Page 39 of The Texan Duke
That was a development Connor hadn’t anticipated. He couldn’t help but wonder what his mother would have thought about Rhona. He had a feeling she would have had no time for Rhona, but would probably like Elsbeth.
The thought of seeing Elsbeth again propelled him out of his chair to prepare for dinner.
Chapter 13
Elsbeth was late for dinner, but it couldn’t be helped. There had been a near disaster in the laundry, and she’d assisted the head laundress in repairing the lace on the duchess’s favorite blouse.
Normally, her maid would have overseen Rhona’s wardrobe, but Adelaide had been suffering from a vile cold in the past week. Rhona disliked illness of any sort and had banished the woman to her room on the third floor until she was well. At least Adelaide was able to rest and the family was spared Her Grace’s complaints about servants who were inconsiderate enough to be sick around her.
Thankfully, Mr. Barton had recovered from his gout and was able to carry on his duties.
Unfortunately, however, Adelaide’s temporary replacement was a girl who had no training as a lady’s maid. Consequently, Elsbeth was called in almost daily to soothe the girl’s fears and tears.
While the family dining room was small, almost intimate, the same could not be said for the Black Dining Room, named for its most distinctive feature: a black-and-gold silk wall covering that made the room feel like a black box to Elsbeth.
It was, indeed, a striking chamber, but one so overpowering that she always took a deep breath before entering. Giant gold emblems she suspected were of French design were stamped on the black silk every few feet or so. The floor-to-ceiling curtains were also black, blending in so well that you didn’t even see the windows at the far end of the rectangular room.
Bealadair’s public rooms were oversized, almost as if they had been designed for the entire clan and this room was no exception. The dining room was probably twice the size it needed to be and sufficiently far away from the kitchen that the servants nearly had to race through the corridors in order to deliver the food before it got cold.
A dark mahogany-and-brass inlaid neoclassical table stretched the length of the room and was surrounded by twenty-four thickly padded chairs upholstered in black and gold. The three brass chandeliers were lit but couldn’t offset the effect of all that black. The light seemed to be swallowed up and to disappear.
Tonight, in honor of the duke’s first official dinner at Bealadair, the duchess had requested a number of dishes that were not normally served. At least a dozen brass chafing dishes sat on one of the sideboards, the smells emerging from them making her stomach growl. Curry, that was one of the odors. Venison as well.
The rest of the family was already seated, and her late arrival earned her a frown from the duchess and a smile from Connor. He was seated in the position of honor, Gavin’s place at the head of the table.
How odd to see someone there when it had been kept vacant for months. Felix had sat there once, but the glance the duchess had given him had been enough to singe his ears. He’d never made that mistake again.
Elsbeth slid into her usual place, a chair near the end of the table. When the footman came to stand at her left, she nodded and he ladled soup into the bowl on her plate.
Connor had stopped eating his soup before half of it was done. Didn’t he like the chowder Addy had made?
The footman gathered up his bowl, and Connor thanked him, something he wasn’t supposed to do. How many lectures had she endured from Rhona? The servants were never to be thanked. One didn’t notice the servants.
Nor did he seem very impressed with the sweetbreads and she couldn’t blame him. But he had smiled when haggis was served, adding a comment that his father had told him about it. At least he’d eaten some of that.
That was the last thing he’d said. He’d been content to remain silent for most of the meal, only answering questions in monosyllables. She just wished Felix, who had a penchant for talking about himself, would emulate Connor’s behavior.
What a pity Felix had no friends at Bealadair. The only person he was remotely polite to was his wife. Lara looked at Felix as if he were the most wonderful man on earth, not noticing that few people could tolerate her husband.
Did the duchess know that Elsbeth had given Connor an abbreviated tour of the house? A quick shake of Muira’s head indicated that the subject hadn’t been addressed.
As if the duchess had heard her thoughts, Rhona smiled brightly at Connor and said, “What did you think of Bealadair?”
“I’ve seen the elephant.”
The duchess looked slightly taken aback. Elsbeth wondered if it was because of Connor’s comment or the fact that he hadn’t appended aYour Graceto his answer. Rhona was a stickler for formality.
She wouldn’t have been at all surprised if Connor called the duchessAunt. She could just imagine what would happen, then. Rhona would draw herself up, her face stiff, and address Connor with ice in her voice.
No one had a frozen tone like the Duchess of Lothian.
“What a pity the weather is so bad,” Rhona said, her equanimity evidently restored again. “We could have shown you just a portion of the acreage that belongs to Bealadair.”
“Two hundred eighty thousand acres, to be precise,” Felix said, sounding as officious as if he, himself, had made a gift of the land to Connor.
“Our family is one of the largest landholders in Scotland,” Lara said, her tone mimicking her husband’s. As if it was their bequest to Connor.
“It’s not a bad size,” he said.
