Mismatched with a Scottish Lady (Preview)

Chapter One: The Reluctant Debutante

All the music and laughter in the world couldn’t cheer up Lady Flora MacKenzie that night. She’d danced with what felt like an ongoing stream of apparently wealthy men, yet her brother, Lord Robert MacKenzie, the Duke of Inverness, insisted she kept on dancing. The more she danced, the more she was asked to dance. It was a cruelty, a curse that she wished to break. 

In truth, she didn’t want to be there at all. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy balls and the excitement that came with dancing and seeing one’s friends. She didn’t like the uncomfortable, expensive dresses and how her brother so desperately tried to make her visible to any man he deemed a potentially suitable husband. 

What was considered suitable wasn’t up to her, either. 

“You’ve stepped on my toe again,” the handsome duke in front of her said. 

He really was handsome, with neat blond hair and dark brown eyes. Only, he’d been entirely incapable of holding an interesting conversation and had soon chosen to speak of the weather. It was a topic so tedious that Flora considered, for a moment, permanently making herself deaf so that she never needed to discuss it again. 

The beaming smile he’d worn when they started dancing had long faded, and now, he wore the look of a man desperate for the song to end. She couldn’t blame him. She’d not made it easy for him. 

“Did I?” she asked, as if she hadn’t done so on purpose. “I’m so sorry. I can be really clumsy, you know. I’m always dropping tea cups and that sort of thing.” 

If her brother could have heard her, he would have been furious. Flora had learned that sometimes, telling a lie was beneficial. Like telling the well-groomed, perfectionist duke that she tended to break things. That was a quick way to turn him away before her brother married her off to him. 

Her father would have told her that she’d inherited that feistiness from her mother. Of course, her father had found it more endearing. 

The duke’s wish came true, and the song came to an end. He bowed, she curtseyed, and finally, she could take her leave and make her way over to the refreshments table. 

“You were stepping all over him,” her brother said, sneaking up on her. “You’ve completely scuffed his shoes. Why did you do that?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said with an amused smile. 

Her brother fought hard not to roll his eyes. Despite their grown age, they still bickered as if they were children. 

“He was awful,” she said. “And I’m tired. It really wasn’t my fault.” 

“You’re not a very good liar,” her brother accused. 

“I disagree,” she retorted. 

There weren’t many moments left when she and her brother didn’t argue. It seemed to be a normal part of their daily routine, the nature of their arguments changing every day. These days, it was largely about marriage. 

“I don’t want to have this conversation with you again,” her brother said. “You know where I stand on it, and I know you’re only trying to upset me.” 

“Please, just let me rest,” she said. “I am here as a favour to you and, until now, I have done everything that you’ve asked of me. For now, let me have something to drink and rest my aching feet.” 

It wasn’t what he wanted to hear. She could tell by the way he looked down on her, his face scrunched to show his disapproval. 

“You claim to have played along, but you’ve done everything you can to make it go wrong in your own manner,” he said. 

“You have no evidence of that,” she argued.” 

“Every man you’ve met tonight has all but run away from you when the song has ended,” he snapped. “You will not put an end to this, no matter how hard you try. You’ll turn away a perfectly good husband without even knowing or caring.” 

“I both know and care,” she stated, hands on her hips. 

She turned and tried to move away from her brother, but he followed her like a shadow, like a hungry dog after her food. For a moment, she considered breaking into a run, but she suspected that she’d done enough damage for one night. 

“What about the accent?” he asked, and she froze. 

She’d hoped he hadn’t heard it. With her back still to him, Flora swallowed. 

“What do you mean?” she asked. 

“The Scottish accent you put on when you’re really trying to scare someone off,” he said. “You do realize it isn’t only your reputation that you stand to tarnish, do you?” 

Flora sighed. “It’s only a little bit of fun,” she said. “You should see their faces when they hear it. It certainly isn’t what they expect.” 

