Page 6 of The Seaside Homecoming
He blinked. Looked sincerely stricken. “Don’t, miss. Please. Just a little jest. Won’t happen again.”
“Perhaps I will keep quiet if you agree to leave Mary alone. What has she ever done to deserve such behavior?”
For a moment that snakelike gleam returned to his eyes. “Oh, ye’d be surprised.”
“And sickened, no doubt.”
“Now, now. Not my fault. She’s no better than she should be.”
Was there any truth to his claim? If so, Claire was in no position to judge another woman’s indiscretions.
She lifted her chin. “Either way, she is far better than you are. Watch your step, for I shall be watching you.”
A few days later, another caller came to the front door. Claire was in her room reading when the knocker sounded below. She stood and looked out the window, glimpsing a man’s black hat and billowing greatcoat, but that was all. She wondered if this one would be sent away too.
Claire returned to her reading.
Aunt Mercer had said she would not need Claire that afternoon, so Claire was enjoying the rare luxury of reading a book of her own choosing. Aunt Mercer did not possess—or allow—many novels, but rereadingThe Pilgrim’s Progresswas proving more pleasant than being forced to read aloud yet again from Fordyce’sSermons to Young Women.
Some time later the housemaid tapped and came in with fresh towels. “Here you are, miss.”
“Thank you, Mary. My aunt has a caller?”
“Aye. Some gent’s been with her for nearly an hour now.”
“One of her doctors?”
“Don’t know. Dinna hear his name.”
The housemaid turned to go, but Claire asked, “Mary, has Fergus been bothering you?”
The girl tilted her mobcapped head as she considered. “Now ye mention it, he’s left me alone for a few days, God be praised.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
The maid departed to continue her duties.
A short while later, another knock rattled her door.
Expecting Mary again, she called, “Come.”
Instead, when the door opened, Campbell stood there looking awkward.
“A gentleman to see you, miss, in the drawing room.”
A gentleman?She instantly thought of the fair-haired Scotsman who had been turned away. Had he come back? Brought news of her family? Why would her aunt allow her to receive a male caller now, when she had refused before?
Claire rose. “Give me a few minutes, please.”
The butler nodded and retreated.
Claire tidied her hair and arranged a white linen tucker at her neck, adding needed adornment to the plain grey day dress.
Then she went down to the drawing room, nerves thrumming through her.
She crossed the threshold and drew up short, heart banging against her ribs at the sight of the handsome, elegantly dressed man awaiting her.
Lord Bertram. Here? Now?
