Lowland Romance Collection

Chapter 9

Willie Kemp stared at me over the intricate metal structure he was adding to his steam boat. “You want what?”

I repeated my words, stuttering when I realised the enormity of my request. “I want you to help me.”

Ushering me to the seat, he stood by the fire, sighing as if in deep thought. “Let me get this straight, Miss Lamont.” His voice was grave and deep, a schoolmaster lecturing his pupils rather than a man speaking to a woman who loved him. “Your aunt has ordered that you marry John Forres.”

“That is correct.” I heard the tremble in my voice.

“In doing so, your aunt is merely complying with your mother"s request.”

I nodded. My mother had indeed sent me down to Edinburgh with a plea for Aunt Elspeth to find a husband.

“And as you are a minor you are obliged to obey both your mother and your aunt.”

Again, I nodded. I could not argue with Mr. Kemp"s logic, and I began to hate him too. I felt completely alone in this city and wished desperately I was home amongst my own hills. I knew I did not belong in this grey place of regular streets and cold, mechanical people.

“So far then, Miss Lamont, you have no reason to complain,” said this man I had run to for comfort. “Now tell me, would this be a favourable marriage? Is Mr. Forres a wealthy man?”

“He is,” I said stiffly. I had not expected such an interrogation and felt my lip thrust out sulkily. Lord, but I could be a sulky puss when I wanted to, me that thought of myself as so refined.

“So, no complaints there either,” Mr. Kemp said. “So I fail to see why you are unhappy with this proposed match, Miss Lamont.” He gave a faint but infuriating smile. “Does he have two heads, perhaps? Or is he misshapen in some other way?”

I shook my head once more. “Indeed, he is a handsome enough fellow, and quite well favoured about his person as far as I can see.”

“So as Dr. Pangloss would say, "all is for the best in this best of all possible lives".”

I felt like stamping my foot in frustration if it would not have seemed so childlike. “But I don"t like the man!”

“So, your only objection is that you are not in love with him.” Mr. Kemp eventually came to what was really the crux of the matter.

“Exactly,” I agreed, pleased that Mr. Kemp, at last, appeared to agree with me. I was wrong of course.

“You do realise that most fashionable marriages are arranged in such manner, and the participants usually manage to jog along tolerably well. Your marriage will be no exception, and most people will wonder why you are making such a fuss.” When he looked down at me with his eyebrows raised in that fashion, I hated him all the more.

I do not know if I have ever felt more wretched than I did at that moment. I had left Aunt Elspeth"s house and run to Mr. Kemp"s for support and comfort, but instead, he had torn my argument to shreds and obviously thought I should comply with Aunt Elspeth"s orders.

“But I do not love him,” I wailed, completely forgetting in my misery to appear refined and dignified. Really, my dears, deep emotion can be a terrible thing. Sometimes it is far better to live life on the surface. But on other occasions, the rewards can be far greater if you explore your deeper feelings, it all depends on your personality, I presume.

“Does that matter?” Mr. Kemp continued, cruelly ignoring my distress.

“Yes!” This time I did stamp my foot as I glared at him hotly.

“Why?” That single word made me stop dead.

Why did it matter? I was being offered everything a young woman could desire. If I married John Forres, I would be mistress of a large property, with sufficient income to ensure I wanted for nothing in my life. Mr. Forres had already made it clear he would not be a demanding husband, quite satisfied with a single heir. But I did not want Mr. Forres.

“Mr. Kemp,” I kept my voice as calm as I could. “I will not marry Mr. Forres, never in the reign of Queen Dick.”

Mr. Kemp sank down until he squatted right beside me with his face so serious I knew his next question would be crucial. His words were straight to the point. “Why not?”

“Because I love somebody else,” I told him and hoped he would ask who that person might be. After our quite passionate kissing on our previous encounter, I thought the answer was obvious, but I had yet to learn that men are obtuse about such matters. Their view of relationships is quite different from ours.

“Ah,” Mr. Kemp looked away. “And does this fortunate fellow also love you?”

I looked into those deep brown eyes and told the entire truth. “I don"t know,” I said, hopelessly. “I have not asked him.” The tears came back then, and it seemed natural to drop my head on Willie Kemp"s shoulder and natural for him to put a strong arm around me.

“Then you do need somebody to help you,” Mr. Kemp said kindly, “until you find the courage to ask.”

“Thank you,” I said humbly, putting my trust in the kindness of this mechanic. It was obvious he liked me, but that was all, so how could I say it was him I loved when we were from two such different backgrounds? A man like Willie Kemp would be utterly dismayed to hear a lady could love him, for he could never give her the lifestyle she desired.

“Can I stay here for a while?” I knew at once the question was unanswerable. If Mr. Kemp agreed he would be putting himself to great inconvenience, for at that age I did not understand the economics of food and shelter. I had no idea how much it cost to feed and clothe somebody, to say nothing of winter fuel, for such things had always appeared magically for me. We were indeed a spoiled generation, my dears, and it is little wonder that so many of our class lived far beyond our means.

Mr. Kemp continued to look at me with that half smile on his face and his eyes deep brown. “Does Lady Elspeth know that you are here?”

“Of course not!” I refuted the suggestion immediately. “I told my aunt that I was going for a walk to mull things over. She has no idea that I am here.”

Mr. Kemp nodded. “I see. Well, even so, I do not think it is best for you to live with me.”

I nearly burst into tears at the disappointment. I really believed Willie Kemp would have been able to take me in, somehow, and look after me as he had on Hogmanay. “But what will I do?" Where will I go?” I was becoming frantic now. “I can"t marry that man!”

Mr. Kemp sighed with infinite patience. Having experienced his kindness, I had come to him out of the blue, expecting an instant solution and now he had rejected me. “Perhaps it would help if I spoke to Lady Elspeth myself? I may be able to persuade her that Mr. Forres is not suitable for you?”

“No!” I was quite adamant on that point. I could imagine my aunt"s reaction if a mere mechanic, however tall and handsome, arrived to speak on my behalf. “No, but I do thank you, Mr. Kemp. I shall endeavour to find another way out of my situation.” I would return home. I would catch the next stage for the north and throw myself on my mother"s mercy. Even if I had to live the remainder of my life as a spinster, I would not marry John Forres. But I wanted this man…

This very man who was speaking again. “All right. Give me a few days to find a solution, Miss Lamont. Come back a week today and I will see what I can do.”

“A week! So long! I could be married before then.” I expressed my dismay, but Mr. Kemp only shook that calm head.

“You will not be married before then. These affairs take time to arrange. There are guests to invite, a church to prepare, banns to be read, the minister to instruct, clothes and food to find…” he gave that slow smile I found so irritatingly fascinating. “No, Miss Lamont, I assure you that you will still be unwed this time next week.”

“Oh, Mr. Kemp! I knew that you could help.” Without thinking what I was doing, I rose, cupped his face in my hands and kissed him. Again, he responded but pulled away long before I was ready.

“Miss Lamont! You told me that you cannot marry John Forres because you loved another man. Think of him rather than thanking me so effusively!”

I looked at him in disbelief. Why did he not realise he was the man I loved? Did I not make myself plain enough, or did Mr. Kemp believe I kissed every mechanic I came across? What kind of woman did he think I was?

“Yes, Mr. Kemp,” I said. Remember I was only eighteen and very naïve. If only I had known Willie Kemp was playing a double game and I was caught in the middle of a very elaborate trap, I would not have been so trusting. He was truly the most devious and wicked man alive!