Flora had assumed that her auburn hair and fierce green eyes had been enough to hint at her heritage. It wasn’t as if her parents had ever attempted to hide their accents, and they were still deemed important members of society. 

Her brother, Lord Robert MacKenzie, looked very much the same, only his hair was blonder. In his mind, it hid his heritage a little better, and that was something that bothered Flora greatly. When their parents had died, he had done all he could to pretend he was of pure English blood. Flora, on the other hand, was proud of her heritage. 

“Well, stop,” her brother said. “I’ll not stand here and argue with you any longer. You know where I stand on these matters, and you know the importance of attending these events. There are many more to come. It is up to you to make sure you’re successful. A lot depends on it.” 

Robert was eager to marry her off. So eager that it felt sometimes as if he might already be packing up her belongings and preparing to wave her goodbye. It was more than just their strained relationship. For Robert, a good marriage would be a smart business move. 

He wanted the perfect alliance, something to strengthen their generational wealth and improve his standing in society. It was a lot of pressure for Flora to make sure that happened. If it were up to her, she would travel the world rather than be stuck married to a pompous man of upper society who expected her to smile and be kind and attend hundreds more events just like the ball that evening. 

“Don’t test me.” Robert gave her a final warning and stomped away. 

Flora took a sip of her drink, eager to quench her thirst. It felt suddenly as if the temperature in the room had doubled and the space had halved. She looked around; all the lights and the laughter felt as if they were closing in on her. 

There were too many people, too much to look at, and she no longer knew where she needed or wanted to be. If she could only escape for a few minutes, she would be able to return and give it another shot, providing the guests with her best efforts. 

Flora knew just where to go. 

Taking one last look around the room to make sure she wasn’t spotted, she ducked out at a side door, left open for some fresh air. She’d noted the location of the stables when she’d first arrived and mapped out the route to get there. 

Her upright posture should have been a giveaway to anyone seeing her at first glance that she loved to spend time with horses. She carried her horse-riding posture with her everywhere because she spent so much of her time riding. There were some days when she believed that horses understood her better than people did. 

And she was pretty certain that she understood the horses better than she understood other human beings. Eager to run her fingers through a soft mane, she picked up the pace. The cool, fresh air was already doing her a world of good. 

No longer did she feel as if she was developing a fever, and the frustration she felt towards her brother was easing. If only sneaking out to the horses were an option at more events. 

The stables had a particular smell, all of them. She inhaled deeply and approached the first horse. With her eyes closed, she reached forward and stroked its nose. It was as if she could feel the tension breaking over her like a wave. 

“You’re probably a better dancer than that last duke,” she said softly as she opened her eyes to greet the horse. 

The horse leaned in, eager for more of her attention, and she was willing to give it. There, with the magnificent beasts around her, she felt far from her world and reality, and that was precisely how she liked it. 

“I believe it takes two to successfully complete a dance.” 

The voice came from the other end of the stables, startling her. Flora’s head turned like a whip towards it. She first saw the great black stallion, with a mane like a midnight waterfall and muscles like the Scottish strongmen. 

Then she saw the figure that groomed it. A tall, smartly dressed man with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His dark hair was neatly combed back, and his blue eyes stared at her from the darkness of the stables. He resembled a character in a book she’d read once, but she couldn’t remember the title. 

“This conversation is private,” she teased. 

“My apologies, miss,” he said with a bow of his head. “Please, extend the apologies to your horse.” 

He was witty for a stable hand. At least it made for the most enjoyable conversation she’d had that night. Flora walked over to the next horse, raising her hand to stroke his mane. 

“It isn’t my horse,” she said. “Although I’d take him in a heartbeat.” 

“Which one is your horse, then?” the man asked. 

“None of them,” she answered with a chuckle. 

Flora turned to glance back towards the manor and sighed. “I’m escaping the party for a while,” she explained. “You won’t tell anybody, will you?” 

