Page 11 of The Groom Wore Plaid
He remembered Lady Aberfoyle’s unspoken disapproval of Cat’s invitation, a reminder that he would be smoothing the way between his mother and Maggie for a long while yet. Lady Aberfoyle had been shocked and distressed this morning upon hearing that he’d offered to marry a “poverty-stricken McCallum”—her words. He’d explained that Maggie had a dowry, and his mother had countered that it was nothing compared to what an English bride would have brought to the family. He’d asked if she wanted another war withthe McCallums and the loss of even more innocent lives. She’d had nothing to say to that, but he could see now that she still wasn’t going to welcome Maggie into the family with ease. The whole conversation had felt . . . off to him. They didn’t need a large dowry, and to focus on that seemed disingenuous.
After Lady Aberfoyle walked down the center aisle between the tables, nodding to the clansmen who bowed in her direction, she came to a stop when she spied Maggie, as if she’d forgotten her. Owen watched the two women eye each other.
Owen rose. “Mother, allow me to introduce my future wife, Margaret.”
“Maggie McCallum,” Maggie said pointedly, rising to curtsy from behind the table. “Good day, Lady Aberfoyle, Lady Catriona.”
Lady Aberfoyle bowed regally, almost imperceptibly, but said nothing.
Lest his mother think this a temporary situation she could alter, he added, “Please congratulate us. We shall be married four weeks from yesterday.”
Maggie’s eyes narrowed, but she said nothing.
“That is far too soon for an earl to marry!” Lady Aberfoyle said indignantly. “You should be married in Edinburgh, or perhaps London as befits your—”
“We will be married in the chapel here,” Owen interrupted, “in the ancient stronghold of our clan. It will also enable Maggie’s family to easily attend.”
He thought he was proving his concern to Maggie,instead, it made his mother glare at her, as if the marriage was all her fault.
Owen ignored it and turned to include his sister. “Will you ladies be joining us for dinner?”
Cat’s furrowed brow smoothed out as she smiled at Maggie. “We’d love to. I have so many questions about your brother, now married to my favorite cousin.”
Cat removed her bonnet and came around the table to sit beside Maggie, leaving their mother to sit on Owen’s left. As the servants brought trays of meat and vegetables for the ladies to choose from, Owen forced himself to attend to his mother, while listening to Maggie and Cat.
Maggie was surprised at her own hearty appetite after such an awkward introduction. Luckily, Lady Aberfoyle was on Owen’s other side and perhaps she wouldn’t have to speak with her. Maggie had no respect for the countess, who hadn’t protected Riona from the old earl’s manipulations and now sulked that she couldn’t control her son.
Of course, if there was no wedding at all, maybe Lady Aberfoyle would thank her, Maggie thought wryly.
Lady Catriona was far easier to deal with. Maggie was grateful for the woman’s kindness toward Hugh.
“You must call me Cat, and I’ll call you Maggie,” Cat said.
Like her brother’s, her Scottish burr seemed subduedafter she’d spent most of every year in England. Maggie wondered if either of them even spoke Gaelic.
“We’re practically related already,” Cat continued, “with my cousin marrying your brother. And soon we shall be sisters.”
Sisters.That probably wouldn’t happen, not if Maggie could help it. But she made herself smile politely. “Riona has spoken so much about ye, as if ye’re her own sister, too.”
“We practically are. We spent much of our childhood together, and then as adults, we attended the same Society events.” She hesitated, then lowered her voice. “I hope you do not feel awkward around me. I didn’t want to marry your brother—and it wasn’t because he was a McCallum,” she hastened to add. “He was simply . . . a stranger. I’d hoped to choose my own husband, and . . .” Her voice trailed off and she covered her mouth with her hand. Faintly, she said, “Oh, forgive me. That was terribly insensitive. You volunteered to marry a stranger and I’m going on about my luck escaping the same fate.”
“Nay, do not worry. And your brother wasn’t a stranger. Surely he told ye about our encounter ten years ago.” Maggie couldn’t resist taunting Owen, knowing he was listening.
Cat’s gaze searched hers. “No, he never did.”
“That is because it’s none of her concern,” Owen interrupted.
Cat leaned forward, the better to see her brother. “How like a man to think the details don’t matter.”
Maggie’s gaze clashed with Owen’s. She could tell his sister he’d nearly betrayed his first betrothed, but . . . that would be revenge, rather than honest anger. “He simply asked if I liked to look at the stars. We struck up a friendship that only lasted a few weeks before he had to leave.”
“That does not exactly capture the imagination,” Cat teased.
“Which is why it was so forgettable,” Maggie said brightly.
Owen narrowed his eyes
Cat sighed. “But . . . it is only through luck that you knew each other at all before you both agreed to do such a brave thing.”
