“Thank you,” she said. “But I don’t want to put you to any trouble—or put you in danger. Not over silly pieces of jewelry.”
“It’s not silly,” Jeannie said with dogged loyalty. “Your mamma gave you that ring.”
“Yes, but the fact that you’re safe is what truly matters to me,” Kathleen replied.
“That you are all safe,” Brown said, soulfully pressing a hand to his chest. “Miss Calvert, your safety counts more than any piece of jewelry, no matter how precious.”
Grant’s eyes narrowed to irritated slits as he studied the vicar.
“Thank you,” Kathleen hastily said, hoping Brown didn’t notice Grant’s rather mystifying disapproval.
“If there’s anything I can do to help,” Brown added, “you need simply ask. You and your sister both, of course.”
Jeannie clasped her hands. “Thank you, sir.”
Kathleen tried to ignore the fact that the twins were now regarding the vicar with identically sardonic expressions.
Then Grant looked over at her. “Never fear, Kathleen. Graeme will find your jewels.”
She blinked, startled by the use of her given name as well as by the quiet confidence in his voice.
“Ah, yes,” she said, blushing like a complete idiot.
Kathleen knew herself to be the opposite of shy, but there was something about Grant Kendrick that made her go warm and cozy inside, as if he’d just snuggled her up in a deliciously warm blanket.
Idiot. You’d have better luck with the vicar.
Sadly, she didn’t want the vicar’s attention.
“I’d make more progress with this problem if you weren’t so ready to hare off back to Glasgow,” Graeme said to his twin.
“Please don’t run off, dear,” Sabrina added. “You know we’d love for you to stay.”
Grant’s gaze remained on Kathleen for a moment before he gave Sabrina a polite smile. “I’d like nothing better, but I can’t leave Royal in a lurch.”
“Och,” Graeme said. “Royal can manage.”
“Sir Graeme, please feel free to call on me if you need any assistance,” Brown earnestly said. “I am more than happy to do what I can to assist you in addressing these nefarious incidents.”
Grant, again quite pointedly, rolled his eyes.
Jeannie put down her teacup. “What nefarious incidents are you talking about? Have there been other robberies?”
“Nothing at all to worry about, my dear.” Sabrina transferred another scone to the girl’s plate. “Kathleen, I cannot tell you how happy I am that you’re here. My gardens are a dreadful mess. Our gardener, a lovely fellow but quite elderly, desperately needs some expert help.”
That was a clear dodge, of course, intended to distract Jeannie.
“I’m simply an amateur,” Kathleen replied, “though I’m certainly happy to help.”
“How interesting,” Grant said, picking up the discussion. “Do you actually design gardens?”
“Kath knows everything about gardens,” Jeannie said. “She even planted one of the kitchen gardens at Greystone Court, in Ireland.”
“Goodness, Miss Calvert,” the vicar said in an admiring tone. “You are clearly a woman of many talents.”
That unfortunate compliment arrested Jeannie’s attention, and her gaze flickered suspiciously between Kathleen and Brown.
“I only did some of the work, dearest,” she hastily said. “I simply helped our head gardener. It’s really a hobby more than anything else.”
It was more than that, of course. But she rarely had the opportunity to exercise one of her few true skills, because Helen wouldn’t let her anywhere near the ornamental gardens.
Sabrina gave her an encouraging smile. “The preliminary designs you sent along are excellent.”
Kathleen wriggled her fingers. “I’m a bit rusty. I do hope your gardener won’t mind me mucking about and experimenting a bit.”
“Since our gardener spends most of his time dozing in the potting shed,” Graeme said, “you’ll be just fine.”
“I also enjoy gardening,” Brown said. “Please call on me, if needed. And if you and your sister wish to leave Lochnagar at any time, perhaps to visit Dunlaggan, I would be happy to escort you—especially after today’s distressing events.”
“Which will not be repeated,” Graeme firmly said.
Brown gave him a gracious nod. “I have every confidence you will see the villains brought to justice, Sir Graeme. Given how busy you are, I am simply expressing my willingness to serve as escort for Miss Calvert and her sister. You cannot wish the ladies to go about alone.”
