Page 80 of The Scottish Duke
He’d never thought his life to be lacking. He had work he enjoyed and that gave him purpose. He had a family he loved. He had responsibilities and acquaintances. He’d been happy. At least he thought he had. Until a few weeks ago he would have ridiculed anyone who said otherwise.
“I’m going to Inverness,” he said, standing. “I have to submit my treatise.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“A few weeks, perhaps longer.”
He’d half expected her to argue that now was not the time to leave Blackhall, that he had a new wife and a new child who needed his presence. All she did was sit and look up at him, her eyes soft and kind and seeing too much.
He stood and left her before he could offer any excuses for his behavior.
What the hell could he say? That his wife terrified him? That his reaction to Lorna was uncontrolled and wholly unlike him?
All true and nothing that he could possibly explain.
Chapter 21
For the first time in her life Lorna used the bellpull to summon one of the staff. As she waited, she changed Robbie, then carried him into the dressing room, where she put him on the cot his father had slept on the night before. He fussed for a few minutes before settling down into sleep with his fist in his mouth.
She made quick work of using the facilities in the bathing chamber, then washed her face and hands before picking Robbie up again and cradling him in her arms.
Matthews was nowhere to be found. He must have slipped out the door located on the other side of the bathing chamber. Hopefully, the next time they met his demeanor would be more polite. If he wasn’t, she’d have to deal with him somehow. How she handled Matthews might well form the basis of her relationship with the rest of the staff.
With one hand, she grabbed a few of Robbie’s sacques and nappies from the dresser and made her way back to the bedroom.
She knew this room well from having dusted it every day. Every week she and another girl rolled the mattress from the top to the bottom of the bed, then turned it sideways twice to make sure the goose down was properly distributed.
She’d gotten on her hands and knees and brushed the dark blue carpet with its pattern of white crest and thistles with a boar bristle brush. She’d stood on a ladder to clean the two chandeliers. She knew every nook and cranny, every deep blue and gold curlicue of the valances, every fold of the blue bed curtains.
Now it was her room and the realization terrified her.
A knock made her leave the bed and go to the sitting room door, opening it to find Abby standing there, hand raised to knock again.
Abby was one of the older maids who had been at Blackhall for a decade or more. She was quick to share what she knew about any task and her round face almost always bore a smile. She came from a tiny village not far from Inverness and she was forever telling tales of the inhabitants of the village, to the point that Lorna felt as if she knew those people she’d never met.
She couldn’t help but wonder if Abby would tell stories about the people of Blackhall.
Abby’s eyes widened at the sight of her. She took a few steps back, her gaze traveling from Lorna to sweep the room behind her, coming to rest on the baby in her arms.
“You’ve had the child, then?”
Lorna nodded. “Robbie,” she said, glancing down at her son. “And I’ve married.”
Evidently, the footmen hadn’t told anyone of carrying her inside Blackhall. Nor had Peter or Nan said anything to anyone. Nor had Matthews had enough time to carry his stories the length and breadth of the castle.
“I’ve married the duke,” Lorna added.
Abby’s eyes widened even farther but she didn’t respond.
Was that how it was going to be, then? She’d be faced with a silent staff? She would be just like Alex walking through Blackhall, averting her eyes for fearing of seeing something on the faces of the servants?
No, that wouldn’t do.
What did she say to put Abby at ease? She didn’t know. How had the duchess always made her feel comfortable? She asked about personal things, that was how. She remembered details about her life, things she’d told her on previous encounters.
“How is your tooth?” she asked.
Both Abby’s eyebrows winged upward, but she answered nonetheless. “Better. Mrs.McDermott said I should put some oil of cloves on it and it helped a little.”
