The constable gave her a sly grin. “I could tell ye a story or three.”
“This is ridiculous,” huffed Trim.
“It certainly is.” Grant nodded at Will, who’d been standing by, ready to lend assistance. “Will, please take Mr. Hugo to the house for a dram. Angus will be pleased to see him.”
The constable brightened. “Now, that’s a fine suggestion, sir. Thank ye.”
“But—”
Trim’s protest withered under Grant’s lethal gaze as Will promptly took the constable off to the house.
Impressed by Grant’s efficient handling of the situation, Kathleen smiled at him. “Now what?”
“Now we all apologize to Mr. Trim, arrange to fix his window, and go home.”
“But he grabbed me,” Jeannie protested.
“You kicked me,” Trim snapped.
Grant went back to looking flinty. “No gentleman should lay a hand in anger on a woman, much less a girl. Do I truly need to remind you of that?”
When Trim fumed in outraged silence, Grant turned to Jeannie. “Maybe everyone got a wee bit fashed and overreacted?”
Since Jeannie was beginning to look mutinous again, Kathleen nodded. “Yes, I think we all overreacted, for which I certainly apologize.”
Grant crouched down to meet Jeannie’s gaze. “Lass?”
She finally relented. “I’m sorry, too.”
He gently tapped her cheek. “Good for you, sweet lass.”
“Matthew, is everything all right?” called a querulous voice from the steps of the Trim house.
Kathleen glanced over to see an elderly man wearing a shawl and leaning on a cane as he peered at them.
“Everything’s fine, Mr. Trim,” Grant called. “Lady Arnprior will visit with you later today, to see how you get on after this unfortunate incident.”
“Her ladyship is always welcome,” the old man said. “Matthew, come back inside. All this standing about cannot be good for us.”
“But, Father,” young Trim protested, “this whole business—”
Old Trim waved his cane. “If Lady Arnprior is satisfied, then so am I.”
“Oh, very well.” Young Trim glared at Kathleen. “But I will be writing to Lady Gorey to inform her of this afternoon’s distressing events.”
He stomped off, followed by his footmen.
Kathleen rubbed her forehead. “Well, that’s just splendid. Helen will be so pleased.”
“Sorry, Kath,” Jeannie said in a small voice.
She dredged up a smile. “It’s not your fault, dearest. Except for the kicking, but one can hardly blame you. That man was positively dreadful.”
Grant nudged them toward the house. “Perhaps we could move this inside, away from our audience.”
Mrs. Buchanan and her sister were still observing from their doorstep.
“It really was just a ball through a window,” Kade said. “And Kathleen did her best to apologize.”
“Not much success there, I’m afraid,” Grant said.
“I’m not used to being the coolheaded one in a crisis,” she said. “It threw me off.”
He snorted. “At least you didn’t pull a knife.”
“Aye, it’s a mess,” said Kade.
“Especially when that old twiddlepoop writes to Mamma,” Jeannie morosely added.
“And Mrs. Buchanan saw the whole thing from start to finish. You know what a gossip she is.” Kade brightened. “But the old gal is fond of you, Grant. You can give her a visit and butter her up. Try to contain the damage, as it were.”
Coming from such an old sobersides, Grant’s quietly muttered oath was remarkably colorful.
Chapter Nine
“Grant, be a good lad and fetch me another dram,” Gillian said. “This has been a most annoying day.”
“Partly thanks to you, pulling a knife on Trim like that,” he sardonically replied as he took her glass over to the drinks trolley.
“Nonsense. I was merely about to pull my knife. Your heroic entrance forestalled that need.”
Grant threw her a disbelieving look. “Gillian, I saw the damn thing in your hand. So did Matthew Trim.”
“Oh, well,” she said with an insouciant shrug. “He was a dreadful ninny, you must admit.”
“Ye can hardly blame the lass,” Angus said from his customary seat by the drawing-room fireplace. “Young Trim was itchin’ for a fight.”
Royal, who was lounging across from him, scoffed. “You didn’t need to scratch that itch so thoroughly.”
“I was the soul of patience, ye ken. A veritable saint.”
