Page 124 of The Scottish Duke
“A wise decision. Perhaps you’ll be able to take a wife shortly,” she added with a smile.
She hadn’t missed the relationship that had grown between Nan and Peter, although neither of them spoke of it.
“Do go and tell Nan,” she said.
His smile was sudden and shy, making her want to hug him.
“Is she feeling better, Your Grace?”
“She is. She’s able to sit up and eat something and is already planning her escape. I know she’d be pleased to see you.”
He nodded again, causing that one lock of hair to acquire a life of its own. She watched as he left the sitting room and walked a short distance across the hall, where he placed the salver on a table. He stood in front of the room Nan was currently occupying and slicked his hair back with one hand before examining his jacket, trousers, and shoes.
Smiling, Lorna closed the door and opened the letter.
Once she read the contents, she moved to one of the wing chairs in front of the hearth, sat down and stared for a moment at the cold fireplace. Evidently, Peter had not been the only one to benefit from Alex’s interest.
Your Grace, the letter began,we would be excited to publish your late father’s definitive work on Scottish herbs and flowering medicinal plants.There was more, about dates and times that might be convenient to discuss further plans, compliments about her drawings, and praise for her father’s knowledge.
Her heart felt as if it had expanded to fill all the empty spaces since her father’s death.
She hadn’t missed his book. When had Alex taken it to a publisher? When he’d been in Edinburgh? He hadn’t said anything, but then he wouldn’t, would he? Alex did things without fanfare or the need for recognition. He simply moved mountains or made cottages available or banished troublesome relatives.
She pressed the letter against her bodice with both hands and bowed her head.
Please, don’t let it be just something I want to see. Please let him love me, too.
The Reverend George McGill would say that she had no right to pray, that God would be sickened by her implorations, sinner that she was. But while the Reverend George McGill might be sanctioned by the Church of Scotland, the man did not have a charitable thought in his mind. Even officiating at her wedding hadn’t softened his heart.
She glanced over at the door as it opened, glancing away when Alex entered the room. She was on the verge of tears and that was hardly the reaction he deserved.
“Lorna? Is everything all right?”
She nodded wordlessly, trying to compose herself. When he crossed the room to her side, she handed the letter to him.
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for this.”
He lifted his eyes from the letter and smiled, revealing both dimples.
“It’s a beautiful book, Lorna, and deserves to be published.”
“It wouldn’t be but for your involvement.”
“I don’t believe that,” he said, taking the adjacent chair. “I think it would have eventually found a home.”
“Not as quickly without the support of the Duke of Kinross,” she said. “Thank you, Alex, it was a wonderful gesture.”
He placed the letter on the table, reached out, and took her hand.
“I find that I want to do a great many things for you, Lorna. I think we should have an apothecary here at Blackhall. You could keep your herbs there and make up your potions.”
“Neither potions nor cures,” she said with a smile. “Just aids in healing. That’s all.”
“Then aids in healing,” he said, studying her hand.
“You would do that?”
He nodded. “And anything else you’d want.” He examined her fingers with great intensity. “I’m not used to being uncertain,” he said, surprising her. “And I am around you. It’s disconcerting.”
