyes
http://www.marthakeyes.com
To all of us who have given a less-than-stellar first impression.
As for the rest of you, don’t fret. Your time will come.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Epilogue
Next in the Castles & Courtship Series
Author Note
The Castles & Courtship Series
Other titles by Martha Keyes
Acknowledgments
About the Author
CHAPTER ONE
JULIANA
Equipages of all sorts rumbled down Princes Street in a display of organized chaos. From my place on the pavement, I gazed past the carts and on to each carriage.
It was a futile exercise, for Papa had written just this morning to inform me he was yet again delayed. Despite the news, I could not help hoping to see him, for I would feel a great deal calmer making the final part of the journey in his presence. But my cousin and I had already delayed two days, and there was no telling when the officials at the port would release Papa’s long-awaited shipment of textiles, just arrived from the East Indies.
“Come along, my dear Juliana,” Augusta said. My cousin was dressed for travel, and her blond hair, shifting toward gray now, peeked from beneath her bonnet before her head disappeared into the carriage awaiting us. The carriage was loaded high with my belongings and hers—in my case, all my belongings, for I might never return home to Newcastle.
I took one last look at New Town, intrigued by how the stately, clean buildings contrasted with the ones in Old Town across the bridge. Would I have occasion to come to Edinburgh regularly in my new life? I hoped so. This town was to Scotland what London was to England, after all, attracting all of Scotland’s peers. And as the future Countess of Lismore, doors would be open to me here that, despite Papa’s wealth, had never been so in Newcastle.
Augusta’s head emerged from the carriage door, and she smiled sympathetically. “He shall meet us at Lochlarren soon enough, Juliana.”
“Of course,” I said as brightly as I could, stepping into the carriage. I settled onto the squabs across from my cousin, arranging my skirts in a way that might prevent wrinkling. I could only hope Augusta had been right to choose this particular dress. It seemed a bit too fine for travel, with its embellished bodice, large epaulets, and embroidered hems, but Augusta knew far better than I did what would be expected of a future countess.
My own experience of Society was limited to the sort of assemblies and engagements a wealthy tradesman’s daughter would be invited to frequent, and those events had simply not included peers of the realm. Of course, in our less exalted domain, Papa’s significant wealth had made us some of the most sought-after attendees, but at Lochlarren Castle, things would be different. I would be below everyone rather than above.
Augusta regarded me as the carriage pulled forward. “I am certain your father wishes he could be with us, but it is the sort of hard work he is now engaged in which has made this match possible.”
“I know it well,” I replied. “No one works more tirelessly.” And neither was anyone more deserving of the elevation my impending marriage would bring. It was Papa’s dearest wish to see me established amongst the highest echelons of society. I, too, was eager for the opportunities such a life would bring—the mere thought of being looked toward as an arbiter of fashion or an example of the best Society made my heart flutter with anticipation. But equally, I wished to please Papa—to repay him for all he had done for me through his indefatigable work. My marriage to Lord Lismore would connect him with the wealthiest investors and consumers of fine goods in the country, and he was already planning how to expand his ventures.
Town soon gave way to country, and I stared through the window, watching it all pass by. I wondered what my new home would be like—and what to expect of the people within.
“It is my understanding that the earl’s three brothers will be present at Lochlarren,” Augusta said. “You remember their names and how to address them?”
I nodded, for these things had been drummed into me for the past fortnight. “Mr. Magnus Duncan, Mr. Blair Duncan, and Mr. Iain Duncan.”
“Very good. And the earl?”
“Alexander Duncan, known by those nearest him as Sandy.” I met her look with my own mischievous one. “I prefer Sandy.”
Augusta cocked a brow at me, a stern look belied by the twitch at the corner of her mouth.
“However,” I said with impish reluctance, “I shall endeavor to remember to call him by his title.”
“I certainly hope so. If you are to marry into the aristocracy, my dear, you must play by their rules or risk being ostracized.”
My humor dissipated slightly. I had no wish for such a fate. Indeed, it was quite opposite my goal. I would continue to call the earl Sandy in my thoughts, for it made him less intimidating. He had only recently come into the earldom, for his father’s illness and subsequent death had been abrupt and unexpected. Almost as abrupt and unexpected as the arrangements for a match between us.
“I assure you, you have nothing to fear from me, cousin,” I said.
