Page 74 of The Last Debutante
Jamie shook his head, confused.
Frustrated, Geordie slapped his hand on his slate.
“What have we to lose?” Robbie said with a shrug. “We were set on the marriage before Geordie raised a bloody hand, aye? It was to our advantage, we said. It was our fault that she cried off. No’ a bloody thing has changed—it’s still the best arrangement for us.”
“Aye,” Duff agreed. “I canna think of a better option for us.”
“Neither can I,” Jamie said, and Geordie huffed impatiently. “But if I were to say no,” he added carefully, eliciting a gasp from Duff and a wide-eyed look of surprise from Robbie, “we might drain the marsh. They may surround us with sheep, aye, but we could drain the marsh and farm it.”
Duff’s eyes narrowed. He placed his beefy hands on the table before him. “Beggin’ your pardon, Laird, but are you suggesting that youno’marry the Brodie lass?”
“I’m no’ suggesting that, no,” Jamie said calmly, and rubbed his thumb along the gash in the chair. “But we must consider all our options.”
“Draining the marsh,” Robbie repeated skeptically. “You would take the suggestion of a slip of an English woman with no more experience than a mockingbird?” He clucked, waving a hand dismissively at his cousin.
“No experience, aye,” Jamie agreed. “But you must admit it makes a wee bit of sense.”
I,Geordie wrote.
Duff looked at Jamie as if he thought he’d lost his mind. “We need heirs, lad. Draining the marsh might make a wee bit of sense, but it canna give you heirs.”
Jamie shrugged and looked out the window.
“What in blazes are you thinking, then, Jamie?” Robbie demanded.
“I donna rightly know.” It was the honest truth. “But I’ve a lot to think about,” he said, and walked out of the throne room.
There were times in a man’s life that no counsel, no friend, no one could answer the questions that were burning in his head. No one but him.
He’d go to his hothouse. He did his best thinking there, when his hands were buried in rich Scottish earth. He made his way there, looking neither right nor left, not wanting to speak with anyone or hear any complaints about this or that. He wanted only to think about what he would do about the Brodies’ offer to settle the betrothal. What he would do with his bloody life.
But when he turned toward the mews he saw Peader walking toward him, his head down as if he were searching for something.
Then Daria appeared, the dogs trailing behind her. Her face was bright, her cheeks rosy, the signs of exercise on a brilliantly bright day. She went up to the boy and touched his hand. The boy opened his palm, and Daria put something in it. They both bent over it, not noticing Jamie’s approach until he cast a shadow on them.
Daria looked up, and her beguiling eyes lit when she saw him. “As I live and breathe, Laird Campbell has come to enjoy a glorious spring day,” she said cheerfully.
He could feel a smile warming his face. “Miss Babcock. How do you fare this morning?”
“Quite well,” she said, and touched the boy’s arm. “Peter and I have had a walkabout.” She looked at the boy and pointed to his hand.
The boy instantly held out his hand to Jamie. In the center of his palm was a piece of agate, polished to a high blue sheen. Agate was plentiful at Dundavie; Jamie’s father had crafted his mother a necklace of such stones when Jamie was a boy.
“Quite bonny.”
Peader beamed at him.
Daria bent down to the boy, smiling at him. She folded his fingers over the stone, patted them, and then touched his pocket. The boy put his stone away. Daria nodded, then wiggled her fingers at him, and Peader took his leave, running a bit, then hopping on one leg before doing it all again.
“He’s bright,” Daria said as she watched him go. “I think he could learn to communicate rather well if given the proper attention. We’ve been teaching each other.”
Jamie had never considered it, really. The deaf and mute were generally kept from society, and the Campbells were no different.
“He is very fond of your dogs,” she added. “Were I you, I’d put him in charge of their care.”
“Would you? Have you any other advice for me?”
“I do. I think Duffson should be given his freedom. He has far more important matters on his mind than my wandering about.” She leaned forward, peeking around Jamie. He followed her gaze and saw the younger Duff chatting up a chambermaid.
