Page 73 of The Scottish Duke
In the last hours, he’d been too terrified to draw a deep breath. When he first heard his son’s newborn cry, it wasn’t for him that he was concerned. His first question had been about Lorna.
His wife.
He would have to arrange for her transport to the castle. Tomorrow, perhaps. Or should they wait a week or so? He didn’t know, but it was somehow important that she take her rightful place at Blackhall.
She hadn’t seemed all that pleased during the ceremony. Of course, she’d been in labor at the time. Was she unhappy that he was her husband? Surely other unions were built on flimsier ground.
He had a wife.
Of course she was his wife. It had almost been destined the moment he’d taken her from the Wittan Village square and brought her to this cottage. The moment he’d kissed her in the rain. The moment he’d seen her standing there with her towering white wig and gold mask.
They were destined to be together, a thought as sharp as a blow to his chest.
The strange convoy he’d arranged made it by degrees to Blackhall. The first carriage held Lorna, the baby, and his mother. The second held Peter, all of Lorna’s belongings except for her herbs, and Nan.
Alex sat beside Lorna, watchful for anything that could cause her discomfort. His mother was giving him what he considered her “Russell look,” something she’d borrowed from his father. Comprised of a frown, watchful stare, and thinned lips, it as much as shouted:I’m disappointed in you. You have not lived up to the expectations I had.
Other than insisting on transporting Lorna to Blackhall, he hadn’t done anything but accede to her wishes. How was he to know that he’d violated all the tenets of new motherhood?
“She isn’t supposed to move for two weeks, Alex. Nor get out of bed. You try giving birth and you’ll understand.”
Lorna didn’t appear worse for the disruption. In fact, her eyes were sparkling when she did glance at him. Most of her attention was devoted to Robbie, and the ease with which she handled the baby amazed him.
They weren’t going to take the formal entrance. Instead, they would enter the back way, normally used by tradesmen. He didn’t want Lorna subjected to the intense scrutiny of the curious staff. Nor was she dressed for her first appearance as a duchess. In fact, she wasn’t dressed at all. His mother had brought one of her French nightgowns, laboriously embroidered by some nuns in a convent in France. He’d wrapped his greatcoat around her to keep her warm. The thick white cotton was too virginal for his taste, especially since his wife didn’t appear the least virginal with her hair around her shoulders, her pink cheeks, and the pink mouth that reminded him too much of her kisses.
He’d been intoxicated by Lorna’s kisses.
His wife.He should repeat the words a few hundred times and maybe he wouldn’t be feeling so... not out of sorts as much as confused. No, confused wasn’t the right word, either. He was befuddled, perhaps. Bemused. Beneath it all, whether befuddlement or bemusement, he was strangely happy. He hadn’t expected to be happy at this moment. Nor had he anticipated feeling this odd buoyancy accompanied by an unfamiliar peace.
Was it being a new father? Or was it being Lorna’s husband?
She glanced at him again as if hearing his thoughts. Her smile lit up something inside him. He liked her. An odd realization to have at this moment. He admired her, and he didn’t think he’d ever used that word about another woman.
He’d spent hours thinking about her, trying to understand the former maid with her artistic talent and her determination.
When his father died, along with Moira and Donald, it had been a dark and terrible time. But he’d had his mother to give him emotional sustenance and never had to worry about his next meal. Lorna had, but she hadn’t appealed to the parish poorhouse. Nor did she live off the charity of others. Instead, she’d come to Blackhall and worked as a maid.
He’d visited Mrs.McDermott last week and asked her a question that had concerned him for a long time.
“Why did you employ her, when she had no references or experiences?”
When she hesitated, he moved to assure her that he wasn’t criticizing her decision.
“It’s my curiosity,” he said, trying to explain. “You maintain an admirable staff, Mrs.McDermott. In fact, I’d say that no one could do a better job at Blackhall.”
Once she was appeased, she told him what he wanted to know.
“I felt sorry for her, Your Grace. She was so brave, but it was evident that getting the job was important to her. Even a matter of life or death. Poor lass, it was obvious she hadn’t eaten well for some time. But she had a way about her, you know?”
Yes, he knew.
He wondered what Mrs.McDermott would think to learn that he’d married the young maid, the courageous lass with the sparkling brown eyes and the enchanting smile. She certainly hadn’t approved of him moving Lorna into the cottage.
When they arrived at the castle, he sent Peter to fetch three other young men along with a chair. All four men could be trusted to keep their counsel and not talk about this ignominious arrival.
In the interim, he assisted his mother and then Lorna from the carriage, carefully transferring his well-bundled son from his mother’s arms to his grandmother’s.
“You might not get him back,” he said to Lorna after watching his mother’s face. In her eyes was a joy he hadn’t seen for many years. She cooed to Robbie and he stared up at her, transfixed.
