“Excellent. Let us gather up what we can and get started.” He picked up a ham, several loaves of bread, and whatever else he figured he could turn into something edible.
Setting everything out on the side, he motioned to Catherine. “Why do you not see what we can salvage and then we shall start making some sandwiches and canapes.”
He hunted out a large knife and began slicing bread. All the women remained motionless. He peered over his shoulder to find them watching him, varying looks of bemusement in their expression.
“Get to it, lasses,” he scolded, his tone teasing.
All five of them leapt into action, helping him create sandwiches and layer on spreads onto savory biscuits. Lavinia worked studiously next to him, following his instructions with quiet concentration.
“Why did you and your sisters end up having to take care of this anyway?” he asked as he slathered butter onto bread.
Lavinia sighed. “Despite the many, many people staying here at present, it’s normally quiet here. There are not many younger people in the village so these sorts of duties often fall to us.”
“Fall to you, you mean,” said Julia. “Lavinia is the nicest of the Chadwick sisters, everyone knows that. She would do anything for anyone.”
“That’s not true,” Lavinia murmured.
“What? That you are the nicest or that you would do anything for anyone?” he asked with a smile.
She opened her mouth then shut it. “I—”
“Lavinia is who everyone wishes we were,” Catherine declared. “Unfortunately for them, we’re all redheaded, freckled, and vile.” She said this with a proud grin.
“None of you are vile,” protested Lavinia.
“No, but we are all far too bluestocking for anyone’s liking,” Emma added.
Niall frowned. “Bluestocking?”
“We like books too much or are unusual or too intellectual.” Amelia shrugged. “Lavinia is hardly silly but she’s so much better with people than we are. Everyone in the village adores her.”
A stain appeared on Lavinia’s cheeks when he glanced at her. The hint of frustration in her pose told him that perhaps she did not enjoy this idolization as much as many women would.
“I do not have much time for society and its made-up words,” he admitted. “Running the estate keeps me busy.”
“Do you never go to Edinburgh, my laird?” Emma queried. “I hear it is quite a place.”
“Aye, it is. As civilized as London, I’d say.” He chuckled. “But it is a way from my home in Glenrigg.”
Lavinia gasped. “You are practically in the mountains there.”
“Aye.” He peered at her. “You know much about Scotland?”
She shook her head. “Not a lot, no, but I enjoy reading about its history. I have never had occasion to visit. Surely it would have been easier to visit Edinburgh to find yourself...a um...well to meet new people?”
“Easier perhaps but you’d be surprised how many Scots travel down for the season. Edinburgh will be practically deserted.” And all the best catches would be in London according to his mother. “Besides, when I heard H.W. Bentley would be here, it seemed worth travelling the distance.”
“You’ll not find London worth travelling the distance for,” Catherine said with a snort. “It’s full of smoke and pompous people. You should stay here with us instead for the duration of the season.”
His lips quirked. The lass did not know how tempting that was. “Will you ladies not be going to London then?”
“Catherine is the only one of us not out yet but Lavinia will be doing the season in four weeks,” Amelia explained.
Catherine giggled. “Mama is not bothering with the rest of us again. I shall likely never go, and I am glad.”
“Catherine,” hissed Julia.
“What? I am only telling the truth.” Catherine gave her sister a nudge with an elbow.
“Is it very beautiful where you live, my laird?” Lavinia asked hastily, silencing the two sisters.
“Oh aye. Sweeping mountains and generous lochs. It can be mightily cold but I would not live anywhere else.”
Which kept leading him back to the question that had been plaguing him since it was decided he would come and find himself a bride—how would an English woman fit in amongst all the ruggedness?
“And you live in a castle?” Lavinia took a slice of bread from him and their fingers brushed. She stilled.
As did his heart. He flexed his hand as tingles raced down his fingertips. Glancing up at her, his gaze met her hazel one, and he noted the widening of her pupils. She looked away first but he could not help eye her perfect profile and the way she drew in deep breaths between lips made for kissing.
