Page 22 of The Nabob's Designing Daughter
Errol groped around for a polite response that wasn’t too inane. “You’re returning to Edinburgh?”
“Ah, no, I’m for Inverness and a family gathering there.”
As they entered the drawing room, the duke waved a greeting. Mr. Warton and Cuttingwell nodded. The newest arrival, the Marquess of Hottentot, or whatever his name was, curled his lip in a dismissive glance and turned back to his conversation with Strachney.
Strachney turned a curious gaze on Henderson.
The duke beckoned them, poured drinks, and made introductions. Errol stepped back and listened while the men discussed hunting. The marquess watched the door like a hawk, and when the ladies walked in, all four of them together, his face lit up in a bright smile. He went to claim Ann but, wedged between Mrs. MacDonal and Edme, Ann steered both ladies over to where Mr. Henderson stood, like himself another outsider on the edge of this aristocratic circle.
Henderson greeted Mrs. MacDonal and Ann—as if he knew Ann already. Ann introduced Edme.
Strachney cleared his throat loudly. “And why are you here at Kinmarty, Henderson?” he called.
A hush fell over the room. The marquess chuckled. “Excellent question, Strachney. We have sportsmen, a neighbor, and a doctor. Which of those groups do you fall into, Henderson? Do satisfy our curiosity, if you will.”
The ass. Errol glanced over and saw that Ann’s smile had faded, and color rose in her face.
“Henderson is a most esteemed Edinburgh solicitor,” said the duke, “and our guest.”
Mrs. MacDonal laughed. “And I feel certain Mr. Henderson does not discuss his clients around the dinner table.”
“I do not indeed, ma’am,” Henderson said with an affable smile. “Or anywhere else.”
“And how do you know my daughter?” Strachney asked.
A VISIT TO MOUNTH TOWER
Ann felt the squeeze of Penelope’s hand on her arm. “Mr. Henderson arrived this morning. Ann and I met him earlier today, of course.”
She sent Penelope a grateful smile, while the lady continued with her easy grace. “Come, Mr. Henderson, sit down and entertain us ladies with your plans to travel on to Inverness.”
“Yes, I should like to hear as well,” Hatherot said.
Ann glanced back at Errol and caught his frown. And then she noticed her father scowling at her—because he’d seen her glance at Errol.
A jittery feeling rose in her. Was Errol jealous of Hatherot? Or had Henderson told him that she’d paid his university fees?
Loosened by the good Kinmarty whisky, the normally sober solicitor spun stories about the family’s Yuletide celebrations in years past. The marquess, probably seeing no contest in the middle-aged man, joined the conversation with less sneering and more cordiality. Across the room, her father relaxed. Errol, however, turned away and took a seat near the duchess.
She’d get no moment alone with Henderson this night.
From her windowthe next morning, Ann saw Errol ride off with the duke and Mr. Henderson.
So much for having a longer talk with either man alone. When she and Edme went down to breakfast, she found that all the men had left already to go shooting—her father included. The duchess was breakfasting in her room, but Penelope soon joined them and set out the plans for holiday decorations. If the weather held, they’d gather boughs in two days’ time and have the men find a suitable yule log.
Christmas was only a few days away. She hoped Errol would still be here.
“Ann,” Penelope asked with a sly grin, “what do you think of the courtship rituals?”
Edme giggled and Penelope joined in.
Ann shuddered. The marquess was making his intentions very clear. “I’ve never truly been pursued before.”
“No, notthatcourtship,” Penelope said. “I mean the one between Hatherot and your father.”
Edme snickered again, but Ann set down her fork. “Oh, what am I to do?” she said. “He’s a fortune hunter, isn’t he?”
“Pockets to let. A great gambler, and always loses. He was organizing a card game last night after we retired. They’ve gone out so early, it must not have lasted long.”
