Her mother glared back at her from a huge mound of pillows. “Eden, I did not ask to catch a severe cold. But that is the result of spending over a week on the road and being forced to tolerate one damp inn after another. I can only be grateful that we reached Lord Riddick’s manor house before I succumbed to illness.” She vigorously blew her nose into her handkerchief, as if to punctuate the statement.
Their last few days on the road had indeed been damp and cold, with a steady drizzle that had intensified the farther north they traveled. By the time they’d reached one of Lord Riddick’s secondary estates in a village just outside Glasgow, Edie had been as glad as her mother to get off the road. Mamma had immediately retreated to her bed, leaving Edie with nothing to do but kick up her heels and avoid Captain Gilbride as much as possible.
That had been a challenge. She’d taken most of her meals with her mother in her lovely suite of guest rooms or retreated to her own pretty and very spacious bedroom when Mamma wished to rest. The past three days had been lethally boring, but enduring boredom was preferable to spending the rest of her life in Newgate on a murder charge. That would surely be the result if she spent time in the company of Alasdair Gilbride—the sneakiest¸ most frustrating man she’d ever met.
Edie flashed her mother an apologetic smile. “I know, darling, and I’m a perfect beast to nag you when you’re not feeling well. Shall I fetch you another cup of tea?”
“Oh, I suppose so. And why don’t you bring me one of those scones as well. I must say, the food has been quite acceptable and the staff very helpful, even though the earl isn’t in residence. I can only hope Blairgal Castle is as comfortable as Breadie Manor.”
“Blairgal is a very old castle, Mamma,” Edie said as she took her mother’s cup. “It will likely be dreary and damp and full of drafts.”
“I cannot believe it. The earl is an exceedingly wealthy man. I’m sure everything will be just as it should be.”
Edie cast her mother an assessing glance as she assembled a plate of treats. She recognized Mamma’s expression—the one she wore when attempting to calculate the size of a man’s fortune. She couldn’t avoid the subject any longer, but she was so confused about her own feelings regarding Gilbride that she dreaded even discussing it.
“Mamma, I do hope you’re not planning to throw me at Captain Gilbride. He’s not the least bit interested in me.”
“Eden, there is no need to express yourself in so vulgar a manner. I was simply remarking on Lord Riddick’s superior domestic arrangements. Breadie Manor is quite a snug little seat, don’t you find?”
“Nice try, Mamma,” Edie said, carrying back the teacup. “But I know what you’re up to. You’ve fired off two of your children in fairly splendid style, and now you’re thinking of adding a rich Scottish earl to the family rolls.”
Mamma grimaced as she took her cup. “You make me sound horridly mercenary. Is there anything wrong with wanting to see my beloved child happy and established? You’re not getting any younger, my dear, and with recent events . . . well, we don’t want to see you ending up on the shelf.”
Edie fussed with arranging the plate on the bedside table. Her mother had never worried about her age or prospects before, but the fatal incident had clearly rattled her. And, in truth, it had rattled Edie, too.
“The captain is a very attractive and charming man,” her mother added, “although he does have a rather odd sense of humor. That aside, I cannot find any objection to him. And,” she said, peering at Edie over the rim of her cup, “I’m quite certain he’s attracted to you.”
“Trust me, Mamma, he’s not.”
Her mother stared at her for a few seconds before a look of foreboding came over her face. “How did you ascertain that fact? Don’t tell me you tried to kiss him, or . . . or . . .”
Edie propped her hands on her hips. “Do you really think I would do anything that stupid after what just happened? Besides, I wouldn’t flirt with that man if he was the last bachelor in England.”
“Really, my dear, how can you be so ridiculous? Captain Gilbride is one of the most eligible men on the marriage mart. You know you find him handsome.”
Edie turned her back and paced to the fireplace, the thick carpet muffling her footfalls. She stared up at the Roman motif that adorned the wall over the mantel. The painted scene was of a sleeping nymph surrounded by cherubs, framed by plaster swags and ribbons ornamented in gilt. A toga-garbed man gazed down on the sleeping nymph with a decidedly mawkish expression.