He swallowed the knot bunching in his throat and turned his attention back to the bread.
“Well?” demanded Catherine.
“Well?” He peered at her.
The youngest sister gave him an amused look. “Do you live in a castle?”
Lord, he’d forgotten Lavinia had even asked him that. “Aye.” He could not bring himself to say much more, even though he could talk about the castle and its history for hours normally. Not when his mind was a whirl.
He looked over their progress. “I think we have enough now. Let us get this food over to the assembly hall before anyone complains.”
“We’ll take these.” Julia motioned to the smaller plates. “And you and Lavinia should take that bigger one.”
Niall did not miss the look that swung between the sisters. Apparently, he had not been the only one to feel the attraction between him and Lavinia. Perhaps he did not need to go to London at all.
Chapter Five
Hands to hips, Lavinia eyed the empty assembly rooms. How on earth did they end up solely in charge of this event? The food and drink had been consumed, and the event finished, but now she and her sisters were tasked with cleaning up the mess.
Chairs needed to be put away and the leftovers had to be plated up. She supposed the best thing to do would be to give what they could to the church so they could distribute what was left quickly. After that, they would need to return the plates to the inn. Where the innkeeper was, she did not know.
Amelia came to stand at her side and surveyed the mess. “I suppose we had better get started. It’s a shame no one thought to stay and help.”
“Why they want us to do it all, I do not know!” said Catherine, picking up a lone cream cake and taking a large bite. “No one trusts us to do anything.” She spoke around the sponge.
Lavinia sighed, and her gaze fell to the chair on which the laird had been seated. It was silly but she could not cease watching him while Mr. Bentley finished up his talk. Just thinking about how the man seemed to dominate the space in the room with his broad shoulders made her legs tremble. And if she contemplated what it had felt like when his fingers brushed hers, she swore she might faint.
“They trust Lavinia,” Julia reminded them all, picking up a dirty napkin and wrinkling her nose before flinging it back onto a plate.
“And Amelia sometimes,” added Emma. She folded her arms and twisted on the spot. “I hardly know where to start.”
Lavinia looked to their sister. While the whole village seemed to think Lavinia was the only sister capable of anything, Amelia was actually far better at organizing, even if they had all frozen after the food disaster this afternoon.
Thank goodness for Niall. He had managed to save them from their flustering and by some miracle, really did know something about food. How odd it was. The towering Scot was such a contradiction—comfortable in the kitchen and well-read, not to mention thoroughly charming.
Amelia pursed her lips. “Let us gather up what food can be saved, then throw away the rest. After that we’ll stack the plates and take them back to the inn and clean up the room.”
“I think we made too much food after all that panic. There is plenty left.” Julia gesture to the tables that were set out at the side of the room.
&n
bsp; “Thanks to Niall.” Catherine swung a sideways look at Lavinia. “What a hero he was.”
Julia snorted. “Hero? Catherine, are you well? Normally you cannot find a single thing to appreciate in the opposite sex.”
“Well, he does wear a kilt and speaks so beautifully,” Emma said softly.
“I overheard Mrs. Lowe complaining about his accent. She said it sounds boorish.” Catherine shrugged. “I don’t see how it is any more boorish than many of the English accents. Do you remember when we went to Somerset and that farmer scolded me? I couldn’t understand a single word he said!”
Lavinia pressed her lips together. She recalled the incident and Catherine had been accused of harassing his sheep after wanting to give one a cuddle. The man’s thick accent had been close to impossible to understand.
Certainly nothing like Niall’s. She could close her eyes and listen to his lilt all day long.
Amelia took the lead and started sorting out the food, stacking what could be saved into one of the empty baskets. “Most of the young women adore him but I’m not certain about the older women. Though some are certainly keen on the idea of a laird for a son-in-law.”
“Not Mama,” Julia pointed out as she brought some food over and placed it in the basket.
“That does not bother Lavinia, though.” Catherine nudged Lavinia. “I saw you looking at him. And I’m fairly certain he was looking back.”