Augusta did not travel well, for she hadn’t a strong stomach, and she spent the majority of the time falling in and out of sleep. In the meantime, my mind strayed to Lochlarren Castle—or rather, to the picture my imagination had created—and to my future husband. What would he be like? Father had only ever met the late earl and could give me no descriptors of the new one but for unhelpful words like “sharp,” “reasonable,” and “business minded.”
Not that it mattered much. This was a marriage of convenience, and I was content that it be so. I had never imagined for myself a love match, but instead had been raised with a mind to furthering our family prospects. I had hoped for a title, but marrying an earl was beyond even my dreams. My head still reeled at the title I would hold: Countess of Lismore.
After hours in the carriage, we broke our journey for the night in Stirling, continuing in the morning toward our final destination: the coast of Inverness-shire. The rolling green landscape slowly gave way to dense forests and bumpy roads that jolted us from side to side. I had spent my life in town and wondered with both eagerness and anxiety how I would find the wilds of the Scottish Highlands.
We beguiled the time by reviewing the more pertinent lessons Augusta had taught me over the years—proper meal etiquette, curtsies, and matters of precedence. “You must act the part of a countess, my dear,” Augusta said, “from the moment you arrive. If they are not persuaded you are fit for the title, there is no telling how they will treat you. These aristocratic families can be quite ruthless.”
I searched her face but saw no sign of hurt or resentment there. Cousin Augusta was the illegitimate daughter of an English baron. The man had been kind enough to provide generously for both her mother and her, and Augusta had thus been brought up in Society. When she was seventeen, however, her mother died, and the baron’s support dwindled before failing altogether, leaving her in such circumstances that she was obliged to accept help from far less exalted quarters than she was accustomed to: my parents.
With no other options, she had come to live with us and, upon my mother’s death, had come to act as a governess to me at the age of five. Since achieving my majority a few years ago, Augusta had become a companion, a guide, and a sort of mother figure, even. I owed her much, and I was grateful to have her with me on this of all days, especially with Papa’s absence.
As we persevered into the depths of the Highlands and drew nearer Lochlarren, the roads became too pocked and uneven for Augusta to rest any longer. One particularly large jolt sent us both into the side of the carriage, and we assisted one another in getting resettled.
“I confess myself surprised at the state of these roads,” I said over the din.
“I fear it i s destined not to be the only surprise ahead of you, my dear.” There was a grim note to her voice as I assisted her to the middle of the seat again. “The training I have provided may not have prepared you for the circumstances you will confront at Lochlarren Castle.”
I nodded, feeling a wave of nerves and anticipation wash through me. “It is true that I have never met a peer nor been in a castle, but you have prepared me well, cousin.”
She reached for my hand and squeezed it. “I do not doubt you, my dear, for you are exemplary—when you wish to be.” She cocked a teasing brow. “But Scotland is an altogether different place than England. And the Highlands?” She looked at me significantly. “A different world.”
“But Sandy—forgive me, Lord Lismore is still an earl.”
“A Scottish earl,” she corrected.
“Are they so different from English ones?”
“They certainly can be. Lord Lismore was raised in the wild Highlands. Growing up in a place left untamed for so long, its occupants will exhibit behaviors you and I may find . . . strange. A bit barbaric, even. And with the sudden death of the late earl, too, it is entirely possible there have been or will yet be struggles for power—remnants of a less civilized time when brute strength rather than impeccable lineage determined who led the clans here.”
My eyes widened. It sounded like something from King Arthur’s days, not modern times.
“And while a castle may sound grand, you should prepare yourself for a place without many of the conveniences you are accustomed to at home.”
I thought over her words for a moment, finding in them both reason for hope and anxiety. I chose to focus on the former. “Perhaps the Duncans will be less likely to look down on me for any blunders or lapses in propriety, then.” The thought of being on my very best behavior all day, every day was a weighty one. I could comport myself admirably at a dinner party or ball, but such things always came to an end. Not so at Lochlarren Castle.
“They should not look down on you,” Augusta said. “You are their salvation, after all. Perhaps they will be all kindness and consideration—I certainly hope so—but I feel it behooves me to warn you of all possibilities. Believe me, my dear, the arrogance and entitlement of some of these old families knows no bounds. An earl and his family are allowed more leniency in their behavior because of their title, while you and I must prove ourselves again and again through our conduct and bearing. Your behavior must be unimpeachable, Juliana. Otherwise, after you are wed and your money is theirs, they may no longer see your value to them.”