“More like the soul of idiocy.” Grant splashed whisky into Gillian’s glass and then poured himself a hefty one. “I suspect you were getting ready to drub Trim with a cricket bat before I arrived.”
Angus let out a disgusted snort. “Och, I didna even think of usin’ the cricket bat, more’s the shame.”
“Losing your touch, Grandda?” Royal teased.
“No sass from you, laddie boy.”
Nick, who was sitting across the room reading a letter, finally gave up trying to ignore the discussion. “I’m extremely disappointed that the men in this family were not able to protect our guests from such a ridiculous scene. Especially you, Angus. You should have immediately taken the ladies into the house. Instead, you displayed not one whit of common sense.”
Grant snorted. “Nick, have you actually ever met our grandfather?”
His brother’s gaze narrowed to glittering shards of blue ice. “And you, Grant. Where were you when this window breaking was going on? You were to be looking out for the ladies, as well. I specifically asked you to do so.”
“I’m not a babysitter,” he protested.
“You’re a terrible one if you are,” Gillian airily commented. “You’ve all but abandoned us, alas and alack.”
“Exactly my point,” Nick said.
“I do have a job,” Grant retorted. “And I pulled everyone’s arse out of the fire today, I might add. If not for me, this sorry lot would have been spending the night in the clink.”
“Och, nae,” Angus said. “I had everythin’ under control.”
Kade rolled his eyes. “No, you didn’t, Grandda. None of us did, I’m sorry to say.”
Grant smiled at his little brother. “As far as I could tell, you and Will were the only ones trying to calm things down, unlike certain other participants.”
Gillian raised a hand. “Guilty as charged. Seriously though, Grant, you did a splendid job managing a difficult situation once you arrived.”
After escorting Kathleen and Jeannie home, Grant had taken up Kade’s unwelcome but sensible suggestion to visit Mrs. Buchanan. Unsurprisingly, the old gal had been properly shocked by the antics in the park. Having both excellent vision and hearing, she’d seen and heard everything, including Gillian’s threat to gut boneheaded Matthew Trim.
Not that a little gossip would hurt the Duchess of Leverton. But Kathleen and Jeannie were vulnerable. The on-dits would no doubt spread to London, because even if old Trim didn’t write to Lady Gorey, somebody else would. There were twenty houses that lined their little square, and a fair number of residents had observed the ridiculous scene. One wouldn’t have to exaggerate the details much at all when the Duchess of Leverton was part of the mix. The scandal sheets practically wrote themselves.
Thanks to a silly game of cricket and one errant ball, Kathleen and Jeannie were now waist-deep in pig manure. And since the scandal had happened on Kendrick watch, the chief of Clan Kendrick would naturally see it as the family’s duty to sort it out.
As did Grant. He felt responsible for Kathleen, and for her scapegrace little sister. If he’d been there to keep an eye on the two lasses, as Nick had asked, none of this would have happened.
Grant had been avoiding Kathleen these last few days, and that had been both stupid and selfish. The truth was that Kathleen Calvert made him feel a hell of a lot of emotions he’d rather not have to face at the moment. Their time t
ogether at Mugdock had made that crystal clear. He was starting to tumble for the lass, which was massively inconvenient given the current state of his life.
Tumbling for her was also pointless, since the fair colleen was obviously determined to return home to the old sod. Grant didn’t need to be a genius to figure that out.
Vicky entered the room and plunked down next to Gillian on the chaise, heaving a sigh. “This situation is my fault. I should have known that having a cricket match in the square was tempting fate. I will call on the Trims tomorrow. I should have gone this evening, but Matthew Trim is such a prissy bore that my nerve quite failed me.”
Nick crossed the room and leaned down to drop a kiss on the top of Vicky’s head. “It’s not your fault, love. Apparently, we cannot expect either our family or our guests to conduct themselves like rational adults.”
“You should just blame everything on me, Nicholas,” Gillian cheerfully said. “No one will question that in the least.”
“I’m sure we can all agree that there’s more than enough blame to go around.” Nick stared pointedly at Angus. “Some in larger measures than others.”
“I was the soul of brevity,” Angus indignantly replied.
“Grandda, that makes no sense,” Royal said.