“Oh...” Lavinia hardly knew how to respond, especially as heat flowed into her cheeks. She could not tell if it was embarrassment from the idea that her sisters had noticed her fascination or the fact that Catherine had confirmed his interest in her.
He was interested in her, was he not? Or had she misread it all?
“I’m surprised you are interested in him,” Amelia said, her tone low. “He’s quite the gentleman,” she added, “but I hear he is also quite the rake. At least that’s what Mama’s friends were saying.”
Lavinia opened her mouth then shut it. She could see how someone could make that assumption. After all, he was always surrounded by women and a man with such attractive looks and a sort of wild allure would find it easy indeed to play the rake. But, somehow, that did not settle right with her. There was more to Niall Campbell than that, of that she was certain.
“Mama’s friends are influenced by her dislike of his aunt, I suspect.” Lavinia scooped up several uneaten slices of pie and added them to the basket.
Amelia nodded. “Oh I do not doubt you are right, just be cautious.”
Lavinia chuckled. “When have I ever not been cautious?”
Amelia smiled. Lavinia knew why she did not argue with her. She had trodden carefully for her entire life. Everyone in the village thought her so perfect, so...so wonderful, that she dare not ruin that. Lavinia frowned to herself. She was not entirely certain why.
Lavinia picked up a large platter of cream cakes that could not be salvaged and turned.
“Oh!”
She collided directly with Julia, the plate tilting and several of the cakes crushing against her sister’s chest. Cream smeared across the pale yellow of her gown and one cake dropped to the floor.
Lavinia grimaced. “Oh, Julia, I am so sorry, I—”
Slowly, Julia picked up a cake. It took Lavinia a moment to realize her intention. With both hands clutching the plate, there was nothing she could do. “Julia, don’t you dare—”
The cake hit her in the face, cold and wet, before plopping to the floor. Slightly melted cream dripped down her nose. Lavinia gasped.
Julia grinned. “Now we are even.”
Lavinia set the plate down and shook her head as she swiped the cream from her face. “Hardly!” She slowly curled her fingers around a cake. “You got a little cream on your dress, I have it all over my face now.” She whirled swiftly, striking Julia directly on the forehead with the cake. Julia gasped.
“There,” announced Lavinia. “Now we are even.”
Julia made a race for the plate of cakes but Amelia stepped in the way. “We’re meant to be cleaning, not creating more mess!” Amelia stiffened and gasped, stepping forward to reveal Catherine holding a giant handful of cake, cream seeping out from between her fingers. Cream and crumbs were smeared over the back of Amelia’s neck.
Chaos ensured. Emma joined in, and they all reached for the plate of leftovers, scooping up handfuls and flinging it. Lavinia tossed the cake indiscriminately, laughing when sweet, sticky buttercream icing dripped down her chin. When she lunged forward to throw another handful, her footing went on the slippery filling and she fell hard on her bottom.
“Oof.” She peered up at her sisters, who stilled in surprise. All were covered in food and were wielding fistfuls of dessert. “That hurt.” She rubbed her rear and winced. That would leave a bruise.
Her sisters parted suddenly and a hand thrust out to help her up. She took it before thinking, her tacky fingers curling around the masculine warmth. Her chest tightened and she had to fight to draw in a long breath when she noted the kilted legs. Running her gaze upward, she met eyes crinkled with amusement.
Niall helped her to her feet and released her hand slowly. Lavinia brushed what mess she could off her skirt and grimaced. What must they look like?
“I did come to offer my aid but it seems you need more than one hand to clean up this mess.” His lips curved.
“We had a little accident with some cake,” Catherine said sweetly.
One of his brows rose. “A little accident? This looks more like a catastrophe.”
“Forgive me, my laird,” Lavinia apologized hastily. “This was my fault. I should not have—”
He held up a hand. “Whatever happened today stays between us. And I imagine if you felt the need to, um, teach someone a lesson, shall we say, then it was well-deserved.”
Lavinia blew out a breath. Of course he would not go tattling on them and making her sisters pariahs even more than they already were.
