Page 51 of A Rogue in Firelight
“Because you are a widow? Sadly, we trade loss for a little freedom, my dear. But your father insists on propriety while you are here this time.”
“I know.” Ellison was keenly aware of MacGregor’s silence.
“Adam seemed eager to come up. I could write to him,” the lady offered brightly.
“That is not necessary,” Ellison said quickly. “You will only be gone a few days.”
“Perhaps longer. My sister feels very drained. But when I return, Darrach will be a fine gentleman indeed, and we will be off to the city. Do you not agree, sir?”
“I will do my best to fulfill expectations, my lady.”
“You are doing that already. Ellison was told to turn a frog into a—”
“Here is tea!” Ellison said in relief as Mrs. Barrow entered the room with a tray.
*
Ronan hoped hisstomach was not growling audibly. He had eaten little that day, and months of a prison menu had honed his appreciation of good food. Ellison Graham served tea, hot and dark, steam floating from dainty cups, and filled small china plates with pretty cakes and a heartier fare of sausages, cold salmon, and rolls.
“This is excellent,” Lady Strathniven said. “Is that Mrs. Barrow’s lemon cake? And fresh strawberries? Marvelous! But I should have a little salmon first.”
Watching Ellison prepare another plate, Ronan noticed how petite and wan she looked in gray-blue trimmed in somber marching rows of black lace. Her morning dress had been soaked, he remembered vividly, showing how thin she was, though lush in places too. He was glad to see her appetite in selecting sausages and a roll for herself, while Lady Strathniven’s plate rivaled a farmer’s.
He smiled, accepting a teacup. She then provided him a plate of savory sausages, salmon, and a buttered roll. She had remembered that he took only a dollop of milk and no sugar in his tea. But even if she had loaded it with sugar, he would have sipped it just to see her smile.
“Despite what your father believes, my dear,” Lady Strathniven was saying, “Sir Hector will always think of you as his little girl no matter what. But you have earned your independence, and it is time he realized it.”
Ellison nodded, glancing quickly at Ronan. “Aye, my lady.”
“Doing what you please is a hard-earned privilege of widowhood. Sir Hector cannot protest if you follow my example. I do as I want.”
“It is good advice.”
“I do wish your husband had left you an unencumbered property. Have the lawyers sorted out your Edinburgh house?”
“Not yet.” Ellison sipped her tea.
“It should be yours without question. The house is suitable for now, but if you marry again, which I am sure you will do, it may be too small.”
The girl blushed furiously. Silent, listening, Ronan sipped tea.
“Mr. Smithson believes it will be mine as soon as the dispute is solved.”
“A good house in a desirable area is a treasure. I do wish the poor fellow had left you more secure, my dear. Do prod the lawyer again. Some of them are not worth their salt and we must continually press them, isn’t it so, Lord Darrach?”
Ronan swallowed quickly. “At times, aye.”
The lady picked up a scone and spread it liberally with butter. “Hearts heal, but property could be lost forever. Colin’s cousins need to leave that house now.”
“It is a bit of a problem,” Ellison agreed quietly.
“Squatters,” Lady Strathniven declared. “You see, Darrach—her late husband’s relatives insist the house is theirs. They moved in last year and refuse to leave.”
“That must be very distressing,” he commented carefully.
“My husband’s will was not specific about the property,” Ellison explained, “so his cousins claimed the house because the will stated they could choose whatever family items they wanted. After his death, I moved back to my father’s house, and they took up residence without asking. They had a key from years before.”
“An unfortunate situation,” he said, but inside, he simmered over the injustice.