“Come here, Eden,” her mother said in a determined voice.
Edie sighed, dreading yet another in a long string of humiliating conversations. Turning away from the nymph and her sentimental attendants, she trudged back.
Her mother patted the mattress. “Sit next to me, my love.”
“Mamma—”
“Eden, sit.”
She sat. Normally, Edie could run rings around her parents and everyone else in the Reese household, but occasionally Mamma stopped thinking about herself long enough to focus on her maternal instincts. Apparently, she was doing so right now.
“Tell me why you’re upset with Captain Gilbride. And please don’t pretend that you’re not.”
“He’s betrothed, Mamma. He’s been promised for ten years. Apparently ever since he left Scotland.”
Her mother’s eyebrows crawled up her forehead. “Where did you hear this?”
“He told me when we went for that walk after dinner the other night.”
Mamma’s expression grew tight, her skin seeming to stretch over her cheekbones. “I cannot believe it. I’ve heard nothing about this.”
Edie wanted to slap herself in the head. “Mamma, did you concoct this mad scheme to spend the winter in Scotland because you thought Gilbride might wish to marry me?”
Her mother looked guilty for a moment but quickly recovered. “Of course not. William was the one who convinced your father and me that it was the best way to handle the situation. Surely you can’t believe your brother-in-law would play matchmaker?”
“No, but I can believe you would.”
Her mother looked down her elegant, slightly reddened nose. “I will make no apologies for the fact that I wish to see my children with partners worthy of them.”
“Of course not.”
Her mother was too rattled by the news to pick up Edie’s sarcasm. “I don’t understand why William wouldn’t mention this to me and your father. I’m most displeased he didn’t.”
Edie shrugged, affecting an indifferent air. “It hardly matters, since I don’t even like Gilbride. I know you have a soft spot for him, Mamma, or at least for his money—”
“Eden, really!”
“—But I can’t imagine marrying him in a thousand years. He’s a most annoying person and I’m sure we wouldn’t suit.”
“But—”
“He’s engaged, Mamma,” she said firmly. “There’s nothing to be done about it.”
Mamma’s bottom lip thrust out like a fretful child’s. Clearly, she had been cherishing ideas about Gilbride, and now they were looking at a long winter in the middle of nowhere with nothing to show for it. She could almost dredge up some sympathy for her mother’s thwarted plans.
“Did he tell you why he kept his betrothal a secret?” Mamma asked. “It seems odd.”
“I didn’t ask him, since I didn’t think it was any of my business.”
Mamma let out a small snort. “Such scruples never stopped you before.”
Edie flashed her a rueful grin. “I will admit that I was so annoyed by the way he told me that I stomped off in something of a huff. Honestly, how could a man hide something like that? When I think of all the girls he flirted with, and so shamelessly, too . . .” She bit her lip, annoyed that she was starting to sound jealous.
Her mother studied her for a few uncomfortable moments, then she shrugged. “Well, I suppose there’s little point in thinking about it. We should simply be grateful we can avail ourselves of the Earl of
Riddick’s hospitality until your unfortunate contretemps with Sir Malcolm ceases to be a topic of gossip. When we return in the spring, we must hope that everything has returned to normal.”
“I’m sure that will be the case, Mamma.”
In the meantime, Edie would simply have to do her best to survive the winter without throttling one very irritating Scotsman. Gilbride would no doubt be married shortly after they arrived at Blairgal Castle, and the notion of being cooped up for months with him and his new wife was truly depressing.
After a light tap on the door, Mamma’s dresser slipped into the room with a pitcher and glass. “Begging your pardon, your ladyship. I have some nice barley water fresh from the kitchen.”
“Really, Davis, nice and barley water do not belong in the same sentence,” Edie said.
“Miss Eden,” Davis said, ignoring the lame attempt at humor, “you’re to meet Captain Gilbride in the entrance hall in fifteen minutes. He says to be sure to dress warmly, since he’ll be taking you for a drive around the estate.”