A devilish smile broke over the man’s face, as if learning her secret was the most exciting thing that had happened in some time. She was there unchaperoned. The situation was risky to say the least. He was a stranger, and she was a woman alone. It didn’t take a genius to know that something bad could come of it. As long as she remained careful and vigilant, though, she thought she would be fine. 

“And if I do?” he asked. 

“Well, then I don’t know what I’ll do, but I’ll be very angry with you.” 

The man’s broad shoulders stretched as he groomed the giant horse. At his height, she imagined he was one of the few people capable of mounting the great stallion. 

“He’s incredible,” she said, her eyes resting on his stallion. 

“He’s the gentlest of the lot, too,” the man said. “Will do anything for a bit of affection, but don’t tell anybody.” 

“Then we have traded secrets,” she said with a smirk. 

She wandered up to them and, trusting his information, reached up so that the horse could sniff her hand. Within a second, the large creature pushed its snout against her palm, and she happily obliged. The man continued grooming without interruption. 

“Surely the party isn’t so bad?” the man asked, looking back at the manor. “The music is lovely, and the food, too.” 

“It isn’t my idea of fun,” she said. “My brother made me come here tonight, but I’d rather be doing something else.” 

“Like what?” he asked. 

“Like riding, for a start,” she said. “Some nights I ride through the tall trees on our estate and pretend that the wind through their leaves whispers. It gets rather spooky sometimes, but that is part of the thrill, I suppose.” 

The man frowned. “That is certainly an interesting pastime,” he said. 

It saddened her that the stable hand held an easier conversation than any of the men in the party, when those were the people most trained to socialize correctly. At least now she was talking about something that interested her. 

“Well, I’m sure the horses are happy for the company of such a fine young woman,” the man said. “They haven’t had anyone to converse with for a while.” 

Flora chuckled. “I don’t always talk to horses, you know,” she said. “I’m not mad.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “My evidence suggests otherwise.” 

She wasn’t sure why he would say something quite so bold to her. They might have been in an unusual situation, but she was still a lady, and he was a stable hand. Despite her witty conversation, surely the laws of manners still applied? 

She left the stallion, despite wishing to remain. Flora was in no mood to be accused of such things. She’d heard her mother accused of madness, too. How was it so strange for a woman to want to simply have an enjoyable life? 

Flora returned to the first horse she had touched and looked into its large eyes. 

“Don’t worry,” she said to it. “He didn’t mean it, I’m sure. It must be the cold air that has made him forget his manners.” 

The man stopped what he was doing and laughed. 

“I thought I noted some Scottish blood in you,” he said. “Now I see that charming Highland temper they all refer to. It is rather quick, isn’t it?” 

How dare he pretend to know anything about her? Flora had had enough. She would rather return to the party to step on a few more dukes’ toes than to remain there and have her peace disturbed by a man with no concept of social cues. 

Besides, she needed to return before Robert knew that she was missing. 

In a huff, Flora straightened her back and tilted her chin up, making her displeasure clear. The man didn’t notice her upset, so she continued, storming out of the stables, leaving with a short and audible, “Hmph.” 

Only, she hadn’t taken note of the large rope that lay at the door. She must have stepped over it upon arrival, but with her chin up and her vision focused down the length of her nose, it was out of her line of sight. 

Only when her foot snagged did she recall its position there, but it was too late to recover from the misstep, and she tumbled. It felt like an age before she hit the ground, and as its hard surface neared, she knew that all attempts to leave in a huff had failed. 

She would be nothing more than a crumpled heap of person and overpriced fabric in a moment. Already, she felt the sting of embarrassment. 

When she did hit the ground, the impact was harder than she could have anticipated. Her head met with a wooden beam obscured in the darkness outside. The pain felt as if it cracked through her skull, blinding her. 

What happened next was a mystery. The world around her went pitch black, and Flora heard only the sound of approaching footsteps, then, as her hearing failed, nothing.

