The Capture of the Earl of Glencrae by Stephanie Laurens Read Free Book Online Page B

certain social accolade. She determined to conquer Mortimer, to wean him from his fixation with a distant English lady and make him her devoted slave. She set out to secure his love and every last iota of his attention for her own, and with her undeniable beauty, she was confident of success. She married him and happily went with him into the highlands, fully expecting to have him wrapped around her little finger if not within the month, then certainly within the year.
    â€œInstead, she discovered she couldn’t compete with Celia, and even less with Celia’s children.” He held Angelica’s gaze. “Mortimer knew every minute detail of your brothers’ lives—he knew their grades at Eton, what sports they favored, what their interests were as they matured. He knew every ailment they ever contracted. He forgot Mirabelle’s birthday if she didn’t remind him of it, but he never forgot Celia’s, or Rupert’s, or Alasdair’s. Assuming it was the children Mortimer most fixated on—for how could he remain devoted to Celia when she, Mirabelle, was so much more striking and there in the flesh—Mirabelle decided to do her duty, and so she bore Mortimer a son.”
    Angelica regarded him steadily. “You.”
    He nodded. “Me. But sadly for Mirabelle, although Mortimer was a kind and affectionate father and paid as much attention to me as I wished, my advent did nothing to alter his obsession with Celia and her brood.” He glanced down at one hand, fingers spread on his thigh. “I gather my birth was difficult. Consequently, in producing me Mirabelle felt she’d paid her dues, not just to my father but to the clan, as well. She waited for what she considered her just reward, but it didn’t eventuate. I can only guess, but I believe she thought that if she simply waited, then as I grew, Mortimer’s affection for me would continue to grow, and ultimately would shift to include her, too.
    â€œSo she found patience, and waited. Although Mortimer had no interest in rejoining society—Celia and her family were all the society he needed—he had from the first been happy to allow Mirabelle to use the house in Edinburgh and join society there. She never did, which puzzled everyone, until much later when, as a young man, I moved among Edinburgh society and discovered that she’d been corresponding with her bosom-bows from soon after her marriage, telling them she’d broken Mortimer from his obsession with Celia, and that he now doted on her. Her letters had painted her life as she’d wanted and wished it to be, not as it was. Consequently, even though she was free to visit Edinburgh, she couldn’t, not without Mortimer fawning at her feet. So she was stuck in the highlands, waiting, still waiting, and growing increasingly bitter.
    â€œEventually, she realized her strategy was never going to bear fruit. Your sisters, and you, had been born by then, and Mortimer was in alt. He constantly prattled about your exploits—if he’d doted on Celia, he was positively besotted with her daughters.”
    Glancing at Angelica’s face, he found her frowning at him.
    â€œYou must have hated us—all of us.”
    â€œNo. Not at all.” He paused, then, accepting he had to make a clean breast of even that, went on, “The truth was I was perfectly happy to have my father distracted by Cynsters. That left me free to range as I would, and with the clan all around me I never lacked for either companionship or mentoring. I had cousins and uncles to teach me riding, hunting, fishing, shooting—every activity a boy could wish for. I had aunts and pseudo-aunts to feed me soup and tend my scrapes. Because of Celia and her offspring, I had a much more . . . colorful and satisfying childhood than I otherwise would have had, and for that”—he inclined his head—“I thank you and yours.”
    â€œBut your