Surprised, Edie practically slid off the bed. “What? I never said I would go driving with him.”
“He seems to think you did,” the dresser replied. “Now, her ladyship needs her rest, and you need to get your pelisse and bonnet.”
Edie scowled. “Fine, I’ll leave Mamma alone, but I have no intention of going anywhere with that blasted Scotsman.”
“Eden, Captain Gilbride obviously wants to do something nice for you,” Mamma said in a coaxing voice. “I see no harm in a little outing with him.”
Edie eyed her mother’s suspiciously bland expression. “What are you about, Mamma?”
“I simply think it ridiculous for you to hide yourself away like this. I’m going to take a nap, so you might as well spend a little time with our host.”
“Have you forgotten that he’s betrothed?”
“If so, then you have nothing to fear, do you?” her mother said as she took the glass from Davis. “The captain is a man of honor and, as you’ve pointed out on more than one occasion, he’s practically a member of the family.”
Eden propped her hands on her hips. “You’re the one who keeps pointing that out, not me. You know very well that I shouldn’t be going off alone with him.”
Her mother starched up. “What nonsense. There is nothing wrong with taking a little afternoon drive with your host, who is extending us a great deal of courtesy. You will go to your room and get your things, and then you will meet the captain downstairs.”
“But—”
Mamma pointed an imperious finger at the door. “Go.”
Edie stared at her mother in disbelief, but realized there was no point in debating the issue. When Mamma issued an order in that tone of voice, no one could change her mind. Muttering a few choice oaths under her breath, she marched out of the room and down the hall to her bedroom, where Cora was waiting. Edie silently fumed while her maid stuffed her into her pelisse and arranged her bonnet. Then she snatched up her gloves from the dressing table and stalked to the door.
“You be nice to the captain, Miss Edie,” Cora said. “Don’t be stomping about and scowling like an old biddy.”
Edie turned and looked at her maid, who had an expression dangerously like a smirk on her face.
“You are all deranged,” she said before slamming the door behind her. Edie distinctly heard the sound of laughter echoing from behind the oak panels. And she did, in fact, want to stomp down the hall, but she took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down.
As she came down the elegant cantilevered staircase, one of the doors off the entrance hall opened and Gilbride strode out. When he looked up and smiled, Edie almost missed a step. That charming smile did something peculiar to her insides, something fluttery and warm. It was an unfamiliar sensation and her mental jury had yet to rule on whether she approved of it or not.
“Good morning, Miss Whitney,” he said in a friendly voice. Much too friendly considering that the last time they’d exchanged more than two words she’d called him a great Scottish oaf. She still winced thinking about it.
His smoky gray gaze drifted over her figure, lingering with an appreciation that made her blink in surprise.
“You’re looking particularly lovely today,” he said as he handed her down the final step. “I count myself fortunate to have you join me this morning. It’s been an age since we spent any time together.”
And now he was back to teasing her, drat him. He knew very well she’d been avoiding him, and he clearly wanted her to realize that he knew. But she refused to play that game.
“Mamma hasn’t been well, the poor dear. She simply wouldn’t let me leave her side for a moment.” She punctuated that canard with a melancholy smile meant to communicate how trying the last few days had been. With any of her suitors, it would have brought them to their knees with abject apologies.
Gilbride, however, was made of sterner stuff.
He leaned in close, towering over her, and his eyes gleamed with a wicked intent that promised things she couldn’t even begin to name. Edie resisted the impulse to retreat because she never took a step back from any man. To do so would be a fatal show of weakness.
Besides, he was only pretending to flirt so as to annoy her.
“Ah, lassie, you can’t fool me,” he said, that seductive Scottish burr roughening his voice. It dragged across her nerves, making her shiver. “I’m not one of those man-milliners you lead around by the nose like docile geldings. I know very well you’ve been avoiding me.”
She placed a hand on his brawny chest and gave him a shove. He stepped back, not because she could move him on her own—the man was a proverbial mountain—but because she’d obviously surprised him.