“That’s why we have footmen,” Graeme replied. “To escort the ladies.”
“And your parish work must keep you busy,” Grant added in a bland voice. “All those elderly widows must take up a fair bit of your time, not to mention the preparation for your sermons. They’re rather long, as I recall from my last visit.”
Graeme choked out a laugh that he quickly smothered when Sabrina scowled at him.
“Blasted macaroons,” he said. “Coconut always gets caught in my throat.”
“My widows are no problem, Mr. Kendrick,” Brown said in a dignified tone. “And I am quite efficient when it comes to writing my sermons. I will have plenty of time to help Miss Calvert. With anything.”
Hell and damnation.
On top of everything else, why did she need the blasted vicar complicating her life?
Behind Mr. Brown’s back, the twins looked at each other and rolled their eyes at exactly the same moment.
“Goodness, look at the time,” Sabrina said, making a show of peering at the gilded bronze clock on the mantel. “Gus should be awake by now.”
Graeme snorted. “If not, Angus will have seen to it.”
Almost as soon as they’d stepped foot out of the carriage, Angus had insisted on going to the nursery to see his new great-grandson and namesake. Sabrina had tried to persuade him to wait until the infant was awake, but the old fellow was not to be denied.
“You know Grandda and babies,” Grant said with a wry smile. “An entire Sassenach brigade couldn’t keep him away from the latest Kendrick bairn.”
“The poor nursemaids will probably smother Angus with a pillow before the week is out,” Graeme commented.
The vicar, predictably, looked shocked.
“I can’t wait for you to meet our darling boy,” Sabrina said to Kathleen. “Even though he’s mine, I think he’s the most adorable baby ever born.”
“He’s a fine boy, Lady Kendrick,” Brown said.
“Even if he did scream all the way through his christening,” Sabrina joked. “I hope he’ll be better behaved for our guests.”
Kathleen mentally sighed. Crying babies—it wanted only this to make life perfectly annoying.
An awkward silence descended on the group.
“Well, I suppose I should be going,” Brown finally said with reluctance.
“I suppose you should,” Grant replied.
Kathleen almost gaped at him.
Sabrina, as usual, smoothly covered the awkward moment.
“My dear David, thank you so much for your help.” She rose to give the vicar her hand. “We’re ever so grateful.”
“Can’t Mr. Brown stay for dinner?” Jeannie asked in a plaintive voice. “He’s had a trying day too, you know.”
“Er,” Sabrina said in hesitation, as Brown looked at her hopefully.
They were interrupted by the fortuitous appearance of Angus, carrying a small bundle wrapped in a gaily colored tartan plaid. Sadly, the bundle was emitting considerable and decidedly unhappy noises.
“The laddie’s awake,” Angus said. “And he’s a wee bit chippy.”
“Oh, dear.” Sabrina hurried over. “He’s been colicky, poor love.”
She took the bundle from Angus, murmuring soothing coos as she expertly rocked him in her arms. Unfortunately, the wailing only grew louder.
Jeannie scrunched up her nose. “
Do all colicky babies cry like that?”
“I’m afraid so,” Graeme said, raising his voice over the racket.
The vicar looked appropriately sympathetic. “Poor little tyke.”
“It’s the wind,” Angus said. “It’ll pass.”
Graeme winked at his grandfather. “Literally, one hopes.”
“Takes after his da,” Angus commented. “Graeme was always a windy one. All but blew the puir nursemaids out of the room.”
He punctuated that bon mot by providing a verbal approximation of such windiness.
“I really must be going, Lady Kendrick,” the vicar quickly said as he turned three shades of red.
Sabrina gave him a pained smile. “Graeme, please show David out.”
“Not necessary.” Brown was now backing toward the door. “Miss Calvert, I hope to see you—”
The baby suddenly emitted a sound that remarkably echoed his great-grandfather’s verbal effort.
Brown turned and fled.
“Goodbye,” Kathleen called after him. “Thank . . . oh, well, I suppose I’ll have to thank him later.”
