Lowland Romance Collection - Books 1-3

Book summary

Immerse yourself in the rich landscapes and passionate intrigues of Scotland with Helen Susan Swift's 'Lowland Romance' trilogy. Journey through the historic streets of 19th-century Edinburgh, the fervent heart of the Scottish Borders, and the looming shadow of Napoleon's forces. As formidable heroines navigate societal expectations, hidden secrets, and matters of the heart, they encounter love, danger, and choices that could change their lives forever. This captivating collection interweaves tales of romance, loyalty, and courage against the evocative backdrop of Scotland's tumultuous past.

Excerpt from Lowland Romance Collection - Books 1-3

While dressing down to walk around Hindustan had been relatively easy, deciding what to wear to infiltrate an Edinburgh gambling hell was well outside my experience and I was glad to take Captain Rogers' advice.

'You must look the part,' he said. 'You must appear attractive to the type of man who frequents such a place, and you must be willing to be pleasant to him.'

'I am grateful for your help,' I said and added curiously, 'have you ever attended such an establishment?'

When Captain Rogers laughed, that interesting little scar elongated across his chin. 'As a younger man, I did many things of which I am not proud.'

I nodded. Young men were often foolish and grew out of it. Respectable young women had less opportunity for waywardness. 'Do you know where these places might be?'

'Some of my younger colleagues were helpful when I asked.' Captain Rogers said. 'Your Gibbie Elliot has been seen in Weir's Inn more than once.'

'Should we go there?'

'Weir's Inn is well known for harbouring gaming tables,' Captain Rogers spoke quietly.

'Then that is where we shall go.' Part of me felt as if I was betraying Gibbie. Another stronger, part was wild to help Marie.

I hired a chaise and parked outside some of the more notorious places in Edinburgh, watching the kind of people who entered and left. I did not see Gibbie, but I did find out that my wardrobe of clothes did not extend to the gaudy articles that seemed to be preferred by the women who frequented gambling halls.

'The best place to purchase them will be in pawnshops,' Captain Rogers leaned back in my chair and crossed his elegant legs. He seemed quite at home in my drawing room, much to Mrs Macfarlane's satisfaction. 'Have you ever visited a pawnshop, Miss Flockhart?'

'I have not.'

'Would you prefer me to accompany you?'

'I would.' I swirled the brandy in the bottom of my glass. 'I would be very grateful for your company, Captain Rogers.'

'Is it not time we were a little less formal?' Captain Rogers smiled over the rim of his glass. 'My Christian name is George.'

I hesitated for only a moment. 'I am Dorothea.'

'That is a lovely name,' Captain Rogers said.

We shook hands as if we had only just met and then George grinned. 'There now, that wasn't too hard, was it?'

'It was not hard at all.'

'It was not hard at all, George,' George prompted.

'It was not hard at all, George,' I said.

'I am on duty tomorrow,' George was smiling now. 'If you are free on Friday we can shop for your new creations.'

'Thank you,' I said again.

'I haven't done anything yet,' George said.

'Thank you for not letting me down.' This time there was no doubt who kissed whom. There was slight stubble around the scar on his chin, sufficient to be interesting on my lips.

'I will have to watch you, Miss Flockhart,' George said.

'Dorothea,' I reminded.

'Dorothea,' George said.

Passing through the streets of Edinburgh in a chaise and shopping elbow-to-elbow with the good neighbours are two vastly different experiences. In the former one is something of an observer, watching the people as they work and play. In the latter one is part of things, a participator in life's events, mixing with the shifting, noisy, emotional mass of the population who live and breathe and work in one of the most crowded and historical cities in Europe.

I was glad that Captain Rogers was at my side when I visited half a dozen of the pawn shops, each one of which seemed to be less salubrious than its neighbour. Each shop had shifty-eyed men and women behind the counter and a selection of ragged clothing, tawdry jewellery and possessions in drawers and glass-fronted boxes. They all smelled of damp clothes and cheap tobacco, with guttering candles pooling sufficient yellow light for the proprietors to see the customers yet not enough light for the customers to accurately assess the goods.

'We are looking for clothes for a fancy-dress show,' George lied easily and took over the buying with an aplomb that I could only admire. There was much about this man that I still had to learn.

The pawnshop proprietors eyed Captain Rogers' uniform and the hilt of his sword, looked at my unsmiling and unfashionably sun-tanned face and decided they would best oblige us. I am sure they had as much honesty as that class of person could find. I found it comforting being so close to a man who commanded such instant respect as my gallant captain. Once or twice I looked up at him and wondered if Mother Faa could have been correct. And then my memories crowded into the front of my mind, and I knew I was destined to be alone.

I felt grubby handling the gaudy clothing and wondered what sort of people had worn these clothes. Had they been clean? Or had they neglected to wash, and what kind of lifestyles had they? I wondered at the personalities and experiences as I chose the most outrageous clothes I could find and parted with small amounts of money for each. Twice I was about to pay the first amount the proprietors demanded, and each time George shook his head.

'You're not cheating us,' George said to the shop woman. 'If you try I'll have my men mount a picket around your shop and chase away your customers.'

The proprietors had spread their hands in innocence and immediately dropped their price.

'I could afford the first price,' I told George.

'Money is a finite commodity,' George said. 'If you can afford it, give it to the poor, not to these leeches. They live by sucking money from people who have nothing.'

'You're a good man, George.' I squeezed his hand, liking this soldier more each time we met.

Fortunately, I had the foresight to bring a canvas sea-bag into which I crammed each article without concerning myself over their condition. I would ensure these clothes were adequately scrubbed before donning them. When George saw the bag, he reached across and took it from me.

'A gentleman should never allow a lady to carry a bag when his hands are empty,' he said.

'You're an officer,' I saw him swing the bag across his right shoulder. 'It's not fitting.'