“Fah,” their grandfather replied with a dismissive wave.
“Regardless of who is to blame,” said Gillian, “I feel perfectly dreadful about having to rush off tomorrow. But I’m afraid it cannot be helped. My husband’s letter made that point quite clearly.”
Vicky patted her hand. “We were all sorry to hear about your mother-in-law’s accident, and we hope the dowager duchess makes a speedy recovery.”
At the same time as the cricket debacle, an express post had arrived from the Duke of Leverton. The dowager duchess had been visiting her son and grandchildren during Gillian’s absence. While playing with her grandson in the back garden, the old gal had tripped on a paving stone and taken a fall, breaking her wrist. The dowager, understandably, had kicked up a fuss and was now insisting that her son escort her back to the country, where she could recover away from what she called the dreadful noise and bustle of the city.
“I feel terrible for the dear old dragon,” Gillian said. “Though you’d think we were living in the middle of Seven Dials instead of an enormous mansion in boring old Mayfair. But the country it must be. And since Charles will not leave the children until I’m home . . .”
“That means you must return posthaste to London.” Vicky let out a wistful sigh. “I’ll miss you dreadfully, though. We’ve had very little time together.”
“I know, pet. But I’ll return next summer, with Charles and children in tow. We’ll camp out with you for weeks and weeks until you’re thoroughly sick of us.”
Grant had to smother a laugh at the look of alarm on Nick’s face.
Vicky, however, beamed. “That sounds simply lovely. We’ll all go up to Castle Kinglas and have a nice, long visit.”
“Nicholas will be thrilled with that prospect,” Gillian replied, giving him a wink.
“I’ll be on pins and needles until your return,” he wryly said.
She laughed. “At least I’m getting Jeannie out of your hair. That girl rather makes me look like a piker.”
“Nonsense. She’s lovely,” Vicky stoutly said. “Jeannie simply has a great deal of energy and doesn’t quite know what to do with herself.”
Kade winced. “True enough.”
“Runs in the family,” Grant couldn’t help adding.
Vicky tilted a questioning eyebrow. “Kathleen is a delightful young woman, Grant. And you seem to get along with her quite well.”
Nick, who was almost as annoying as Angus on the matchmaking front, perked up his ears. “I am happy to hear that. I hope you’ve been paying Kathleen the attention she deserves.”
“You did seem to be having quite the discussion on the steps this afternoon,” Royal said with an annoying smirk. “Anything you’d like to tell us?”
“There was nothing pleasant about that particular discussion,” Grant said in a tone he hoped would end the conversation.
Gillian pointed a finger at him. “Really, dear boy, Kathleen did not need a reprimand from you on the front steps of the house. She truly did her best with that awful young Trim.”
Nick scowled. “You reprimanded Kathleen?”
Grant rolled his eyes. “Of course not. I simply suggested that she needed to exert a bit more control over Jeannie.”
“Och, ye all but bit the poor lass’s head off,” Angus scoffed.
“Grandda, you weren’t even there,” Grant said.
“I was watchin’ out the window, ye ken.”
“Of course you were,” he dryly replied.
Vicky leveled her best governess scowl. “Grant, I am quite surprised to hear this about you. I do not approve.”
“And I thought you were the nice Kendrick,” Gillian drolly said to him.
Kade raised his hand. “That would be me.”
“I am not best pleased about this, Grant,” Nick said in a stern tone.
“Hang on, everybody,” he protested. “I was perfectly polite. If anything, she was rude to me.”
Angus clucked his tongue. “And ye wonder why yer still unmarried, what with yer moods and all.”
Argh. And his family still wondered why he spent all his time at the office.
Royal, smothering a laugh, decided to take pity on him. “Is Jeannie reconciled to her early return to London?” he asked Gillian.
“I thought she was, yet now she’s resistant again. We tried to discuss it with her after dinner, but . . .” Gillian wriggled a hand. “I’m ashamed to admit I beat a hasty retreat and left poor Kathleen to deal with the rebellion.”
“Of course the wee lassie wishes to stay with us,” Angus said. “We’re a damn sight nicer than her own mother.”
