Page 6 of A Scottish Lord for Christmas
“Thank heavens for that, my lord. I must admit, I’m nervous I will make a ninny of myself whilst my parents are gone.” Her gentle, concerned confession tugged at his heart. The organ, so hardened into stone over the last year, jolted with an unexpected pulse.
“Do not worry, Miss Rowena, we shall survive the party together. At least today it shall be just us with Hampton and his bride-to-be. Four is not too intimidating a size for an afternoon.” He almost covered her hand with his but caught himself.I must behave. I cannot do more than offer my arm to her.
“That is a relief. Leo, er…that is to say, Lord Hampton is such a dear. And so is Ivy.” Then her face turned a bright scarlet. “I ought not to call them that. I keep forgetting. Mama would be furious if she caught me not using titles. I always forget when it comes to my friends.” She laughed at herself.
And there it was. That glimpse of who this woman was inside. A woman with a heart so open to friendliness and joy that she often called her friends by their Christian names. This was not the sort of woman he would find in London among the balls, dinners, and other engagements. Rowena was a rare and extraordinary creature.
“If that is the case, I’d much prefer if you called me Quinn. I, too, am not inclined toward formality when I can help it.” A silly grin stretched his lips; he couldn’t stop it. There was something about Rowena that caught him off guard and he relaxed around her.
Her blue eyes twinkled like the noon sunlight upon a loch’s surface, sparkling with a kaleidoscope of colors.
“Then I will be Rowena to you,” she replied, the red blush still staining her cheeks. “Oh look! Luncheon!” She nodded at the elegant setting as they entered the dining room.
The long mahogany table in the center of the room was set for only four places near the far end. A matching end piece sat against one wall, laden with dishes of cold turkey, lamb, pigeon, cold pie and ptarmigan, puddings, cheeses, biscuits, jellies, and fruit ready to be served. The soft pale green walls were decorated with portraits of the Hampton ancestors, who peered down at them from layers of oil.
Ivy and Leo were already serving themselves on small plates. A footman stood in the corner of the room, ready to assist if necessary. Ivy smoothed her bright blue tea gown with one hand as she saw them come in, and she broke into a wide smile.
“Rowena, come sit by me.” Ivy patted the chair beside her.
Quinn kept his hold on Rowena’s arm and walked over to the chair beside Ivy; then he released her in order to pull the chair back. Once she was seated, he leaned over a little, catching the hint of rosewater perfume she wore. Just like he’d imagined…
“Allow me to bring you a plate,” he murmured.
Rowena glanced up at him, her eyes wide and delighted. “Thank you, Quinn.” His name came off her lips so naturally, and his body warmed at simply hearing it.
Joining Leo at the side table, he fixed two plates, one for himself and one for Rowena, before he and Leo took their seats at the table.
“Now,” Leo began with an amused glint in his eyes, “Ivy has just reminded me there is a wonderful old set of ruins we could ride up to and have a look around.”
Quinn blinked. “Are you sure? It looks like rain.” When he’d rushed out to the gardens earlier, he’d scented it upon the air. That crisp, clear aroma was unmistakably rain. White clouds hung low upon the distant horizon, but they weren’t dark yet. Still, he knew when a storm was coming. It was a skill he’d attributed to living a life out of doors upon his estate at Forres. If there was one thing he knew about the English, it was that they played at being outdoorsmen, but most were too used to their pampered life of aristocratic splendor.
Scotland was harsh at times, the winters colder, the land less inclined to yield food. It made men stronger, and the women too. He glanced at Rowena again. Perhaps he was wrong to seek an English bride, one who was not used to such harsh environments. But the thought of hearing his name uttered in a familiar Scottish tongue and not have it be from Maura’s lips…he could not bear it. No, better he marry an English lass because she would not remind him of what he’d lost. Again he stilled as he realized he was considering Rowena among his bridal prospects. But why shouldn’t he? She was young, beautiful, sweet with Blair, intelligent…
“We’ll take the Stanley. If it starts to rain, we can drive back. What do you say, Forres?”
With a shrug, Quinn settled in to eat his luncheon. “If the ladies wish to go, I’m happy to oblige.”
“It does sound fun.” Rowena grinned happily across the table at him. Her smile was infectious.
When he reached for the buttered toast, he noticed Ivy was watching him, an intense but not unfriendly focus gleaming in her warm, dark eyes. He offered her a small smile, which she returned before focusing on Leo.
After the luncheon was over, the four of them retired to their chambers in order to dress more warmly for their outing. Quinn paused before the mirror close to his bed as he slid on his Chesterfield, a single-breasted coat of herringbone tweed. The velvet collar of the coat would keep his neck warm in case it did rain and a chill set in. His valet helped him tidy up his clothes before he exited his chambers. Hampton was just leaving his room and they descended the grand staircase together.
“Hampton, what do think of Miss Rowena?” Quinn slid his black leather gloves on as they reached the bottom stair.
Leo dug around in his coat until he found his own gloves. With a covert glance about the main hall, Leo leaned close to him.
“She’s a lovely young woman, only just come out. Her presentation caused quite a stir in London. I imagine she won’t be on the market long.” Leo shot him a sideways glance as he propped one arm against the banister railing. “Mother thought you might be wife hunting. Is that true, Forres?”
Rather than be angered by the blunt question, he was amused at the thought of his intentions being uncovered by Leo’s mother. She was undoubtedly shrewd.
“Truth be told, I am. Blair needs a mother and the running of my household has become a burden I would be glad to share with a wife.” Since Maura had died, his sister had assumed the role, but Quinn was not blind. He’d seen Kenna mooning over wedding dresses in her fashion magazines from Paris and getting lost in daydreams of her own life. She deserved to have a chance to live and not suffer under any obligations Maura’s death may have left her with. Therefore, Quinnneededa wife.
“Well, then,” Leo chuckled, “Rowena would suit you very well. She’s been trained to care for a large household, and I daresay she is affable too. But…” Leo paused, his eyes narrowing in speculation.
“But?” Quinn pressed.
Leo looked heavenward and sighed. “She’s a romantic and a dreamer, Forres. If I have learned anything from Ivy, it’s that you must let a woman be who she is meant to be. No clipping their wings, no binding them in marital shackles that would crush their spirits. The women of today are not like our mothers. They believe in equality and marriage as partnerships. Rowena is young but she’ll be like her sister, opinionated and intelligent.”
