Page 7 of The Nabob's Designing Daughter
Best not to observe the equally worldly Mrs. Penelope MacDonal too closely. “Close your mouth, Edme.” He climbed out and helped her down.
“Oh my,” Edme breathed, looking around the overdone entry hall. “Oh my, Errol. Have you ever—” She leaned close and whispered. “If William and Peter and the little ones could see… oh, and the grounds. The hunting the duke has planned. They would be delirious with the chance to stalk a grand stag.”
They handedover their outer garments and entered a grand room, the fireplace at one end almost the size of the bedchamber he’d shared with his father’s man-of-all-work. Stag heads lined the walls, along with ancient weapons and tapestries. In the far corner, near the blazing fire, a woman rose from her chair, and hurried toward them, the man with her rising and following.
Attractive and dark-haired, she was heavy with child, but rosy-cheeked and smiling. Other than an awkward gait—to be expected—she moved swiftly and caught Mrs. MacDonal, in an embrace.
Introductions were made. Andrew MacDonal, Duke of Kinmarty was a well-formed man of about thirty, he would guess, his wife not quite that age, yet older than one might expect of a duke’s wife bearing his first child. Most noblemen married young women, anxious for as many years as required to produce a male heir.
“So, you’re the physician.” The duke scanned him from head to toe and back up again. “You might wish to know that my lady—”
“No, Andrew.” The duchess touched her husband’s arm. “Dr. Robillard has only just arrived. There is no urgency. We must let him rest before we get down to business.”
Her calm demeanor put him at ease. Demme, but hewasnervous, and that wouldn’t do. “Your grace, if it is your time, I am ready now.”
The duke sent her a smug look. “You see, Fil. We men of action are always ready.”
Minny or Fil. What was the duchess’s Christian name?
The duke nodded to him, as if they were equals, and his confidence rose. “If there’s something you wish to tell me about your condition, your grace,” Errol said, “I’d most assuredly like to hear it.”
“Are you having false labor, Minnie?” Mrs. MacDonal appeared beside him and handed him a glass of whisky. “The Kinmarty brew. Quite good, and it will settle your nerves for the night ahead, if it is indeed Minnie’s time.”
“Enough talk of my upcoming ordeal. Edme, Dr. Robillard, we welcome you to our Yuletide celebration. Andrew and I grew up in England and at least where Christmas is concerned, we’ve brought our English ways.” She smiled. “Come the New Year, we’ll celebrate Hogmanay the Scottish way. Now, you must refresh yourself, Doctor Robillard. Come closer to the fire.” She nudged her cousin aside and led Errol to the hearth, whispering. “My husband is apprehensive.”
“And you, Duchess?”
“No.” She shivered. “Or, yes, in fact. My first, and at the advanced age of eight and twenty.”
Nerves were normal, but it wouldn’t do to encourage them. “You will do well, your grace.”
The great door pounded again, and they both looked toward the hall. “More visitors have arrived.” She smiled up at him, and he saw the strain around her eyes.
“Are you in pain?”
“As my cousin said, it is likely false labor,” she whispered. “It comes and goes.”
“When did it start?”
“A few days ago, I had a spell.”
“And now?”
“Now I have a bit of a backache. Please. Sit. I’ll go greet our next arrivals.”
He set down his untouched glass, reached for her hand and placed it over his arm. “I’ll escort you. And after greeting the new arrivals, perhaps you will retire, and I might examine you?”
She laughed. “Men of action, indeed.”
A large, well-tailored, but otherwise lumpy man with white hair and a ruddy complexion entered. The girl next to him wore an equally stylish blue gown that brought out the peaches and cream of her perfect complexion. Errol’s heart stuttered.
Ann Strachney was here, looking as elegant as some of the ladies he’d seen shopping on Bond Street.
He straightened his spine. Why the devil was his heart racing? He’d had more than his share of women, but his heart only raced in the laboratory, or the clinic, or over a particularly well-researched journal article. Never over a girl, and certainly not over a lass who’d asked him for scientific studies and then never answered his letter. True, he’d been glad for the excuse to dispense with the promise to write, but the snub had still rankled.
REUNION
For once, Ann was grateful for Edme’s tendency to squeal. Her cousin rushed to her, and, seeing her father’s glower, stopped dead before them and curtsied. It hid her own attack of nerves.
