Page 48 of Christmas at Castle Dunrannoch
“You smoke a pipe?” He raised an eyebrow.
Glaring, Ursula snatched it away. “A lady’s handbag is sacrosanct,” she retorted. “It’s not for—invasion.”
God help her! She’d be struck down at this rate.
In fact, Ursula hated the acrid smell of tobacco smoke but why shouldn’t Miss Abernathy indulge. “We all have our vices.” She smiled tightly, trying not to show her disappointment over the elusive tea.
The bag contained many of the usual things—safety pins and a sewing kit, a newly laundered handkerchief, a pocket watch, Epsom salts, a jar of balsam.
With satisfaction, she located the rest of Miss Abernathy’s chocolate and three toffees in their wrappers.
“Not bad.” Rye gave her his lazy grin again. “But no coffee, huh?”
“It’s not the sort of thing women tend to carry about…” Ursula sighed. She really would have loved a cup of tea. Would the toffees dissolve?
The very bottom of the bag was sticky with the remnants of confectionary long-since sucked, but there were the unmistakable edges of a book. Bound in dark blue leather, it was pocket-sized, the title embossed in gold:
The Lady’s Guide to All Things Useful
Ursula leafed through the first few pages, her brow furrowing. She’d received something similar from her grandmother on her eighteenth birthday, just before she was enrolled with Monsieur Ventissori and was obliged to have her “coming out”.
She didn’t know where her volume was; stuffed in a box somewhere, surely. Hers had been very dull—unless you were riveted by tips on how to throw the perfect luncheon party.
Still, she supposed it might be useful to her, under current circumstances. She’d have to check the chapters on how to address correspondence to various members of the peerage, and conventions of seating precedence. Such topics were bound to be included in a book of this sort.
Miss Abernathy’s bag had turned out to be rather a let down—apart from the bar of Fry’s. She stretched out her legs towards the stove, letting it warm the soles of her feet. Ladylike behaviour be damned. He already thought she smoked a pipe and secretly swigged spirits; a flash of ankle was hardly likely to make much difference. Besides which, once he’d delivered her to the castle, they’d never see each other again. He was charming in his way, but she didn’t suppose his relatives mixed in the same circles as the laird.
It was probably for the best. He already knew too much about her. Once she reached Dunrannoch, she’d need to act her part far more thoroughly.
She’d put up her hair only hurriedly before going to the dining car that morning. With her rush to disembark the train, then the snow and everything that had happened, several strands at the back were falling down, and the rest had to be a mess. She took out the pins, running her fingers through to unsnag the tangles. It didn’t help that her hair had gotten wet.
The room was warming up nicely though. Once dry, she’d curl it round her fist and pin it back into a bun at the nape of her neck.
“Here. Try a sip o’ this.” Rye had been busy while she perused the book. Both cups were filled to the brim. “There’s a dash o’ brandy to liven it up. Seein’ as we might call this an emergency. Just sip it slow.”
It smelt surprisingly good and the taste wasn’t bad, with the hot water mixed in.
Ursula took another mouthful. The heat travelled downwards in a most pleasant way.
“You can call me Ursula, if you like.”
Resolving to be nicer to him, she handed over a piece of chocolate. After all, he’d been true to his word. He hadn’t tried to molest her. Rather, all his actions had been considerate.
From the deep recessed window, Ursula watched the whitewashed landscape fading to grey as the sun disappeared.
On the whole, it was a good thing they’d stumbled into one another. She might otherwise still be trudging through the snow, ending up who knew where.
Chapter Seven
A bothy, on Rannoch Moor
Early evening, 13th December
There was no avoiding it.They were stuck there, together in the bothy, until the mist lifted and the snow let up.
They ate the rest of the chocolate and drank more hot water laced with brandy. Though her head was a little fuzzy, she was feeling more at ease than she had in a long time.
It had grown dark, the only light coming from the wood burner.
