Page 55 of Christmas at Castle Dunrannoch
She looked over at the Lady Balmores, both of whom were looking rather pale. “Forgive me, my dears. A sensitive subject, I know.”
“Now, Miss Abernathy.” She turned again to Ursula. “I must say that you’re considerably younger than I was led to believe. Lady Forres indicated that you’d many years’ experience.”
“Ah well. Actually, I’m thirty-eight. I just look rather younger.” Ursula bit her lip. Truly, God would strike her down for the lies she was telling. A bolt of lightning was sure to come down the chimney and smite her on the spot.
“Goodness me!” exclaimed the Countess. “Another day, you must tell us your secret.”
With eyes downcast, Ursula selected a liver paste sandwich. She’d save some ash from the fire and draw on a few wrinkles before she next joined the family.
“And what an unusual accent you have, Miss Abernathy. Which part of Scotland did you say you’re from?”
Ursula gave a nervous laugh. “Oh, my accent?”
Clearing her throat, she emulated the rhythms of the countess’ own gentle lilt. “It comes and goes. For my work, you see, I need to soften my native brogue. Our seat is to the south but I haven’t ever lived there. My father having married against the wishes of his family, we’ve moved about rather a lot.”
“Ah, a love match.” The countess nodded. “Such as between the earl and myself. Second marriages are advantageous in that respect, though our union came too late for me to provide dear Dunrannoch with more children. A man may remain virile to the end, but we ladies ripen younger on the vine.”
She looked wistfully towards the fire. “Fortunately, Dunrannoch married me without expectation of our passion bearing fruit.”
One of the Lady Balmores coughed loudly and offered Ursula the plate of macaroons. “I believe you were most recently with Baron McBhinnie, of the Kilmarnock McBhinnies? A most respected family.”
Ursula felt the colour rising to her cheeks. She really must guide the conversation onto something through which she could weave some semblance of the truth. “Ah yes, the McBhinnies! But it was my previous family that I vouch to know best—the Surrey Arringtons. Three young ladies all most keen on music and riding.”
“Indeed.” Lady Balmore eyed Ursula over the rim of her teacup, looking as if she didn’t believe a word of it.
The countess cast her eyes over the assembled party. “My darlings, if you’ve finished, might I have some time alone with our guest? Fiona and Bonnie, would you escort your great-grandmother back to her room. And, Cora, perhaps you’ll find young Lord Balmore and ask him to join us. I must introduce him to Miss Abernathy, and we can discuss her various duties together.”
With a flurry of skirts and cups clicked upon saucers, the room emptied, so that Ursula was soon alone with Lady Dunrannoch.
The countess set down McTavish and moved to take the seat next to her.
She spoke in a confidential tone. “I want to confide in you Miss Abernathy, to ensure you appreciate the unusual nature of our situation.”
She passed her hand over her forehead. “I’d almost given up hope of us finding the earl’s third son, Rory. It was a day of sadness when I received the telegram informing me of his passing. But one of joy also, since it contained news that his son would take his rightful place in this family. The Dalreaghs have lost so much—” She broke off, her eyes glistening. “Brodie and Lachlan—they weren’t my own, but I helped raise them. Their deaths have been so hard for us to bear.”
Pulling out a handkerchief, she dabbed at her eyes. “I’m sure you can see the way of things. I have five granddaughters, Miss Abernathy, and I’m eager to arrange a betrothal to our new Lord Balmore. It may seem a hasty desire, and marriage to one’s cousin is not as usual as it once was, but I feel we should waste no time.”
Ursula was rather taken aback.
Does she intend the child to make a promise of betrothal to one of those girls? Could such a thing be binding?
The countess sat a little more upright in her chair, assuming a more businesslike manner. “The young fellow has great potential, but his manners are lacking. He is, without doubt, a Dalreagh, but he lacks the necessary refinement. I wish to rectify this in time for our festive cèilidh, and shall be encouraging him to make his choice on that very night. You’ll do all you can, I hope, to ensure a smooth transition for him.”
Ursula could not hide her surprise. It all seemed highly irregular.
At that moment, the door opened.
“Ah, and here he is! Our darling boy!” declared the countess.
Ursula twisted round to cast eyes upon her charge and almost choked on her own tongue.
The man standing before her was no child, nor a gangling adolescent. He was tall and broad-shouldered. His hair was far longer than was fashionable for a gentleman, thick and curling at his collar and, though he’d changed his clothes, he’d not yet shaved, the stubble dark on his jaw.
Moreover, he wore no jacket, no waistcoat, nor a tie—only a linen shirt and moleskin breeches, the bulge of muscle evident on his upper arm and thigh.
To her horror, Ursula found that her pulse was racing.
His eyes twinkled as he walked towards them. He gave his grandmother a kiss upon the cheek and bestowed another on Ursula’s hand.