“Grandda, that was quite rude,” Sabrina sternly said.
“It was a bit much, even for you,” Graeme added.
Angus shrugged. “Did the trick, though. Yon parson couldn’t wait to escape.”
“Finally,” Grant said.
Sabrina jiggled the crying baby. “David is a very nice man, if a bit earnest.”
“And that nice man has a schoolboy crush on my wife,” Graeme said. “Which is more than a little annoying.”
“Nonsense, dear. And David is an excellent vicar.”
“Excellent at unexpectedly calling at dinnertime,” her husband replied.
“He’s just a little lonely.”
“He can be lonely with someone else for a change.” He flashed a sly smile at Kathleen. “Like—”
Jeannie jumped to her feet, her cheeks flushed. “I think he’s splendid, and I intend to tell him just that. In fact, I’m going to ask him for a drive around Lochnagar. Maybe I could send him a note tomorrow.”
“That was very nice of him to offer, dear,” Kathleen said. “But perhaps we could settle in a bit before imposing ourselves on Mr. Brown. He is, after all, a busy man.”
Jeannie whipped around to glare at her. “He already said he had time. Why are you being so mean about him?”
Kathleen held up her hands. “I’m not being mean, but we just met the man. Not to mention we just got robbed, and I’m sure—”
“I don’t care about any of that,” Jeannie exclaimed. “And I don’t care what anyone says. I think Mr. Brown is wonderful.”
“Yes, dearest, but—”
Jeannie stalked from the room.
“Our Miss Jeannie is obviously a feisty lass,” Graeme wryly said.
Kathleen sighed. “Sorry. She’s not usually this . . .”
“Fashed?” he supplied.
“I suppose that’s as good a word as any. Again, I apologize for her behavior. How dreadful that we’ve both been foisted on you.”
“Nonsense,” Sabrina said. “We’re thrilled that you’re here.”
“Jeannie’s a grand little lass,” Grant said to Kathleen. “She had a proper fright today, so she’s unsettled. She’ll get over it soon.”
“I hope she gets over the vicar soon,” Kathleen gloomily replied.
“Well, at least she’s over our Kade,” Angus said.
Graeme lifted an eyebrow. “Do I even want to know?”
“Definitely not,” Kathleen said.
Sabrina smiled. “We’ll get Jeannie sorted. Right now, it’s time to meet Master Angus Musgrave Kendrick, better known as Gus.”
Kathleen mustered a smile. “I would be delighted, of course.”
“Would you like to hold him?” Sabrina asked, bringing him over.
“Oh, best not,” Kathleen hastily said. “He’s still crying.”
“He’ll do that anyway,” Graeme said. “You should probably get used to it.”
“Still, ah—”
When Sabrina plopped the baby in Kathleen’s arms, she had no choice but to take him.
Her cousin arranged Kathleen’s left arm. “Just shift a bit to support his little head.”
She carefully made the adjustment. “I’m not very good with babies, Sabrina.”
“You’re doing fine. Just rock him.”
She awkwardly rocked the baby, clutching him tightly. No matter how windy or loud he got, she would not drop him.
“Huh,” said Angus after several moments. “Would ye look at that?”
Kathleen glanced at him. “Look at what?”
“He’s stopped cryin’, ye ken.”
Kathleen looked at the bundle in her arms, truly focusing for the first time. A red-haired baby with flushed, damp cheeks and a soft green gaze stared up at her, apparently transfixed. And although he gave a few quiet hiccups, he had definitely stopped crying. In fact, he seemed to be smiling at her.
“You’re a natural,” Sabrina said, beaming.
“Thank God,” Graeme said. “You can help out the nursemaids. I swear they’re ready to give their notice.”
“But I’m terrible with babies, and children, too,” Kathleen protested as she rocked Gus. “Just look at Jeannie. I can’t do anything to make her behave.”
Grant strolled up to her, a warm smile lighting his eyes—eyes that were the same color as the baby’s fascinated gaze. That warm smile rather muddled her insides.