 

Chapter Two: The Reluctant Heir

Lord Alexander Huxley had gone in search of refuge. Despite his parents’ best wishes, he wasn’t as ready to rejoin standard society as he’d thought. Eight years in the Royal Navy had given him a changed outlook on the world. 

It didn’t matter how much he wished he could have stayed; his father’s failing health meant that he had no choice but to resume his duties as the heir to their estate and his father’s title. However, the more the days passed, the more he felt out of his depth and far from a life he had become comfortable with. 

His suit had quickly constricted him. Women’s eyes, peering out from fans and constant chatter, had threatened to send him over the edge. So, he’d escaped to the stables. Only, he wasn’t as alone there as he’d hoped. 

Grooming Shadow was one of the few tasks he had that truly calmed him down. As he brushed and smoothed Shadow’s hair, the more he felt as though life had become manageable. He would have to return home and tell his parents that he hadn’t danced with a single woman that night. 

It was going to be yet another argument added to their ever-growing string of arguments. With his father’s death nearing, his mother wanted a wedding. She wished them both to see the happy ceremony and for his father to pass over to the other side, knowing that his estate was in suitable hands. 

But Alexander wasn’t ready for marriage yet. He was barely ready to return to his normal life after leaving the Navy. It was illness that put him back on talking terms with his father. Before then, he lived perfectly happily without contact. 

While the woman who joined him in the stables sounded and behaved like a well-raised English woman, she had a certain disposition to her that couldn’t be classified as anything other than Scottish. Her auburn hair and stormy green eyes were the first clue. 

Her quick wit and fiery attitude were the second clue. 

He should have left upon her arrival. A man and a woman alone in a dark stable without a chaperone was a quick way to create a scandal. Yet, something kept him there. She interested him. 

It was odd to Alexander that two people, both trying to escape the same evening, found each other in the same place. He had just started to enjoy her company when his short quips sent her storming off. 

For a moment, he’d considered going after her. It crossed his mind to apologize and bring her back so that he wasn’t alone for the rest of the night. Only, she wasn’t pleased with him, and a displeased woman didn’t make for good company. 

He had enough arguments in his day as it was and didn’t need another. 

Alexander tried to wave her goodbye, feeling foolish when he remembered that she had her back turned to him. He might have turned his gaze back to Shadow, but he couldn’t pull his eyes away from her. 

She walked with perfect posture and determination. In some ways, she might have done well in the Navy. The thought made him chuckle, and he was certain she’d heard it and likely misunderstood.

He wouldn’t see her again, he thought. That night, he intended to go home and tell his parents that he was done with attending events of that season. He would focus on taking over control of his father’s position. His parents wouldn’t be happy, but they were angry with him anyway. 

He’d just turned back to Shadow when he heard a thump. 

It was dark, but Alexander headed to where the sound had come from. It was out of place. Nothing should have thumped like that, but when he saw her heaped body on the ground, he ran. 

He saw her foot, tucked beneath the thick rope that ran across the floor at the door. Her head, it seemed, had hit the wooden beam just on the other side of the path. 

“Miss?” Alexander asked, his voice tight as he raced to her side. 

There was no response. 

Alexander reached forward and gently pushed her, hoping that the motion might awaken her somewhat. It was no use. 

He held his hand beneath her nose and felt the steadiness of her breath. Then, he raised her hand and pressed his fingers into her wrist. He closed his eyes and counted the beats of her heart. Also steady. 

Alexander let out a sigh of relief. She was alive, and she would be alright. However, no amount of prodding and calling would wake her up. Her pale skin was mottled with mud, her dress soaked in dirt. From beneath her auburn hair, he could see a spot of blood forming, growing with each passing second. 

She needed to see a physician and soon. If he remembered correctly, there was a physician in attendance. So, he needed to get her back to the manor. The lady had a small frame, so he would be able to lift her easily, without waking her. 

“That is a nasty blow,” he said to himself, pushing aside her hair to take a better look at her wound. 