I sat straighter in my seat. Augusta knew better than most what high society was capable of. She had been discarded as a young woman and naturally did not wish the same for me. Surely, she was acting overly cautious, though.
The carriage bumped and rumbled over holes and mounds, jostling every bone inside my body as we made our way down a narrow road. Finally, the trees gave way, revealing a wide-open expanse: a glistening gray lake surrounded by dense forest, and in the middle of it all, a fortress.
“Lochlarren Castle,” Augusta said softly.
I took in the view hungrily. This was to be my home. It was foreboding—tall, gray, and hard—and I prayed those within would be warmer and more inviting. Lochlarren was nothing like the home I had known. I was trading the bustle and smells of town for a secluded, stone castle almost entirely surrounded by water. Augusta’s talk of clan struggles and barbarism felt far more likely with this view before me.
“The family and servants will be outside to welcome you,” Augusta said, her tone more pressing now that the time was at hand. “Remember your curtsies and to adjust them according to the person to whom you are being introduced. Meet the earl’s eye with your chin held high.”
Leaning over, I peered through the window as the castle and my curiosity loomed larger. How many servants would they have? Would Lord Lismore’s brothers be kind? I had never had any siblings of my own, and I feared I might treat them with too much familiarity—or not enough.
“Come, my dear.” Augusta pulled me away from the window and closed the curtains. “A countess would not be too eager nor too quick to be impressed. Starting now, you must act like a Lady Lismore, Juliana, for in just over a week, you shall become her.”
I lifted my chin and pressed my shoulders down as Augusta looked on with approval. There would be plenty of time to explore the castle and take stock of my new surroundings. For now, I had a part to play, an audience to convince, and an opportunity to make both Augusta and Papa proud.
Augusta was right. I needed to look not like Juliana Godfrey but like the woman meant to be Lady Lismore. The woman I saw in my mind’s eye was refined. She was accorded the greatest of respect and deference, for that was her due.
If I could manage to portray such a person, the Duncans would welcome my arrival with open arms. Their desperation may have led them to make this match, but I had to ensure they had no cause to regret it.
CHAPTER TWO
SANDY
Billiard balls clattered behind me as I compared the most recent payment request with the ledgers before me. I rubbed at my eyes, everything blurring together.
“Come away from it, Sandy.” My brother Blair stood straight, resting the billiard cue on the faded rug which covered the floor. Magnus took his shot, which was no small feat, for his left arm was in a sling.
“You’ve been staring at those ledgers for hours,” Blair pressed.
So I had. But far from distracting me from my growing annoyance, the ledgers were only adding to it. It had taken the better part of the past few weeks to sort through the mess, and I was nowhere near being finished. The estate accounts were entirely dissatisfactory. Worse, even, than Father had given me to believe, and that was saying something.
My jaw tightened instinctively at the thought of those last moments with Father. As though his sudden death hadn’t been enough to shoulder, he had thrown on my back a host of hitherto unknown debts, along with the injunction to marry a tradesman’s daughter in order to save our family from ruin.
The long-anticipated match between my friend Nelly Cochrane and myself was no longer an option. Our family needed money too desperately. My pride was to be sacrificed on the altar of the earldom. The title that was meant to raise me in everyone’s esteem would now come by the debasing act of marrying far beneath me.
My gaze flicked to the window, covered by threadbare curtains but for a small gap, but there was no sound yet to indicate my intended’s arrival.
Iain, noticed the direction of my gaze. “Worrying she thought better of the match?” At two and twenty, Iain was the youngest of the four of us, though taller than Magnus and Blair. All of them wore black, but only Magnus, with his ever-furrowed brow, looked severe. Iain and Blair were both too good-natured to appear anything but pleasant, whatever their clothing.
Iain’s mouth quirked up at one edge as he looked at Blair. “Or perhaps she cannot read and mistook the date.”
The two of them laughed, drawing the ghost of a smile from Magnus. They had no such reaction from me. I found it difficult to laugh at such a real possibility.
“Or,” Blair added, “she decided she would rather have a duke than a measly earl. Her father could certainly afford it, and I hear Banff’s wife is ill.”
I snapped the ledger shut and stood. “You had better hope that is not the reason for their absence.”
Blair and Iain shared another look. I knew what it was: commiseration over my short temper. It had been thus since Father died. I missed joining in the antics of my brothers. Even two months ago, I might have played at billiards with them and laughed and teased, but those times were past.
