Chapter One
Miss Fiona MacFarland stood on the dock in Greenoch and stared at her cousin Colin’s ship, butterflies dancing in her stomach. She covered the offending organ with her hands as she straightened her spine. Fear would not rule her life now.
But another voice argued back, saying this trip was far too scary and the butterflies beat all the harder. She’d never left Scotland before and certainly never been on a ship this large. Even more terrifying, she’d never been to England, and worst of all, she definitely never attempted to chase down a runaway fiancé.
She supposed he hadn’t actually run away. He’d always lived in England. At least since they’d been engaged. But she’d been promised to him for well over three years and he hadn’t even bothered to come meet her. What kind of cad did that?
He was an earl, she supposed. And as the Earl of Exmouth, he had a great many duties. Every one of his tenants sang his praises. Thanks to his business in London, they had food on their tables, and buyers for their crops. She knew he engaged in important work but still. Not one meeting?
What was more, he’d stopped responding to her letters. They weren’t much. What did one say to a man she’d never even met? But she tried.
She drew in a shaky breath.
“Ready?” Aunt Edna asked from her right, her cane thumping on the wood of the dock. “I’m not getting any younger and that ramp looks steep.”
“Apologies,” she murmured, linking her arm through her aunt’s. “I’ll assist ye.”
Her aunt harrumphed. “About time. What were ye standing there thinking for so long?”
“I was…” She paused, aware of how her aunt felt about this journey. Edna was convinced Fiona should have taken it years ago. She was also convinced that the Earl of Exmouth was the best man for her niece. “Wondering if I’d made the right choice.”
“Bah.” The old woman thumped her cane again. “That man deserves a good smack upside the head and I’ve got just the piece of wood to do it.” Then she waved her cane in the air, which nearly caused her to topple back.
“Aunty. Please.” Fiona gripped her aunt’s arm harder. Privately, Fiona was inclined to agree. The man’s behavior had caused her a great deal of worry and much public humiliation.
“Once we’ve taught him how to behave, I’m sure he’ll make an excellent groom. He did provide for us when we needed it most.” And that is where Fiona wasn’t certain that she agreed with her aunt.
In Exmouth’s defense, he hadn’t chosen her. She’d been engaged to his cousin, Earl of Exmouth the fifth. Upon the earl’s untimely death, the new earl had inherited the land, the castle, the duties, and the future wife.
The current Exmouth likely wanted her about as much as she wanted him. But Gavin, her actual fiancé, had been a wonderful man, and his mother, in a misguided attempt to protect Fiona, had strong-armed her nephew, the new Earl of Exmouth into proposing. What a mess. Just thinking about it made her head hurt and she’d lived through the terrible situation.
“Men of his class have the world at their fingertips. It’s natural that they’re a bit wild. He’ll tame.” Aunt Edna waved the cane again as they reached the top of the plank. “Ye just need to be firm with him.”
“Auntie,” Fiona cut the older woman off. She’d grown as salty as the sea in her old age. Fiona worried she was far too advanced for the journey but she had no one else to chaperone such a trip.
“Well, it’s the truth.” Aunt Edna stopped and stared at her. “What I still don’t understand is why exactly yer going. Do ye intend to collect him or break it off?”
Fiona pursed her lips. Her aunt didn’t know because she herself hadn’t rightly decided. Not that Aunt Edna hadn’t been peppering her with comments about making the marriage work. “I’m going to meet him and then make a decision.” In most of her fantasies, she told the man she’d sooner marry a goat than tie herself to him. But the truth of the matter was, she didn’t have that sort of luxury. Her dowry was inaccessible, and with her mother’s death, she’d moved into Edna’s small cottage. The cottage Exmouth had provided.
If he wasn’t her future, she’d better find a new one quickly. At three and twenty, she was fast approaching spinsterhood with no means to support herself. She needed to come up