Page 43 of The Texan Duke
“He’s selling the house,” she said. “The new duke. He’s selling Bealadair.”
She truly wished she hadn’t been the source of that quick look of fear on the older woman’s face. But if she didn’t tell the housekeeper she would be doing the woman a disservice.
Bad news delayed didn’t mean bad news erased.
“Oh, dear, is he really?”
She nodded.
“Are you certain?”
Elsbeth nodded again. “Yes. It’s definite.”
Mrs. Ferguson, probably more than anyone, needed to make arrangements for her future. Gavin had made very generous bequests to the servants and hadn’t forgotten the housekeeper. Thanks to him, Mrs. Ferguson had enough funds to care for herself for the rest of her life. She had a widowed sister who lived near Glasgow. She’d often spoken of how they had planned to live together in their older years.
The housekeeper nodded several times as Elsbeth told her about the tour of the house and the duke’s revelations.
“Well, it’s what we feared, isn’t it? At least we no longer need to worry.”
That was true enough.
“The rest of the family won’t feel that sanguine about it,” Elsbeth said.
“No, they won’t, will they?”
They exchanged a glance. The next few weeks were bound to be tumultuous ones.
She really should tamp out that fluttering feeling at the thought of seeing Connor tomorrow. He would be returning to America soon, but not before disrupting all their lives, hers included.
A good reason not to be fascinated with the man.
Chapter 14
Elsbeth knew the exact minute Mr. Glassey had a conversation with the duchess the next morning. She knew, because she could hear Rhona shouting her name.
Despite Rhona’s penchant for propriety, she was not above raising her voice to make a point.
Before she could reach the duchess’s sitting room, Elsbeth heard her name again. More than one maid sent her a commiserating glance as she moved from the kitchen, through the hall, and up the grand staircase.
She would not take the servants’ stairs. Refusing to do so now was a small, secret act of rebellion.
The duchess was not in her sitting room as she expected.
The third time she heard her name being called, Elsbeth sighed, turned, and walked to the end of the corridor.
One of the previous dukes had a bit of whimsy about him. He’d taken perfectly ordinary rooms and made them odd. The Ship Room was one of those. The first time she’d entered, she immediately had the impression of angles and walls jutting toward her. Only after a moment had she realized that by taking a series of small steps to the right, then turning to the left, she would enter what looked like the bow of a ship. From there, she could look down on the rest of the room. The windows mounted high in the wall became the horizon. Perhaps you could imagine yourself the captain of this imaginary ship.
When she’d asked Gavin if he and Graham had played there, his smile had been so sad that she wished she hadn’t been curious.
“Yes,” he’d said. “We loved that room. We were pirates or buccaneers. Graham was always besting me with a sword.”
“A sword?”
“We borrowed them from the old wing,” he said, his chuckle banishing the sadness for a bit. “Our mother was furious with us, of course, but we didn’t stop. We loved that place. And the Bubble Room.”
She opened the door to the Bubble Room, so called because of the odd window glass that took up most of the far wall. The glass bulged outward, making it feel as if you were in the middle of a bubble. The view of the eastern section of Bealadair was slightly blurred around the edges, but in the center it was spectacular, especially on this bright morning with the sun glinting on the snow.
The room was filled with greenery and lush growing things, smelling of spring. The fireplace was small and to the left, barely warming the room. The duchess had compensated for the chill by wearing a thick-wool half jacket over her black dress.