“I do not lead anybody around by the nose, and please desist using that absurd brogue. It makes you sound like an actor in a second-rate touring company performance of Macbeth.”
He looked stunned for a second then let out a deep laugh. If the brogue made her shiver, the laugh was even worse. She almost hoped she was coming down with her mother’s cold.
“Miss Whitney, if you think my brogue is heavy, I doubt you’ll be able to understand anyone at Blairgal.”
“That will be something to look forward to, won’t it? Although I must say that so far I haven’t had any trouble understanding the staff here at Breadie Manor.”
He took her elbow and led her across the entrance hall to the front door, where a footman in livery sprang to open it. Even though Edie had teased her mother about the kilts and the bearskins, she’d been a tad surprised to encounter such superbly trained servants, decked out in the finest livery. They wouldn’t be out of place at Carlton House.
Truthfully, she’d been rather hoping for kilts and tartans, or someone who spouted at least a few lines from Marmion or The Lady of the Lake.
They stepped out to the marble porch that fronted the house. “The staff here are mostly Lowlanders or from Glasgow,” Gilbride explained. “You’ve yet to encounter any true Highlanders.”
She glanced behind her at the Palladian-style house. It certainly didn’t fit with how she’d imagined the Earl of Riddick’s Scottish holdings. Elegant described everything about the residence, with its classic exterior lines in creamy stone. Inside, its curved walls and ceiling domes were adorned with beautiful plasterwork in pale greens and pinks, trimmed in gold. If Edie didn’t miss her guess, the interior had been designed by one of the Adams Brothers, with all the taste and polished beauty for which they were renowned.
“Breadie Manor is beautiful,” she said. “And very modern. Nothing like I expected from a Scottish mansion.”
“I suppose you were expecting moats, turrets, and ghostly bagpipes sounding from the towers. Alas, Miss Whitney, not every manor house in Scotland is a castle. This house, for instance, was built only forty years ago.”
She sighed dramatically. “How disappointing. I was so hoping for at least one bagpipe-wielding ghost. But I admit I’m enjoying chimneys th
at don’t smoke and bedrooms that aren’t drafty. Did your grandfather build it?”
“Yes,” Gilbride said.
“Does he spend much time here?”
“He does have a fair bit of business in Glasgow. When he attends to it, he prefers to stay here rather than in the city, which he claims is dirty and only inhabited by packs of thieving merchants. Which, of course, doesn’t stop him from doing business with those merchants,” he added in a sardonic voice. “My grandfather may be old-fashioned when it comes to his views on family and the clan, but he’s bloody good at running his estates and managing his investments. He’s a canny Scot, if there ever was one.”
“He doesn’t sound nearly romantic enough for me, and I know Mamma will be cruelly disappointed. She’s been imagining tableaus with Rob Roy and Robert the Bruce for days.”
He laughed. “I promise you romance and gloomy castles aplenty, starting today.”
Edie made a great show of peering around at the neat grounds surrounding Breadie Manor. Except for the hills she could make out in the distance, she might have been on a prosperous estate in the Hampshire or Kentish countryside.
“Really?” she said. “Are you going to conjure romance out of thin air?”
As soon as the words passed her lips, she realized her mistake. Gilbride took her hand, briefly entwining her fingers in his before settling it into the crook of his arm.
“If you give me half a chance, I certainly will,” he said in his deliciously deep voice.
He’s betrothed, you idiot. He’s just teasing you.
Edie adopted one of her mother’s tricks—an exaggerated lift of the eyebrows to signal polite incredulity. “Indeed. And are you also going to conjure a castle?”
One corner of his mouth lifted in a wry, knowing smile as he accepted her little dodge.
“As a matter of fact, I am.” He urged her along the graveled drive toward the north corner of the house. “I thought at first to simply take you around the estate, but seeing as it’s a sunny day—something not to be taken for granted in Scotland—I thought I would drive you to Mugdock Castle. It’s not far, and the views of the fells are rather spectacular.”
How to Marry a Royal Highlander Page 8
