Mine Is the Night A Novel

Forty-Three

Mercy to him that shows it,

is the rule.

WILLIAM COWPER



lisabeth turned toward the door as her mother-in-law ushered Roger Laidlaw into the drawing room, her tears gone and her demeanor surprisingly calm.

“Gentlemen, if you might give us a moment.” Marjory inclined her head toward the entrance hall. “Mr. Laidlaw has something to say to our cousin.”

“We cannot tarry much longer,” Lord Jack reminded her, then departed with Gibson, closing the door behind them.

The room fell silent, save the sound of the rain pelting the windows.

“Please, Bess,” Anne whispered, almost hiding behind her. “I don’t wish to speak with him.”

Elisabeth looked at the middle-aged man, his eyes downcast, his hat in his hands, and saw nothing to fear. But she was not Anne. “Marjory and I will not leave your side,” she promised, then slipped her arm round Anne’s waist and led her toward him, feeling the tension in her cousin’s body.

Marjory spoke first. “Mr. Laidlaw has confessed to me that he’s a changed man.”

A look of incredulity stole across Anne’s features. “And you believe him?”

“I do,” Marjory said. “When we are not so pressed for time, I shall tell you the whole of it. Until then, please hear him out, Cousin.” She nodded at the factor, who moved one step closer, his gaze fixed on Anne.

“Miss Kerr …” He rubbed a shaky hand across his mouth. “Whan Lord John died, I had nae richt to speak to ye as I did. To ask ye …, weel, to suggest that …”

“Enough.” Anne’s voice was rough edged. “I know exactly what you proposed to me, Mr. Laidlaw.”

“I ken ye do, mem.” He gripped his cap so tightly that Elisabeth feared the wool might never recover. “ ’Tis not the same man ye see standing here,” he said. “The Lord has done a guid wark in me.”

“Has he?” Anne did not hide her contempt. “I suppose that makes you a good man.”

“Och! I would niver say I am guid.” He lowered his gaze. “What I did was wrong, Miss Kerr, and I am verra sorry for it. Ye need not forgive me just because I ask. But I do ask.”

He looked at each woman in turn, seeking absolution.

Marjory nodded. Anne frowned.

But Elisabeth did not see dark-haired Mr. Laidlaw. She saw fair-haired Donald Kerr. Forgive me, lass. For all of it. Did men think they could simply do as they pleased, then beg to be forgiven? Was there no man who was honorable or faithful or true?

Nettled, Elisabeth edged toward the door, taking Anne with her. “Pardon me, Cousin, but we must go.”

“Indeed, our business here is finished.” Anne lifted her skirts, turning her back on the factor of Tweedsford.


By the time they reached the carriage, Elisabeth regretted their hasty departure, leaving Marjory to bid the man farewell. Mr. Laidlaw’s apology seemed most sincere and his desire to lead a new life commendable. Could she not see past her own heartache? Donald Kerr was the one who’d wronged her, not Roger Laidlaw.

With a heavy sigh, Elisabeth took her place on the cushioned leather seat of the carriage, then watched the admiral help Marjory board and climb in after her, having ordered his driver to make haste. Lord Jack removed his hat, but there was still a great deal of him to fit onto the balance of the seat.

“At least the rain has stopped.” He settled beside her. “And we’ll be heading south. If Lord Mark is en route, he’ll be coming from the north, from Edinburgh. You’ve nothing to fear, Mrs. Kerr.” He looked at Marjory across the carriage interior. “What of your own carriage ride from the capital? Was it exceedingly uncomfortable?”

Elisabeth listened as he engaged first Marjory, then Anne, then Gibson, dispelling the tension in the air with his thoughtful questions and comments. Though she’d seen other sides of the admiral as well—a flash of impatience, a moment of anger—such things were far outweighed by his warm, generous spirit.

Careful, Bess.

She looked down, studying her hands. When a woman began tallying a bachelor’s amiable qualities, thoughts of marriage were sure to follow. But she was a widow in mourning. However unfaithful Donald was, she intended to honor his memory for the full twelvemonth society required. To do otherwise would break her mother-in-law’s heart.

Her cheeks grew warm. Is it Marjory’s heart that concerns you? Or your own?

“You’ve slipped away from us,” Lord Jack was saying as Elisabeth lifted her head, hoping to cool her skin.

“Not far,” she assured him, glad the admiral could not read her mind.

How foolish even to think her employer might look in her direction, with Rosalind Murray so temptingly near. What gentleman would not choose a wealthy young lady of good breeding over an impoverished widow who might never bear him a child?

His carriage soon began the steep climb toward the East Port. Since she was facing the back of the coach, Elisabeth had to press her feet against the floor to keep from tipping too far forward and landing on Anne’s shoes.

But gravity was working against her. At the very moment Elisabeth feared she might slip from her seat, Lord Jack braced her against the cushioned back, his long, muscular arm pressing into her ribs. Mortified, she turned her head.

“We’ve managed to avoid generals and dragoons this morn,” the admiral said smoothly. “Now if we can all remain in our seats, I shall return you home without injury.”

The moment the carriage crested the hill, Elisabeth eased back into place. “Thank you,” she said softly.

“My pleasure,” he said. Even more softly.

She looked out the window as if the tradesmen’s cottages were the most interesting sight she’d ever beheld. Guard your heart, Bess.