“I hardly think it was well-deserved,” huffed Julia, folding her arms across her cream covered bosom. “I only threw a tiny bit of cake.”
Despite Julia’s protests, a smile curved her lips. It had probably been the most fun they had had all day, though Lavinia suspected they would regret it once they returned home in such a mess. Even if they did manage to sneak past their mother, they would have the housekeeper to contend with. At least their father was travelling for work—not that he liked to get too involved when they misbehaved—but it was one less person to worry about.
“I suppose we had better get back to work. We’ve just created a lot more for ourselves.” Amelia propped her hands on her hips and surveyed the mess. “And be careful. Lavinia already showed us how slippery it is.”
Niall swung a look Lavinia’s way and she could not help but be snared by it. Her fingers still tingled from the warmth of his hand surrounding them. They had been slightly rough, as though he worked with his hands, unlike every noble man she had ever met. If she got the chance, she would have to ask him more about his life in Scotland.
They set to work clearing up the extra mess they had made and thankfully Niall volunteered to take all the supplies back to the inn so they did not risk running into anyone who had taken up residence there after the talk. How they would completely escape the assembly room without notice, Lavinia didn’t yet know, but they had a lot more work ahead of them. Once they cleared the food, they set to work moving the chairs.
“You should stop staring,” murmured Julia to Lavinia. “You are making it obvious.” She paused. “Though, I can see why you are.”
Lavinia ignored her sister and forced her gaze away from Niall. With his jacket removed, every time he lifted a chair, she saw how his muscles flexed against the cotton. It was somewhat mesmerizing and made her feel hot and itchy. She went back to forcefully scrubbing the tables and focusing on the wood grain in an attempt to stop her gaze from betraying her.
By the time they were finished, the evidence of their misbehavior was gone. Ap
art from on themselves. Lavinia grimaced and plucked a crumb from her hair. “However shall we escape unseen?”
Niall chuckled as he finished wiping his hands on a cloth. “You have quite a lot of cream just...” He motioned to her cheek.
She swiped her face with the back of a hand but he shook his head.
“No. May I?” He proffered a cloth.
Numbly, she nodded. Her heart thudded heavily in her chest when he took a step forward until there was no more than a pace separating them. Niall dabbed her cheek, swiping away whatever remnants there were, his gaze never leaving hers. She forgot to breathe. His startling eyes grew dark.
“Lavinia—”
“Quick! We have to make a dash for it.” Catherine tugged Lavinia’s arm, breaking the moment.
Lavinia blinked at her sister. “What?”
“Amelia just peeked her head out. Mr. Bentley is back in the village to visit the inn and everyone has crowded around him. Now’s our chance to escape.” Catherine gave her arm another tug.
“Go.” Niall gave her a lopsided smile. “I am sure it shall not be long before I see you again.”
Heat warmed her face. “Hopefully I shall be a little more presentable next time.”
His smile expanded. “I rather like you covered in cake.”
Lavinia stole one last glance at him as they escaped the assembly rooms. He watched her leave and her heart seemed to expand. She hoped what he said was true and that it would not be long before she saw him again.
Chapter Six
Though the English countryside was not as dramatic as his home’s, there was much to be appreciated about the expanses of fields and the great swathes of forests, intertwined with lazy rivers. Niall could see why Bentley had decided to set a book here. This place had all the charm of a fairytale village.
He smiled to himself while he followed the path through the woods. Of course, it was not just the fields or the rivers that appealed. He let his grin expand as he thought of Lavinia, covered in cream and crumbs in a messy pile on the floor.
Pausing to pick up a stick and fling it far into the river, he considered the futility of his plan. His aunt had muttered something about the Chadwicks living a little way out of the village to the east. Even if he found their home, he could not very well barge in and demand an audience with them—or Lavinia. He’d also had to be wary as Aunt Joyce’s dislike of Mrs. Chadwick had been quite clear, and he’d been unable to press further. Why the women loathed each other, he had little idea, but his aunt would say nothing more on it.
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