The Scottish Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 6)

“Hello, Mother. Forgive me for coming to you like this, but I’m still not feeling quite the thing again.”

“You look just fine, Mary Rose. There is color in your cheeks, you are the very bloom of health. Even your toes look healthy. You needn’t worry about clothes. We will go directly back to Vallance Manor and you can stay in your bed there. Vicar, please put my daughter in the carriage.”

“I don’t think so, ma’am,” Tysen said. “Mary Rose doesn’t feel safe at Vallance Manor.”

“That is absurd. It is also unimportant. I am her mother and she will obey me. There is no chaperone here. Come along, Mary Rose.”

“Hello, ma’am. I am Lady Ashburnham. I am his lordship’s sister and he invited me here to chaperone Mary Rose.”

Excellent, Gweneth Fordyce thought, smiling at the lovely young woman striding toward her, long-legged, full of energy, looking quite a bit like the vicar. Yes, she had the same dazzling blue eyes as her brother.

What an absolute relief. She’d kept her promise to her sister and to Lyon. She’d argued and ordered, and now this. It was hard not to laugh her pleasure aloud. Now she didn’t have to say anything more. She’d been trumped by the appearance of Lady Ashburnham, and even Lyon at his most critical would have to agree that she’d done all she could.

“A pleasure, my lady,” she said to the young woman, who also had a sparkling smile. A handsome pair they were. The vicar was very smart indeed. “Now I must go. Mary Rose, attend me. You will endeavor not to be a burden to his lordship.”

“No, Mama, I’ll try not to be. Won’t you stay for a cup of tea?”

“Oh, no,” Gweneth said and nodded to the coachman, who quickly assisted her back into the carriage. She straightened her shawl, smoothed the ribbons on her bonnet. She looked toward the people standing not six feet away from the carriage. The last sight she had of Mary Rose was her smiling shyly up into the vicar’s face.

Be happy, my darling, she thought, and waved to her daughter.

The carriage rolled out of the inner courtyard.

“That is your mother, Mary Rose?” Sinjun asked.

“Yes,” Mary Rose said, and she was frowning at the carriage dust billowing into the clear air. Her mother had said all the right things at first, all with the objective of getting her to go back to Vallance Manor. But the fact was, her mother hadn’t wanted her to return to Vallance Manor with her, not at all. But why?

Tysen said thoughtfully, “At the beginning, I didn’t care much for your mother, but this time, after she spouted the nonsense, she was genuinely pleased with things just as they are. Yes, I like your mother, Mary Rose. She isn’t like all that many mothers I’ve met to date, but she loves you. I wonder what she would have done if Sinjun hadn’t chosen to show herself?”

“Meggie came into the drawing room and grabbed me. She told me I had to be a chaperone, quickly, because she was just a trifle too young to have anyone take her seriously, and so she pushed me out the front door.” Sinjun looked thoughtfully after the coach that had disappeared through the front gates. “She didn’t want you to go with her, Mary Rose, despite everything else she said. Now, isn’t that strange?”

“No,” Tysen said. “She knows that Erickson MacPhail would probably be invited into Vallance Manor and allowed to carry Mary Rose out over his shoulder. She’s protecting her. It was well done.”

Meggie wandered out now, but she wasn’t looking at them, she was looking at the gaggle of geese that were now honking loudly at the sight of her. They’d been hovering close by her for the past three days. Just yesterday, they’d come right up to her, honking just as loudly, and she had given them all the bread she could steal from Mrs. MacFardle’s kitchen. Now she knew them. In minutes, they would be surrounding her, their chicks hovering close. “Oh, dear,” Meggie said, picking up her skirts and running back into the castle. She called over her shoulder, “I’ll be right back with some bread for them!”

Tysen laughed. “Maybe they can nibble on that crooked toe of yours, Mary Rose.”

“What crooked toe?” Sinjun asked and picked up Mary Rose’s foot.

“Oh, my, don’t, please, Sinjun. Tysen has already seen my toes.”

“He has, has he? Now isn’t that interesting?”

“Be quiet, Sinjun. Oh, here is Donnatella. I’m glad she came down. I believe you have enjoyed quite enough of her delightful company?” He cocked a brow at her.

“Yes. She wanted me to come back with her to Vallance Manor. It seems that everyone wants me back there. How is your back?”

“I believe I will put you down in the drawing room and pour tea down your gullet. I am too blown to make it back up those stairs carrying you.”

Sinjun could but stare after her brother as he walked back up the steps into the castle. He wasn’t acting the way he usually did. He wasn’t being depressingly serious with nary a smile anywhere near his mouth. He was actually smiling, a beautiful smile, and it seemed to suit him very well.

Now he was amusing, he seemed to understand wit very well. But the most remarkable thing—he seemed happy. He was overflowing with it. So many years since she’d seen him like this, nearly more years than she could remember. She’d been so very young when he’d decided he wanted to be a man of God and had become as serious as an abbot and so pious she’d wanted to shoot him. Sinjun decided on the spot that she would kill for Mary Rose if ever the need arose.

When they walked into the drawing room, there was Colin standing next to Donnatella, who was leaning toward him, her hand on his sleeve.

Sinjun recognized the signs immediately. Donnatella was extraordinarily lovely, however, and it appeared to Sinjun that Colin wasn’t looking at all hunted, like he usually did when the ladies tracked him down and cornered him.

Sinjun said, “Would you mind if I stuck my fist in your cousin’s face, Mary Rose?”