Page 11 of The Season for Loving
“Oh, you’re Catholic,” she said with a nod. “I understand many Highlanders are.”
“No, my family is Church of Scotland. My sister converted to Catholicism.”
“That’s rather unusual, isn’t it?” she asked, not really sure how to react. “I imagine your sister’s decision caused quite a reaction.”
She hoped she didn’t seem too nosy, but it sounded exciting and rather radical—a woman taking her fate into her own hands. Not that Georgie had any desire to be a nun. In fact, the very thought of giving up even more personal freedom practically gave her hives. But she had to admire any woman who had the strength to follow her own path, especially such an unconventional one.
His deeply sardonic laugh told its own story. “You have no idea.”
Georgie wished she had the nerve to ask him for details but knew she should bring the discussion back to safer ground. “Do you have any brothers, or is it just you at your manor house?”
Something flickered in his gaze. It was gone before she could get a sense of it.
“No brothers, just me,” he said. “My uncle and my extended family live up at Blairgal.”
“So, all you had was your sister,” she said softly. “And yet you let her go. You must miss her very much.”
“I do,” he said just as softly. “But a religious vocation was what she wanted, and she is happy.”
Georgie had to clear her throat. “Well, you are obviously a splendid brother. She is very lucky to have you.”
He looked a trifle embarrassed. “I believe you’re close to your brother, are you not?”
She cast a glance at Bertie, still deep in conversation with Will. As if he sensed her gaze, he glanced over. His eyes narrowed slightly on her and Mr. Haddon, as if sizing up the situation, but then he gave her a smile and a wink.
“I think I have my answer,” Mr. Haddon said.
“Bertie’s the most wonderful brother. Unfortunately, he’s also a bit of a mother hen when it comes to protecting me. He can be a tad dictatorial over it, I’m afraid.” She wrinkled her nose to make sure Mr. Haddon knew she was jesting.
He nodded. “We brothers can be tiresomely over-protective. I ordered my sister around, too. Barely gave the poor girl a chance to think for herself, I’m sorry to say.”
“Now you have cast all my hopes down to the ground, after I was quite ready to put you up on a pedestal. The perfect brother and a handsome and dashing Highlander to boot. I’m crushed.”
When he flushed under his tan, Georgie realized she’d put her foot squarely in it again. It was what came of never having the chance to socialize with young men. One generally acted like an idiot when finally given the opportunity.
After an awkward pause, Mr. Haddon manfully forged on. “I expect your brother is still worried about you after your illness. Although you do look perfectly fit to me.”
She gave him a grateful smile for so adroitly managing the conversation. For someone who ostensibly had no more social skills than she did, he was surprisingly easy to talk to. “I’m perfectly well, although you’d never know it from Bertie.”
“I expect it’s partly because he’s a good deal older than you. He feels responsible.”
“That’s true. It’s been just the two of us for a long time. Or, at least it was until he married Eliza. Which was wonderful,” she hastened to add.
“Perhaps he’ll stop hovering about you so much now that he has a wife to worry about.”
“Not so far,” she said wryly.
He laughed. Georgie couldn’t help noticing that it was a very appealing laugh—deep and surprisingly full of good humor.
“Families can be quite vexing that way,” he said.
“Not yours, surely. Besides, you’re a man. You can do what you want.”
“Believe me when I tell you that such is not the case. In fact, my trip to London was the result of my uncle ordering me south for much of the winter. It was not my choice.”
“So that explains it.”
“Explains what?”