It was small, but badly placed, and so the bleeding continued. He reached for his handkerchief and pressed it to the bleeding spot until it stopped seeping. Much of her was covered in mud. Alexander knew how it would look when he walked in with her. 

Neither of them was meant to be out there. She was unchaperoned and injured, and he would have to take her into the crowd to get her the help that she needed. He ran for his jacket, still hanging on the stable doors. 

Lifting her upper body, he wrapped her in it. Her skin was cold from the mud. It did not cover up all the mud. If she was angry with him before she knocked herself out, she would be furious with him when she finally woke up again. 

There was nothing else to do. 

So, lifting her into his arms, he rose with her and started the walk back towards the manor. With each step, the reality of the impending scandal became clearer. What bothered him most was that she had no say in the matter. 

Her eyes were still closed, and she breathed heavily, peacefully unaware that she was being walked into a potentially life-changing situation. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he walked. 

The first to see him were servants. They rushed with their trays, nearly dropping them at the sight of what they’d seen. They pressed themselves against the wall, their eyes wide and worried as they watched him pass on his way to the manor. 

He heard them whisper among themselves, making a mental note to read the scandal sheets the next day for an idea of what had happened. 

“Please, bring some water,” he said desperately. 

Did they not see that she was in trouble? That was precisely what bothered him so much about London society. They would overlook desperate situations, those outside of their control, and focus only on how things made them appear. 

That was why so many people were in bad marriages, why so many children faced unhappy parents. It was about appearances and wealth, rather than a union that actually worked. 

Two party guests, out for a breath of fresh air, saw him coming. One gasped, touching the arm of the other one, who turned her head, her eyes stretching wide at the sight. Alexander pressed on as he struggled up the pathway. Nobody stopped to offer help or to ask what happened. Instead, the two ladies rushed off inside to tell the crowd what they had seen. 

With each step, they became the gossip of London. 

He pushed through the French doors with flair, having no choice but to kick them open. The room fell into a stunned silence. The sound of fans snapping closed and quiet gasps filled the room. The music stopped, and with it, so did the dancing. 

All eyes were on them. 

A man on the far end of the room with auburn hair and the same striking green eyes scowled when he saw the figure of the woman in Alexander’s arms. He pushed through the crowd. 

“Excuse me,” he said sternly. “I need to get over there. Please, that is my sister.” 

He kept his head bowed as he moved, as if her injury had caused him great embarrassment. 

“She needs some help,” Alexander said, looking around the room for the man he knew to be the physician. Only, the physician’s face seemed missing from the crowd before him. “She has fallen badly.” 

“Where was she?” her brother asked. 

“At the stables,” Alexander answered. “She is bleeding from her head, but I have stopped the bleeding. Her breathing is steady, but she remains unconscious.” 

The servants he had seen earlier returned with a tray and two glasses of water, as he had requested. A room full of stunned faces remained motionless. While he knew it had only been a few seconds, it felt as if it had been an eternity.  More attention had been paid to his appearance upon arrival while ignoring the fact that there was an injured woman in need of help. 

“Lady Flora MacKenzie?” Alexander’s mother asked. “What has happened to her? What was she doing at the stables with you?”

The last question came out so quietly that only Alexander and Lady Flora MacKenzie’s brother could hear what she’d asked. He glanced at her brother, his jaw set with fury and an insinuating look in his eyes.  

Explanations would have to wait until later, but already, he could hear the muffled conversation in the room. 

“Lady Flora MacKenzie with Lord Alexander?” one woman whispered. “What an unlikely pair.” 

It was precisely that sort of gossiping conversation they’d both been trying to avoid when they’d sought out refuge at the stables. 

Another man stepped forward, one that Alexander remembered to be the Duke of Westbury. He thrust his body between Alexander and the crowd as if to obscure them from view. 

“Perhaps this sensitive matter is better handled in another room,” he said, reaching for Lady Flora MacKenzie’s limp body. 