Gillian nodded. “Sadly true. Lady Gorey will probably lock the poor child away on some remote country estate.”
Vicky grimaced in sympathy. “That’s dreadful. Perhaps—”
Kathleen hurried through the door. “Please don’t get up, gentlemen. It’s dreadfully rude of me to be late for tea, but Jeannie was quite upset.”
Nick led her to an empty armchair. “No apologies are necessary. May I fetch you a sherry, perhaps, or even a whisky?”
She flopped down with an endearing lack of formality. Grant had to admit that such naturally graceful charm was one of the many things he loved about her.
Loved.
His brain stuttered over the word until he regrouped and told himself to stop thinking like a feckless moron.
Kathleen gave Nick a grateful smile. “A brandy, please. In fact, perhaps you might bring me the entire decanter.”
“Something wrong, Grant?” Angus asked in an innocent tone. “Yer looking a wee bit fashed.”
“The only thing I’m fashed about is my empty glass,” he said, starting to rise.
Nick plucked the glass from his hand. “I’ll fetch it. You sit and talk with Kathleen.”
Kathleen looked startled. “Talk to me? About what?”
“Ah . . .” Grant started.
“About his apology,” Gillian said. “Which he’ll be making right now.”
Good. God.
Kathleen looked perplexed for a moment. Then her brow cleared. “You mean about this afternoon? No apology is necessary. In fact, I’m the one who should be apologizing to all of you for causing trouble.” She crinkled her nose at Grant. “Sadly, a great deal of trouble.”
She looked so adorably rueful that he had to smile. “Och, dinna fash yourself, lass. We’ll get it sorted.”
“I have a suggestion, Kathleen,” Vicky said. “Why don’t you and Jeannie simply continue to stay with us? I am happy to write to your stepmother and extend the offer.”
“That’s so kind of you, but when Helen gets wind of what happened . . .” Kathleen gratefully accepted the brandy glass from Nick and took a he
althy sip.
“I can talk to the old bat . . . er, your stepmother when I get back to London,” Gillian offered. “Smooth things over.”
“I’m afraid there’s no smoothing this over,” Kathleen morosely said. “After discussing the matter with Jeannie . . . well, I’ve decided to take her north with me to Lochnagar. Immediately.”
Her pronouncement produced a surprised silence.
“Are you sure that’s the best solution?” Grant cautiously asked. “Jeannie is ... a wee bit of a handful.”
Kathleen bristled. “Are you implying that I can’t control my own sister?”
“Well . . .”
He saw a heartbreaking mix of anxiety, defiance, and vulnerability in her lovely gray gaze. Somehow, in a room full of supportive people, she seemed very alone.
“I’m simply trying to understand,” he continued in a gentle tone. “She’s been running you in circles for the last two weeks.”
“Running all of us, quite frankly,” Gillian said with a sympathetic grimace.
Kathleen breathed out a heavy sigh. “I know, and I am worried about that. But Helen will just make the poor girl utterly miserable if Jeannie goes home. I can’t bear the thought of it.”
“I suspect you’re also afraid she’ll do something foolish if you send her back to London,” Victoria added.
“It’s more than likely,” Kathleen replied.
“But wouldn’t it be better if the two of you simply stayed with us?” Grant couldn’t help asking. “We won’t let anyone pester you.”
He’d bloody well start breaking heads if anyone tried.
Kathleen gave him a smile so warmhearted and sweet that it made his heart twist.
“You’re all so incredibly kind,” she said. “Still, Helen will be furious if we stay in Glasgow any longer, especially after today’s incident. She might even travel up here to drag Jeannie back herself.”
“What about Kinglas then?” Victoria suggested.
“Since my parents made it clear I’m to go to Lochnagar at some point, I think it’s best to go there. Helen is very fond of Sabrina, so she’ll be more inclined to let Jeannie stay. I simply need to get my sister out of Glasgow before Mr. Trim or anyone else has a chance to write to my stepmother. She might still pitch a fit, but I’m fairly convinced she’ll let Jeannie stay if we’re at Lochnagar.” She flashed a wry smile. “After all, it is rather remote.”
The Highlanderâ??s Irish Bride Page 11
