Page 6 of The Highlander's Auctioned Bride
Momentarily out of options, she did her best to mingle with the other women and put on a brave face.
Mrs. Guthrie was flitting about amidst them all, introducing different parties to one another and generally enthusing about their gowns and how they looked.The only thing that matters is our looks, it seems,Maisie thought as she watched Mrs. Guthrie gush over a fan one of the women was holding.
She longed for her quiet bedroom at home with her books, or perhaps a quiet evening in her father’s study playing chess together. Chess was far simpler than society. There might be justas many rules, but if you were overwhelmed, you could at least resign.
Their quiet townhouse already seemed like a different life, a life that had been lost to her irrevocably. Deep in her mind, in a place where she had refused to dwell for too long, she understood the home she had known was gone forever.
Maisie had two options: to wed or to earn her own living. The first was unthinkable, the second held possibilities.
In the short term, she would endure the feast and play her part. She had no illusions that she would be picked by MacLennan and would go out of her way to ensure she was not. Then, they would return to Larkhill, and she would help her father to rebuild their business.
There might be a way for them to retain the house while she took work as a governess. Perhaps she had not been looking in the right places—there could be people in their social circle who knew of a suitable position closer to home.
With her help, she could buy him enough time to reestablish their contacts in Glasgow and build a new shipment. How long would they need, a year? Perhaps less.
As she made up her mind she attempted to look demure and capable, her head held high. All was not lost.
A tray of fruit cordial appeared in front of her, and she snagged a glass before it disappeared.
As the servant moved on she saw her father approaching and her shoulders squared unconsciously. Her fingers clenched about the stem of her glass. She was unable to suppress her anger completely It was he who had put her in this position, deciding that this humiliation was the only solution to finding her a husband. She could not believe that he had explored other avenues. He simply would not have believed her capable of assisting him. He did not see her as his equal—if he had he would have told her of their troubles long ago.
She felt her shoulders soften as she observed him, however. Her father always did what he believed was best for her, in his way. As he came toward her, she noticed with a pang of sadness that he looked older and more tired than ever before.
She offered him her glass, which she had yet to drink from, and he took it gratefully. He sipped the cloyingly sweet syrup and winced, handing it back as Maisie gave a huff of laughter.
“It is like swallowin’ a spoonful of sugar; ye have it,” he said softly. “Where did ye go?” he asked, eyeing her warily.
“I needed some air,” she said automatically.
“We areoutside, Maisie.”
“Some space, then; I just wanted to be free of the crowds for a little while.”
“Hmm, I hope ye will dae yer best. I ken this isnae what ye would want, but we must make dae with what life has given us.”
“I ken,” she replied, sipping the cordial. She saw Lillian Guthrie coming toward her through the crowd, and her spine tensed.Bonnie she may be, but somethin’ about her sets me teeth on edge.
“Miss Brown,” Lillian said happily, “I was lookin’ for ye, is all well?”
“Aye, quite well. Thank ye. May I introduce me faither, Mr. Archie Brown? Faither, this is Miss Lillian Guthrie, Mrs. Guthrie’s niece.”
Lillian curtsied perfectly, and Maisie hid a scowl.
“Lovely to meet ye, me dear,” her father said, but there was a coldness in his tone. To her consternation, Maisie realized that her father’s attitude was due to this girl being the competition. She would have laughed aloud if she were not so furious with him.
“Me aunt tells me ye are a tradesman, Mr. Brown,” Lillian remarked. “That must be an interestin’ occupation.”
Maisie clenched her teeth. Lillian was very subtly putting her father down. The Browns were known for their acquired wealth. Her father had worked all his life to reach the heights that he had enjoyed in good society—at least until recently—and Maisie had always been proud of him for that.
For Lillian, however, a man who had worked for his money would be below her, and she was making that quite clear.
Maisie opened her mouth to say something, cutting to shut the conversation down, but before she could do so, Lillian suddenly straightened considerably to all of her five foot in height and squeaked excitedly.
“Laird MacLennan has arrived!” she hissed.
Despite herself, Maisie had been drawn into the fanfare of the occasion and turned to look.
She froze.
