Jamie's face contorted. "Da' made her. She came." He shuddered and took a long sip of his port. "It was horrific. The arguments-the shouting. I thought Da' would have a seizure, she goaded him that much. I don't think he'd ever had anyone argue back like she did-I wouldna dared."
As he drank more port, Jamie's accent emerged; like many Scots of his age, he'd learned to suppress it.
"She didna want to stay-Da' wanted her here. He had plans afoot to marry her well-she needed someone to take care of her lands, he thought."
"Her lands?"
"The vale." Jamie drained his glass. "She owns the whole damned valley from head to mouth. But she wasn't having any of Da''s plans. Said she knew what she was doing, she had The Lady to guide her, and she would, on her mother's gr
ave, obey The Lady, not Da'. She was dead set against marriage. Mind you, when those lairds who'd offered for her on the strength of her lands actually met her, they sang a different tune. All the offers dissolved like mist in a strong breeze."
Richard frowned, wondering if Scottish notions of feminine attractions were so different.
"Of course, everyone o' them was imagining bedding her, until they spoke to her." Jamie's lips quirked; he exchanged a conspiratorial glance with Richard. "She scared 'em silly-the beggars came from Edinburgh and Glasgow, or one of the cities, lairds in need of estates. They didna know about The Lady, and to hear Catriona tell it, if they displeased her at all, she wouldha' turned 'em into toads. Or eels. Or some such slimy creature."
Richard grinned. "They believed her?"
"Aye, well-when she wants to be believed, she can be that persuasive."
Recalling the power he'd heard her wield twice, Richard had no difficulty believing that.
"And that other one, Algaria-Miss O'Rourke-was there to help. So,"-Jamie reached for the decanter-"after that, there were no more offers. Da' was livid-Catriona was unmovable. The fighting raged for weeks."
"And?"
"She won." Jamie set down his glass. "She went back to the vale, an' that was that. Da' never spoke of her again. I didna think she'd agree to live here now, but Mary said we should at least ask. Especially after finding the letters."
"Letters?"
"Offers for her lands, rather than her hand. Heaps of 'em. Some from the lairds who'd given up notions of bedding her, others from all over, some from her neighbors in the Lowlands. All, however, for a pittance." Again Jamie drained his glass. "I found the pile in Da"s desk-he'd scrawled comments on many." Jamie's lips twisted. "Like 'Bah! Am I a fool?' "
"The land's good?"
"Good?" Jamie set down his glass. "You won't find better in Scotland." He met Richard's eye. "According to Catriona and her people, The Lady sees to that."
Richard raised his brows.
"Aye, well." With a rueful grimace, Jamie pushed back his chair. "We'd best get back to the drawing room."
Entering the long room beside Jamie, Richard paused just beyond the threshold. To one side, Catriona stood chatting to one of Jamie's colorless sisters. Perhaps chatting was the wrong word-from her gestures, lecturing might be nearer the mark. The ever watchful Miss O'Rourke stood silently, hands clasped, by Catriona's shoulder; her gaze, black and expressionless, was already fixed on him. Richard resisted the urge to grin wickedly at her; instead, with his usual grace, he crossed to pay his compliments to his hostess.
Mary was easily flattered, easily flustered; Richard spent some time calming her, until she could smile at him and answer his questions.
"She doesn't seem to see any need for a husband." Her eyes darted to Catriona, then returned to his face. "It seems odd, I know, but she has been running the manor for six years now, and I gather everything goes smoothly." Another darting glance lingered on Catriona's elegant dark lavender gown. "She certainly seems to want for nothing, and she's never made any claim on the McEnerys."
"I'm surprised,"-Richard affected his most indolent drawl-"that there are no local aspirants to her hand. Or does the valley boast only a few souls?"
"Oh, no. The population's quite considerable, I believe. But none of the young men would look to Catriona, you know." Mary regarded him earnestly. "She's their 'lady,' you see. The lady of the vale."
"Ah." Richard nodded, although he didn't see at all, but there was a limit to how far he could question even sweet Mary without raising suspicions. But he wanted to understand who and what Catriona Hennessy was, and how she'd come to be so. She was an intriguing "lady" on a number of fronts; he'd been so bored, she was a breath of fresh air-a fresh taste to his jaded palate.
He glanced her way and saw her look sharply at Algaria O'Rourke as the older woman struggled to suppress a yawn. The conversation that ensued was easy to follow; Catriona, moved by concern, pulled rank and ordered her watchdog to bed. Richard quickly looked away-and felt, a second later, the older woman's suspicious glance. But she went, passing the tea trolley on her way. The butler stationed the trolley before Mary.
"Let me help." Richard collected the first two cups Mary poured. "I'll take them to Miss Hennessy and…"
"Meg," Mary supplied with a smile. "If you would be so kind."
Richard smiled and moved away.