Or perhaps it was just her astonishment that she had not dropped Gus, and that he appeared content in her arms.
“Well, lass,” Grant said, his deep voice infused with his lovely Highland brogue, “it seems that yer, in fact, the very opposite of terrible.”
Chapter Twelve
Grant held up his glass as Graeme joined him at the hearth. His twin’s small study was well appointed with sturdy furniture and a splendid view out the bay windows to the peaks in the distance.
“I thought Brown would never take himself off, but leave it to Angus to do the trick,” Graeme said as he poured Grant a dram.
“If there’s one thing Grandda excels at it’s offending the best sorts of people.”
Graeme settled into the matching leather club chair on the other side of the hearth, propping a booted foot against a cast-iron firedog. “You weren’t on your best party manners with Brown, either, I noticed. What set you off, old man?”
Grant leisurely studied the pale liquid in his glass, then took a swallow before he replied. “This is excellent. Almost as good as the stuff we used to distill at Kinglas.”
Graeme snorted. “It’s a damn sight better than our old home brew. Although I will say that our youthful escapades have been surprisingly helpful in setting up the new distillery.”
“Is that what we’re calling it now? Youthful escapades?”
After they’d been booted out of university, Grant and Graeme had returned home and set up an illegal still in a remote glen on Kinglas lands. Angus had come up with the idea to keep them busy and out of trouble. It also put extra blunt in their pockets, since they were able to sell three or four small casks a month to local publicans who were willing to keep secret their source.
Poor Nick had known nothing about the mad scheme until customs agents had come knocking on the castle door. Their big brother had been forced to pay a large fine to keep them out of trouble. It had resulted in a tremendous row, exacerbated when Angus had insisted it was the God-given right of any Scotsman to make his own whisky, Sassenach laws be damned. Vicky, Kade’s governess at the time, had finally convinced Nick not to toss them all out on their sorry arses.
From that moment on, Vicky had made it her mission to see that all the Kendrick men trod the straight and narrow before they drove her future husband completely out of his mind. Given what hardheads they all were, especially Angus, she’d been remarkably successful.
Graeme flashed a crooked grin. “Sometimes a spot of crime
does actually pay.”
“And you call yourself a magistrate.”
“Rather ironic, you must admit.”
“‘Insane’ is the word I’d be inclined to use. But on a serious note, oh great Sir Graeme, why the hell are highwaymen roaming about your district? And why did you need to drag me away from the others to discuss it?”
“Drag you away from Kathleen, I believe you mean,” his brother said with an annoying smirk.
“That is not what I meant, and stop trying to bait me. It won’t work.”
“No? Then why are you scowling at me?”
“Because you’re a tosser?”
His brother laughed. “All right, but you were fashed with Brown. Admit it.”
“I admit to nothing except for concern that the ladies apparently can’t step foot outside the house without protection.”
Graeme shook his head. “I’m thinking Jeannie is the biggest worry. That girl seems like an accident waiting to happen. And I cannot tell you how thrilled I am to be the one now tasked with keeping her out of trouble for the next three months.”
“Sorry, old man, but it wasn’t my idea,” Grant replied with a sympathetic grimace.
Graeme frowned at the small peat fire simmering in the grate. “I know. It’s just that I’m up to my ears with a new baby, a new distillery, and a very not new estate to get back in order. Poor Sabrina is also run off her feet, although she puts a good face on it.”
“From what I can tell, you’ve done a bang-up job on the estate. It’s looking miles better than it was the last time I was here.” Grant held up his glass. “And you’re clearly having success with this, too.”
“Who knew that a motley band of former smugglers could produce such an excellent product?”
That was yet another amusing irony of his twin’s life. Lochnagar Distilleries had grown out of a local smuggling ring Graeme had broken up last year. The smugglers had even kidnapped him at one point. That’s when Graeme had met Magnus Barr. Magnus had never been comfortable with a life of crime and had leapt at Graeme’s offer to open a legal operation, made possible by recent changes to the law. As it so happened, the former smuggler was already crafting some of the finest whisky in the Highlands.
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