The Devil’s Due by Boucher, Rita (free reads txt) 📗

terms of the will had been fulfilled. It was extremely likely that the bequest would have gone to Kate a month or two before Vesey had moved himself and his wife into the Steele mansion.

Kate had been pitifully easy to manipulate, believing him without question. It had been simple enough for him to gather the reins of power. She had seemed utterly without spirit, a pale, cowed doll of a woman, perfect in every way for his purposes, with a beauty that stirred his senses. With difficulty, Vesey turned his thoughts once more toward the whereabouts of that book.

The volume was lost, Vesey told himself, but somehow that possibility did not allay his fears. A vague picture formed on the periphery of his consciousness, a picture of a tiger illuminated by moonlight. He cast deeper into the pool of recollection. The nursery . . . he had seen that book of poetry on one of his forays upstairs. One of Anne’s books.

Vesey charged up the stairs, nearly knocking down the new chambermaid in his haste. He rushed to the bookcases, strewing the volumes in careless disregard as he searched for that one book. But it was not there.

The blond porcelain doll that he had given Anne sat perched upon her bed, staring at him with her green glass eyes. With a roar of rage, he snatched up the doll and dashed it into the empty fireplace.

. . .

“There, that’s the last in this bucket,” Duncan said, daubing a trowel full of pitch on the sloped roof and surveying it with satisfaction. The sound of hammers echoed across the loch. Half the village of Strathkirk and nearly every MacLean crofter was up on the roofs, pounding and repairing the ravages of time and neglect. They had come at dawn, armed with brooms and mops, hammers and pitch. “I still think that I am dreaming.”

Fred lowered the empty bucket to the ground and grinned. “The best dream you’ve ‘ad in a long time, I’d say. Seen the innards of the place yet? Daisy’s got the women in a lather, scrubbin’ and polishin’. I thought I was in the deserts of Araby, with all the dust they raised.”

“They will have to be paid,” Duncan said, calculating against the thinning contents of his purse. “Unfortunately, I can give them little beyond the butler’s grace right now, my thanks and a few coins.”

“They know you ain’t flush with the ready. Be right surprised, won’t they, when they find out you’re richer than Golden Ball” Fred chuckled.

“Aye,” Duncan allowed himself a smile as he squinted into the sunlight, almost expecting those busy figures to disappear. There was a curious tightness in his chest, a swelling of pride along with a stab of fear. He could not fail them as his family had done so many times before. “And they are doing it without any expectation of compensation, Fred. Look at them. Every single one of these people is barely scrabbling by themselves, yet they are wasting their time on this old ruin. I can barely offer them a meal when they’re done, but I shall make it up to them,” he vowed.

“Not now, I ‘ope,” Fred said practically. “Even though milady is keepin’ us fed, we’ll ‘ave barely enough to carry us through the winter.”

“Why do you keep addressing her as ‘milady,’ Fred?” Duncan asked in an undertone, looking carefully about to make sure that there were no listeners. “You know it makes her feel ill at ease, especially now. She almost winces when one of the crofters uses it. Not that I blame her, mind. It is more a pity than an honor to be known as MacLean’s lady.”

“The title is simple respect.” Fred glowered. “I’d wager every penny piece you owe me from before and till doomsday that she is a lady by right. Daisy makes use of it, even when she’s thinkin’ the two of them are private like.”

“Force of habit?” Duncan questioned.

“A long bred ‘abit then,” Fred reasoned. “In times of need, ‘tis ‘milady’ that Daisy calls for. Been around long enough to see what’s what. Makes Daisy fair to cringe to call ‘er mistress by ‘er given name. Slips sometime and calls ‘er ‘Miss Katie,’ Daisy does, but most times, ‘tis ‘milady,’ that comes when she ain’t watchin’ ‘er tongue.”

“It would fit my suspicions,” Duncan said, untying the length of rag wrapped round his forehead and wiping his brow.

“Seems to me with what we know betwixt us, we could find out ‘oo she is,” Fred suggested, dipping some water from a pail and offering it to Duncan. “Daisy won’t spill nothin’, stout lass what she is, but I ‘eard enough bits and pieces to put two together with two. Part of the twenty-ninth regiment, was milady’s father and Daisy raised ‘er. The lady’s Ma died when she were but fourteen. Been in the castle nigh on to six months. But they’re still scared, Sir, nervous as cats in the kennel and I’d like to know the why of it.”

“So would I,” Duncan agreed, looking down into the courtyard. Kate was below, drawing water from the pump. Though she was working harder than any, she was laughing and chattering easily with the other women. Attired no better than they, dressed in a simple gown, she was still as distinct as a peacock among the pigeons. The wariness that she habitually wore was temporarily cast aside. When Kate looked up at him and waved merrily, his heart could not help but skip a beat. Suddenly, he felt a smile stretching across his face.

“Got yourself a bonny lady, milaird,” Tam called, tugging on the line that held the bucket, “but mind the roofin’ laddie. The pitch’ll get cold afore ye will, I warrant.”

There was a hearty gale of mirth from below and above. Kate blushed till her cheeks nearly matched the red on the MacLean tartan. But she gave no other sign of offended dignity as she walked indoors unhurriedly with all the