Page 68 of Marriage with a Proper Stranger

Oliver shook his head. “That is the coward’s way. Besides, feeling pain and loss lets one know they are alive.” He loved both his sons, but Garrett did hold a special place in his heart. Not only was he his true love Moira’s child, but the spitting image of her. Looking at him sometimes hurt, but on the whole it gave him comfort. As if she were still with him.

Garrett stiffened beside him. “Don’t get your hackles up, Son. You’re thirty-two years of age. It’s well past time you married and had children. Yes, it is a selfish request. I want your mother and the Mackinnon clan to live on for future generations. I want you to live on. Don’t let the line end here.”

Garrett laughed sharply. “The twins can carry the torch.” Then he sobered. “As soon as we locate Aidan and set him on the straight and narrow path.”

“What possessed him to disappear?” Oliver asked.

“He’s been drifting away from us for a long while, Da. His taste for adventure and vice could be his downfall,” Garrett replied sadly. “We’ve been close through the years, Aidan and me, but not of late. I should have intervened, given him my support. Instead I became angry and disgusted at his behavior.”

“As did we all. You feel guilty. Is that why you hired the Bow Street Runner on your own?”

Garrett nodded. “Once Riordan is straightened out, I’ll be joining Edwin in London to assist in the search.”

And here is why he loved Moira’s son so dearly: his generous heart. His capacity for love. If only he didn’t keep the curse at the forefront of his mind and allow it to control his life.

The men remained silent for several miles. “There’s the schoolhouse.” Garrett pointed to a wooden structure sitting alone in a wooded area. “The cottage is but a half mile beyond.”

They arrived, and Oliver was shocked to see how small the cottage was. Heavens, it was no larger than a woodshed. Oliver jumped from the wagon, and as Garrett saw to the horses, he knocked on the door.

It flew open. “I told you I would leave once I heard word, stop—oh. I thought you were someone else.”

This must be the companion, Mary Tuttle. She stared up at him, waiting for a reply, but Oliver was too busy drinking in her fine form. In her middle years, but still attractive. “Sorry to disturb you. Miss Tuttle, I presume?” She nodded. “I am Riordan’s grandfather.”

She arched a dubious eyebrow. “Grandfather? I find the prospect highly unlikely. You look far too young. And don’t take it as a compliment, it is merely an observation.”

A curve of a smile twisted at the corner of his mouth. “I thank you anyway. May we come in?”

She looked past him and her eyes widened. “Good God, it’s the medieval Highlander.”

Garrett stood beside Oliver. “The Highlander is my son, Garrett, and Riordan’s uncle. His mother was Scottish. May we come in?” Already he liked this woman.

She shook her head. “Of course. Forgive me.” Miss Tuttle stepped aside and let them pass, closing the door behind them. “Can I offer you tea or a bite to eat? There is stew I can heat.”

“Perhaps after we talk. Since you did not ask about Lady Pepperdon, I assume you received our message?” Oliver asked.

“I did. I’m relieved she’s been recovered. The baron is a despicable man and deserves all he gets.”

“And he will. Debtor’s prison is in his future, make no mistake,” Oliver replied. “We will see to it.” They all took seats in the tiny parlor, with Garrett’s large frame precariously perched on a wooden chair. “My name is Oliver Wollstonecraft, Earl of Carnstone. You see, my grandson’s full name is Riordan Black Wollstonecraft.”

Miss Tuttle covered her mouth in shock. “But why…”

“Why did he conceal his true identity? He wished to take his teaching position without the family name and history becoming a distraction.”

She shook her head. “Sabrina had no idea. Oh, dear. When she finds out… She cannot abide deception.”

Oliver crossed his legs. “So I gathered. Hopefully, they will work it out. Then perhaps Riordan will return to his position here with his wife.”

Miss Tuttle clasped her hands in her lap, a sad expression on her face. “I fear your grandson does not have a position to return to. A member of the education board appeared here early this morning, claiming I’m to vacate the premises by tonight. Mr. Black—I mean, Mr. Wollstonecraft—has been dismissed. ‘For abandoning his post and responsibilities.’ As if your grandson was in the army. Wretched man. He wouldn’t listen to my explanation.”

Garrett vaulted out of his chair, his fists clenched. “Allow me to find the man and straighten him out,” he barked.

Oliver clutched his arm. “Easy. Diplomacy may be better than fisticuffs. At least initially. Who is this board member and where can we find him?”

“He is Mr. Umlah, the blacksmith.” Miss Tuttle slid her gaze to Garrett. “Although he is not as large or imposing as your Highlander son.”

Oliver laughed; he couldn’t help it. How refreshing to find a woman near his own age sparking his interest. His previous affair of three years past with a young, spoiled, pampered widow of a baronet had left him empty. In the twilight of his life, he wanted to find a woman whose company he would enjoy. One he could talk to, laugh with, and, yes, have frequent sex with. He may be in his sixties, but he still experienced desire.

“Garrett, regardless of how the conversation goes with the smithy, we should gather all Riordan and Lady Pepperdon’s possessions and take them with us to the hall.”