Page 13 of It Happened in the Highlands
Jo was ready to continue, to challenge the couple to take back not only their words, but to acknowledge the prejudices they were harboring against the child. But her hosts were looking past her at the doorway.
“Captain, join us,” the Squire said, standing. “Allow me to introduce our guest.”
Chapter 5
The timidity that he had known in Jo’s character was gone. In its place, Wynne saw a lioness ready to pounce in defense of his son.
The notion warmed his heart. With the exception of Dermot, Cuffe had very few champions at the Abbey. Many of the farm folk ignored the lad. Others tolerated him politely out of deference to Wynne . . . at least in his presence. And there were some, like the Squire and his wife and the vicar—genuinely good-hearted people—who had the best of intentions but managed to say the wrong things at the wrong time.
A faint blush colored Jo’s cheek as she stood and turned to him. She’d changed. He had always thought her very pretty, but she now had a handsomeness about her that took him aback. The perfect symmetry of her high cheekbones, the confident set of her mouth, the soft curves of her hips and breast. She was a flower that had bloomed, but had retained in maturity the best qualities of youth.
Wynne gazed into her grave, brown eyes. Beneath the well-defined eyebrows and the long lashes, the shadows of sadness still dwelt there.
As the Squire started to make the introductions, Jo spoke.
“Captain Melfort and I are acquainted.”
Curious looks passed between the husband and wife as bow and curtsy were exchanged, but they asked no questions. No explanations were offered either.
“Take some tea with us, Captain?” Mrs. McKendry asked.
“I am afraid I can’t, ma’am. I’m here to steal your guest away and escort her to the ward. The doctor believes his patient might be ready to accept visitors.” He turned his attention back to their guest. “That is, if Lady Jo is ready.”
“Yes, I am. Absolutely,” she said in a rush before thanking her hosts for their hospitality.
Wynne waited by the door, listening to the lilt of her voice, watching her movements, and feeling the years drop away.
Their parting was back. He owed her an apology. Whatever words he wrote to her were meaningless because he’d never had the chance to explain himself more fully. But she wasn’t at home, and his cowardice made him leave the hastily written letter.
The duel with her brother the next morning had ended any chance of them meeting until today.
Wynne thought the years had dulled the sharp edge of their past, but he was wrong.
“ . . . and our invitation stands, m’lady,” Mrs. McKendry was saying. “If you decide to stay the night, or a fortnight, or as long as you desire, you’re welcome here. We have any number of rooms in the Abbey that we keep in readiness for the families of the patients when they visit.”
“That is very kind of you, but my brother Gregory and his wife are expecting me at Torrishbrae in Sutherland. I was hoping to be back on the road by mid-afternoon.”
Gregory married, Wynne thought. The last time he’d seen Jo’s younger brother, he was only slightly older than Cuffe.
Jo avoided meeting his gaze as she approached, and Wynne recalled a time when she’d rush across a room to take his hand and demand to know what he was thinking.
As they maneuvered through the corridors out of the east wing and into the old great hall, he broke the silence lying heavily between them.
“I need to apologize for inadvertently eavesdropping,” he said. “I entered the drawing room a moment before my presence was noted. I was impressed by your knowledge of children’s manners and behavior, and your sense of conviction in voicing your views.”
She glanced back over her shoulder. “I’m afraid I’ve developed a failing in being too abrupt on this topic. My tone was a little strident for the occasion, I believe.”
“Don’t worry about them. The Squire and his wife are not ones to carry a grudge,” he told her. “They are kindhearted people. Truly. At the same time, they’re unfamiliar with how to deal with anyone, adult or a child, who looks different or behaves differently from people they’re accustomed to. Unlike your own broad-minded family, they lead a provincial life here in the Highlands. I’m quite sure Cuffe is the first person of African descent that they’ve ever met.”
Wynne’s gaze was drawn to her face as she tucked a strand of loose hair behind an ear. The blush rose again into her cheek, and he wondered if the mention of her family was the cause of it.
“I heard your son is only ten years old,” she said, stepping past him as he paused in a doorway to allow her through. “With enough time and patience—and the right amount of encouragement—I’m certain he’ll come to embrace his new home.”
“One would hope.” Wynne wasn’t about to rail at her about the impracticality of idealism. Her words made the situation sound far simpler to resolve than the reality. They’d nearly reached the north annex. “But have you ever been in the position of dealing with a child in such circumstances? Or been exposed to the difficulties that can present themselves?”
“I have. But I grant you, not in the role of a parent. However, I’ve been involved with many horrific family situations, and I’ve provided whatever was needed to help.”
Seeing the footman standing by to let them into the ward, Wynne motioned for him to wait.
