Page 48 of Lyon of Scotland
“My father and grandfather taught me when I was a wee bit lad. I come from a family of musicians. We all play something—bagpipes, fiddles, drums, flutes.” He shrugged, humble yet pleased to tell her about it.
The cards came out again, and Hannah joined them for a game. Dare laughed that she was far more adept at cards than he could have guessed. She won three of four fast games of piquet, agame she often played with her sisters. Leaning toward him, she plucked and rearranged his cards in equally teasing fashion.
“There,” she said. “Now you might win.”
Linhope sat back, smiling as he watched them. “Lord Strathburn, you are a cheerful lad for losing as badly as you did. Something is different with both of you.”
“Oh?” Hannah blushed, and wished her skin did not reveal her thoughts so easily.
“Warmer,” Linhope said. “Peaceful.”
“We, ah, found peace with our situation,” Dare said.
“Well, it suits you both.”
“Another game, sir. Deal the cards,” Dare answered.
Later, following a generous high tea that left her replete and sleepy, Hannah yawned as she read further inEmma. Though the story kept her attention, she kept glancing at the shoreline, hoping for some sign of Scotland’s coast at last. As the rainy light diminished toward dusk, the shoreline faded behind mist.
“I hope we are near Scotland by now,” she said.
Dare sat back as Linhope picked up the fiddle to play a soft and mournful tune. He gestured toward the wide windows of the lounge. “I believe we just passed Newcastle, so we will still be in English waters. We’ll reach Leith by evening. Safe at home at last.”
His affectionate smile sent a thrill through her. Linhope was right; something indeed had changed. “Safe at home, aye, or so we hope.”
“No need to worry,” Dare said, as if he knew her thoughts.
Linhope was setting the fiddle back in its case. “Once we reach Leith,” he said, “I’ll stay with a friend in the Canongate. We can share a hackney into the city.”
“My home is on Northumberland Street,” Dare told Hannah. “Is that agreeable, my lady? If you prefer to stay with your family, I will go home.”
She paused, knowing where she wanted to be, but uncertain where she should live now that she was married. “Papa and my sisters are still traveling. And there are others staying at Papa’s house just now.”
“Others?”
“Some of Papa’s art students will be at the house. Three of them live in the garret, and the others are nearby. They continue working in the studio whenever he is gone. The butler and housekeeper and servants are there, and the house will be quite busy.”
“Do you want to stay there if it is full of art students and no family?”
“They can be a rambunctious lot, but I am used to them, and fond of them—well, most of them.” She thought of Baird, her father’s assistant, who had doggedly pursued her sister Maisie despite her rejection of his courtship. He still worked with her father, and she found him an unpleasant fellow, but harmless enough.
“My home is yours.” Dare met her gaze.
“Thank you. I should go to the house to tell Pringle and Mrs. Pringle—our butler and housekeeper—that my situation has, ah, changed. And if I go to your home, I need to collect some fresh things. Besides, I want to see the Pringles. They have been with us a long time.” She smiled, rueful.
“Whatever you prefer, my dear.”
She nodded and did not reply, not knowing quite what to say to his generosity of spirit. She was not entirely accustomed to it. After the long months with Whitworth and the devastating blunders she had made, she was not sure she deserved so much kindness. As Dare and Linhope returned to their game, she found her place in the novel and began to read. Then caught her breath again.
If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.
And she understood why she felt reticent as well as eager to be with him.
The dark watersof Leith Harbor sparkled under twilight, starlight, and the golden plumes of gas lamps along the quay as Hannah stood beside Lord Linhope. They waited for Strathburn, who had gone searching for a hackney coach for the short trip into Edinburgh.
“Soon, madam,” Linhope said. “I know you must be tired after that long journey.”
“We are all weary, sir. This has all been so—unexpected.”
