What was he going to do with her?
Colin knew what he'd like to do with Augusta MacLeish, but then as the lady's guardian, he'd have to call himself out. Wouldn't that be awkward?
He checked on Jupiter, delighted to find him in top condition despite yesterday's accident. After he filled the water and oats buckets, he found a length of rope coiled and hung on a peg. It would do nicely for the purpose, so whistling a rather naughty sea chantey, he made his way around the castle into the forecourt.
In front of the castle, a pair of small gatehouses flanked the drawbridge. In a proper medieval castle, the wall would have run all the way around the island, making the whole thing into a fortress, but here the gatehouses were just large enough to store a few tools and the walls of the gate tapered off to the ground on either side.
The winch inside the gatehouse was, to his immense surprise, in good working order. Of course, he shouldn't have been shocked. The castle and even the stables had been meticulously maintained. It was only money that Cairnwyck had been lacking, not attention. He'd lay odds that every one of the MacLeish family did their share to keep their home in functional, if not elegant, condition.
He lowered the drawbridge then walked around to the footbridge and tied the rope across the end, blocking it off. As he walked back toward the drawbridge, he heard the sound of hooves on the lane behind him.
"Oh, look, the gate is open. Drive on, Coachman." A shrill feminine voice pierced the air. When the small gig drew up beside him though, the voice bellowed. "Halt!" and the vehicle drew to a stop.
"You there. Who are you and what, may I ask, are you doing?"
Colin looked into the gig and saw a middle-aged woman in black, with her gray-streaked hair drawn up into a knot so tight it should have made her face hurt. A black veil atop a lavender bonnet indicated half-mourning. Her thin lips were pursed in disapproval, probably at his underdressed state. It hadn't occurred to him to put on his cravat and frock coat before attending to this simple chore, so he stood there in trousers, boots and shirtsleeves, with his hair unclubbed. Blast it all.
The only way he knew to deal with snobs and busybodies was to beat them at their own game. He drew himself up to his full height and cast her his most supercilious sneer. With a sketched bow, he drawled, "Bruxton, madame, at your service. And whom do I have the pleasure of addressing this fine morning?"
"Mrs. Drummond!" Augusta must have heard their voices, because she came running around the keep, wiping her hands on her apron. "What brings you out to Cairnwyck on this fine morning?"
Colin had to suppress a smile at her unknowing repetition of his words.
"I promised my brother I'd look in on you," the woman said with a pious sniff. "Clearly I should have come sooner. Who is this...ruffian?" The woman's coachman looked for all the world like he was trying to suppress a laugh and Colin felt a surge of sympathy for the man. It had to be difficult working for this old prune.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Drummond. Please, let me present you to the earl of Bruxton, our guardian. Lord Bruxton, this is Mrs. Edwin Drummond, sister to our local vicar. Mrs. Drummond, would you like to come in for some tea?"
Colin winced at the conciliatory tone in Augusta's voice. He immediately held out a hand to the newcomer. "Delighted, Mrs. Drummond. Shall we?"
The older woman sniffed again, but she accepted his assistance to alight from her gig. Once she was on the ground, Colin immediately crooked his arm to escort her inside. He offered his other arm to Augusta, only to find she'd already run ahead to open the door.
"John, there's breakfast in the kitchen - just go in and help yourself," she called to the coachman. "You know where to tie the horses."
Oh good. They wouldn't be here long enough for the team to be unharnessed. That was the best news Colin had heard all morning. While Augusta held the front door open, Colin led the redoubtable Mrs. Drummond into the main hall of the castle.
It was clean. In keeping with the other rooms he had seen, this one had obviously been dusted and swept recently. Furnished to resemble a slightly more comfortable version of a medieval hall, it boasted four high-backed chairs sporting cushions of worn, green velvet on a dais that filled one end of the room. Matching heavy draperies covered the leaded glass windows, topped by swags of a blue and green plaid, through which only a few moth holes emitted light. A massive stone hearth sat empty and had been swept clean.
"The parlor is much more pleasant than this room," Augusta said as she skirted around them. "Don't you think so, Mrs. Drummond? Why don't we take our tea there?"
"Anything is more pleasant than this moldering cavern," the woman replied. "I can't imagine what your mother was thinking to allow it to remain so...medieval."
"I'd hazard a guess that she was trying to retain the historical ambiance," Colin posited. "It suits the castle quite nicely."
"Thank you, my lord. That's exactly right. My father gave both my mother and stepmother a free hand with the private chambers, but the great hall meant a lot to him. The MacLeishes have held Cairnwyck for many generations and this room has changed very little in all that time."
Augusta had just crossed the room and started to lead the way down a corridor when there was a loud pounding at the heavy oaken double doors. "Now, who can that be?" She ducked back around Colin and Mrs. Drummond. "No one ever visits, yet this morning I might as well be at Edinburgh Castle."
Colin watched her generous curves sway as she darted back to open the front door. The look of confusion on her face was probably matched by an expression of horror on his own. For while Augusta could have no idea of the identity of the dandy who stood in her doorway, Colin knew him all too well. For someone who'd made a career out of being a successful spy, Dare had a knack for getting Colin into trouble in real life. Even as Colin opened his mouth to speak, to possibly avoid what was about to happen, Darius glanced over at Colin and grinned.
"Glad to see you're alive, old chap. When you didn't return to the tavern last night I was a bit concerned. Looks like you managed to come out on top, though, as usual."
"Didn't...last night?" Mrs. Drummond gasped, fanning her face with the hand that wasn't clutching Colin's arm. "Dear heavens, my lord, just how long have you been at Cairnwyck? Overnight?"
"Lord Drummond had an accident..." Augusta began. "The footbridge..."
Colin shook his head. It was too late for palliatives. This old besom would have Augusta's reputation shredded within moments of returning to the village and judging by her expensive clothing, she probably had connections all the way from Edinburgh to London. Not only would Augusta be rendered unmarriageable, so would her younger sisters, all of whom were legally in Colin's care. There was only one way out of this mess and he was man enough to accept it.
"It's true, I was somewhat disoriented last evening after taking a blow to the head," he said loudly, casting Augusta a look that ordered her to follow his lead. "And Miss MacLeish was kind enough to sit up and talk with me all night until I was myself again. By that time, I'd discovered myself to have fallen utterly in love. You may both be the first to extend your felicitations. Miss MacLeish has just made me the happiest man on Earth by agreeing to be my bride."