Page 34 of The Texan Duke
“Mr. Glassey said you came here as an orphan.”
“When I was eight,” she said.
“What happened?”
With anyone else she would probably have demurred or changed the subject. She strangely wanted to tell him her story.
“My parents and I were traveling somewhere. I don’t know where and I can’t remember why. Only that I was excited to be on a train again.”
She shook her head, not telling him how many times she had tried to unearth the memory. Or how many times she had buried it on purpose.
“The train was on a bridge and the bridge collapsed. All I can remember after that is darkness and screaming. I felt this sense of separation.” She stared off into the distance. “I’ve never been able to explain that to anybody, but it’s as if I knew that my parents had died, that they’d left me alone.” She shook her head. “The next thing I knew I was on a cot along with hundreds of other people. I was freezing and shaking. I couldn’t stop shaking. Someone kept asking me my name and I kept telling them. I wanted my mother and father, but that’s the one thing they couldn’t give me.”
She took a deep breath. When he remained silent, she kept talking.
“I don’t remember how many days passed, but all of a sudden there were people there, then a man. Everyone seemed very impressed by him. But all I can remember is that he told me he was my father’s friend.”
She could remember that moment like it was yesterday. Gavin had bent down and looked directly in her face.
“‘I know you are hurting, my dear child, and I understand. William was my friend and I will miss him as well.’ He told me that he had agreed that if anything happened to my parents, he would be responsible for me. I don’t remember having any say in the matter, but the next thing I knew, I was here at Bealadair.”
In the past minute, he’d turned and was looking at her. She glanced in his direction and then away.
“I’d gone from not having anyone to having a family and a home.” She glanced at him again. “It’s the same for you. I understand if you feel like you don’t belong. But that’s not true. The family needs you. The clan needs you.”
“I’m not a Scot,” he said. “This isn’t my country. This isn’t my land.”
He looked around him, his gaze finally returning to her.
“You aren’t staying, are you?” she asked.
He didn’t fit here. Nor did he seem to want to. This was his ancestral home, but he rejected it with every step, every breath, every glance.
She knew they were in peril, the three girls she had considered almost sisters and Gavin’s wife. She felt as if she owed it to Gavin, if no one else, to try to protect them. Not for their sake, but for his, because of all the kindnesses he had extended to her.
“As soon as I can sell Bealadair, I’m leaving. Maybe my uncle wouldn’t understand, but my father would. A man needs to create his own destiny, not depend on those who came before him.”
She had a feeling that rugged individualism had probably marked the very first Duke of Lothian. He, too, had carved his destiny, but in Scotland not Texas.
“Thanks for the tour,” he said, standing. “I won’t take up any more of your time. There’s no need.”
She watched as he crossed the floor, the sound of his boots on the stones sounding like heartbeats.
She gripped the material of her skirt, realized what she was doing and released it, smoothing the wrinkles out with her fingers. She forced herself to remain seated until she calmed, until her pulse was once more normal, and she could breathe easily.
The family was not destitute. Gavin had gifted them each with enough funds to live a modest life. But when had the McCraights ever lived modestly?
Money had never been an object at Bealadair. It wasn’t that anyone ever talked about it. Such things were considered crass. Jewelry was commissioned from the finest London firms. Felix had gunsmiths at his beck and call. Anise loved shoes and had standing orders for the newest fashions to be sent to her. Muira loved confections and received monthly orders from Edinburgh.
The only time there was an attempt at economy was once a quarter when the duchess was forced to look over the household expenditures. Those times passed quickly. All too often everyone was back to buying what they wanted.
Now the future was there before them, written out for all of them to see. There would be no more jewelry, shoes, chocolates, or guns. Anise would not have another season and Muira would not have her first. As for the duchess? She would not be able to rule like a queen. And, if Connor was serious about selling Bealadair, Rhona wouldn’t even be able to live at the Dower House.
Connor had brought disaster with him, just as she had feared. Someone needed to tell the duchess, and she fervently prayed it would be Mr. Glassey.
She wasn’t brave enough for that task.
Chapter 12