Alexander stepped away from him. He knew of the duke’s reputation to make himself the hero, to step in at the last minute and take the credit. Lady Flora MacKenzie deserved better than to be nothing more than a spectacle. 

“I’ll not be leaving her until I know she is safe,” Alexander said. “I’ll set her down here until the physician arrives. Have you seen him?” 

The duke shrugged. “He stepped outside for some fresh air.” 

Alexander kept his eyes fixated on the duke, quiet anger towards them all slowly rising in his chest. 

“Will you be so kind as to go and find him and bring him back?” Alexander asked. What followed was said in a quieter tone. “This woman needs help. She is a real, breathing woman, in danger. Do your duty as a gentleman and a citizen and help me help her.” 

He pushed past the duke and set Lady Flora down on a nearby settee. Her mother and brother were there at her side. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” her brother said, turning to them. “We have this under control. Do not let this ruin your evening!” 

The orchestra struggled into a new song, easing the crowd back to their party. However, Alexander was sure that the tone of the conversation had drastically changed since he’d last set foot in the room. 

“Honestly, I can’t seem to exert any control over her,” her brother said, frustrated. 

“You can be lucky I was there,” Alexander said. “Who knows what might have happened if I weren’t? It was dark, horses could have trodden on her …” 

“Yes, and … why were you there?” her brother asked. 

Alexander swallowed back his fury. It wasn’t her brother’s fault that he focused on the wrong things. He’d been raised in the same society as Alexander. Only, being in the navy, Alexander had seen more of the world and understood better how little those things truly mattered. 

Then again, he also understood that in the city of London, appearances meant everything. 

“I was escaping the noise,” Alexander said. “I suspect she was doing the same.” 

Her brother rolled his eyes. “If only she would listen for once. I knew she would get herself into this sort of trouble one day.” 

The physician arrived, and Alexander finally stepped aside. He was the only person he trusted to come near her and to decide what was to come of her. The physician did all the initial steps that Alexander had taken. 

“She needs to get to a bed immediately,” the physician said. “She’ll wake up, but she’ll be confused and likely feel ill. Lady Flora MacKenzie’s womanly body is not equipped to recover easily from such an injury.” 

The host of the party quickly arranged a room for her. Alexander motioned to pick her up, but her brother stopped him. 

“You’ve done quite enough, thank you,” he said. 

“I’ll take her,” the physician said, lifting her into his arms. 

Alexander wanted to follow. He was stronger than the physician and, if she fell again, he wasn’t sure that she’d be quite so alright then. However, he knew when he needed to stop, and one glance at her brother told him that taking another step in her direction was a bad idea. 

He took the glass of water and sipped it. His white shirt was blotched with mud that had transferred from her unconscious body. Alexander kept a close eye on her until they were out of sight, his stomach in a tight knot. 

By tomorrow, both their names would be spoken in every household as word of what had happened spread. Except that it would be only he and Lady Flora MacKenzie who knew the truth. The rest of London would thrive on pure speculation. 

“Thank you,” her brother said. “We’ll not take up any more of your time. I’m sure you’d like to get home and clean up.” 

“If it is alright with you, I’d like to stay until she wakes up to make sure she is alright,” Alexander said, making sure his tone made it obvious that it was less of a request and more of a demand. 

“My name is Lord Robert MacKenzie,” her brother said with a stern look in his eyes. “Who might you be?” 

Alexander brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Of course, yes, I’m sorry,” he stuttered. “I am Lord Alexander Huxley. It is a pleasure to meet you, only I wish it were under better circumstances.” 

Lord MacKenzie pursed his lips. “Indeed,” he agreed. “By morning, this will be gossip all over London, and my sister’s reputation will come into question. In fact, it might just be ruined completely, along with her chances of a successful marriage. It is a mess greater than the stains on your shirt or the mark on her head.” 

Alexander swallowed hard. He was part of that mess. As a man, he could recover. For Lady Flora MacKenzie, it meant total ruin.