Page 45 of The Last Debutante
“Well then, there you are,” Jamie said. “Daria has overruled Bethia and intends to leave just as soon as the debt is repaid. So let us, for once, enjoy our meal in peace.” He sat back, allowing Young John to serve a large helping of venison onto his plate.
Another uncomfortable silence fell over the room; there was nothing but the sound of forks and knives scraping against the china plates. Daria had almost finished the few bites of her meal she could manage to swallow when Robbie, bless him, decided to return the favor of polite conversation and took the initiative to speak to her.
“Where in England do you hail from, Miss Babcock?” he asked congenially, ignoring a withering look from his wife.
“Please, sir, you must call me Daria,” she said, grateful for the question. “I call Hadley Green home. It is a small village in West Sussex.”
“Ah,” he said. “And what is your father’s occupation, then?”
Her father really had no occupation, but Daria did not think that information would endear her to the Campbells, as they all seemed unduly industrious. “Botanist.” It was the first word that came to mind. “He has been working with my mother to create a new orchid.”
“Botanist!” Robbie said, suddenly smiling brightly. “Did you hear her, Jamie, a botanist! Aye, miss, the laird fancies himself a botanist,” he said to Daria. “He’s been trying for an age to improve the yield of our grains. We’ve no’ much room to plant them here.”
“You’re a botanist?” Suddenly the small shed with the plants made sense, and she was absurdly pleased to find something she had in common with him.
The laird, however, seemed a little embarrassed by the revelation and kept his gaze on his plate. “I dabble, aye.”
“Dabble!” Robbie laughed. “It takes up every spare moment, it does.”
Jamie glanced coolly at his cousin. “It is a hobby, Rob. Hamish? How do you find the venison?” he asked, changing the subject.
“With a keen sense of smell,” Hamish said with a wink, and touched his finger to his nose before handing his spoon to Young John Campbell. Young John quietly returned the spoon to the table beside Hamish’s plate.
“Perhaps I could help,” Daria offered, in spite of having no idea how she could possibly do so. “I know a thing or two, given my parents’ interest.” That wasn’t even remotely true, but at least it was a start. And it would give her something useful to do.
“You’ve better things to do than graft grains,” Jamie said dismissively, and signaled to Young John to pour more wine.
“What things?” Daria challenged him. “As I’ve told you, I am entirely without occupation here.”
“And as I’ve told you, your talents would be better used at embroidery.”
Daria had done her very best to be a good captive. The leasthemight do was meet her halfway. She put down her fork. “Do you truly believe that women sit about and embroider all day?”
“Aye, he does,” Aileen muttered bitterly. “All the men do.”
Daria had no doubt Aileen was right. “For the love of England, at least allow me to be useful,” she said to Jamie.
He settled back in his chair, his gaze assessing. “For the love of Scotland, I canna help you, lass. I have no children for you to rear, nor a house that needs looking after. You will have to make do.” He smiled and lifted his wineglass to her in a mock toast. “But tonight, you may have your occupation and play for us.”
“Aye, Laurna, let us hear a wee bit of music,” Hamish said.
“Laurna has been gone nigh on two years, Uncle. But our guest has kindly agreed to play.”
“I did. However, that does not mean that I have given up on botany, sir; no indeed.” She gave him a pert look before she politely dabbed her lips with her napkin and laid it beside her plate. “If you desire to be entertained, then I shall entertain you.” She made a show of stretching her fingers. “If you will excuse me, I shall go off and prepare.”
Jamie smiled and nodded at Young John, who hurried to pull Daria’s chair out for her. She marched out of the room, resisting the urge to mutter unkind things under her breath.
She didn’t see Robbie’s bright smile or hear him say, “I should like to hear a wee bit of song.”
Nor did she see Geordie scribble on his slate,Jig.
“Well then,” Jamie said as he rose from the table. “Shall we retire to the small parlor?”
He didn’t have to ask twice.
Fourteen
DARIA, WITH HERflowing, sparkling gown and dark golden hair, was already seated by the time Jamie had hobbled into the parlor on his damned leg, his family in tow.
