Page 52 of Lyon of Scotland
“Of course you must go with your husband,” Marian Pringle said.
“I wanted to tell you both our good news before we went there on our way up from the harbor,” Hannah said. “Would you help me gather some things, Mrs. Pringle?”
“Certainly, dear.”
As the women left the hall, Pringle nodded to Dare. “My lord, perhaps you would like to wait in the library. Sir Archibald keeps a decanter of whisky if you feel the need.”
“I just might.” Dare smiled and followed the butler to the large library.
“My lord, if it is not too forward of me,” Pringle said, standing by the door, “I know Sir Archibald has been concerned about Miss Hannah. When he heard about her broken engagement, he was quite upset. He planned to arrange a more suitable marriage for her as soon as she returned from London.”
Frowning, Dare wondered what that meant. “Arrange a husband for her?”
“Mrs. Pringle, being a cousin of the family, is sometimes a confidante for Sir Archibald. She mentioned to me that you, sir, were precisely the gentleman Sir Archibald had in mind. I wonder if you were aware.”
“I was not,” Dare said in surprise, relief too. “He asked me to look in on her when he learned I was going to London, but said nothing otherwise. I am honored to know that. Thank you.”
“My lord, perhaps that is why Sir Archibald asked you to visit Miss Hannah in London. It seems you had a similar thought. If I may say so,” the butler added.
“Of course you must say what you think. Your understanding is helpful. And I did have an interest in her. So this is—very fortuitous indeed.”
“I am sure this will ease Sir Archibald’s mind. He was distressed about Hannah in London. The entire household was distraught over it, I assure you. But the young lady refused to come home. Something about independence, I believe. Her art, and so on.”
“Independence, and art as well. Aye. She can have both here.”
“The family will be quite pleased with this turn of events. I do not mean to be forward. But I thought you should know.” He bowed his head and closed the door.
Feeling as if a weight had lifted from him, Dare swung about and spied a decanter and glasses on a shelf. Pouring himself a good dram, he sipped.
In going to London, he had intended to visit the College of Arms to discuss the need for his heraldry office to design the king’s new Scottish armorials—and he had promised Sir Archibald that he would visit Hannah. The last thing he expected was to discover Hannah in a dire situation, be threatened himself, and then resolve their troubles as best he could, with marriage and an escape to Scotland.
But he did not yet know if resolution was truly at hand. More than ever in his life, he wanted happiness and finally saw it was within reach. He had longed for it, never quite believing it was possible after the tragedies of the war, the sights he’d seen, his injuries, the death of his fiancée all within a matter of months. He had yearned for love someday, had watched Hannah Gordon from afar, had not acted on those wishes when he could have. Perhaps he did not feel he deserved it. But now he loved and felt loved, and he was determined to protect that for both of them.
Yet he had not told Hannah of his concern regarding Frederic Dove’s deep grudge toward her—toward both of them now. Time would soon tell if his unease was warranted.
Nor had he told her that he very much needed a new heraldry artist—and most desperately needed the drawings that she had in her possession.
He sipped the whisky, judging it good, though he regarded Glenbrae whisky, made by good friends, as superior. Then he paced the library floor until his wife appeared.
Chapter Ten
The house onNorthumberland Street was grander than Hannah expected, larger than her father’s house just a short walk away. Positioned at the end of a row of houses on a quiet cobbled street, the house had an elegant, understated facade and an entrance of golden stonework surrounding a single black door. Like her father’s house two blocks away, Strathburn’s home was part of the neatly laid out streets forming the New Town, rows of imposing palatial-fronted homes added just fifty or so years earlier.
Dare had explained in the hackney ride that his house had been designed for his great-grandfather and came to him with the viscountcy, along with Strathburn Castle, a tower house in the Highlands, smaller than the family seat, Drummond Castle, held by his first cousin, chief of that ilk.
This was no modest house, Hannah thought, stepping into the foyer. All was dark and cool and silent, with just enough light from moonbeams pouring through tall windows in a parlor and dining room just off the hall. More moonlight streamed through an oval skylight in a cupola high above, overlooking a staircase and ironwork balustrade that curved upward at leastthree levels. She felt dizzy as she looked up and into the circling stairway.
Yet the magnificence of the place was balanced by the peaceful simplicity of creamy walls, spare and elegant furnishings, and patterned rugs spanning oak floors.
“It is beautiful,” she breathed.
“I hoped you would like it. Quite dark in here.” He set down the bags he had carried inside, while Hannah carried the basket Mrs. Pringle had provided them. He crossed into the front parlor. “I will find a light.”
Within moments, he lit the oil wick of a lantern and turned, its dark-gold glow illuminating the room. “Chilly too,” he added. “We will need a fire. Do you know how to do that?”
“Of course,” she said. “You have no servants here? The house seems deserted.”
“I gave them all three weeks off while I went to London. We’ve returned a little sooner. My sister lives nearby and may have been in and out to see that all was well. She is an efficient soul and likes the opportunity to straighten my study or change the bedcovers and so on. Cannot help herself, no matter how many housemaids she might have.” He chuckled.
