Page 90 of To Wed an Heiress
I love you.
No, she wasn’t brave enough to write those things. Besides, she knew he wouldn’t read it. He would forever think that she’d used him.
She turned her head, listening. The faint skirl of the pipes seemed almost like a hallucination at first and then the sound became louder.
Mercy stood, walked to the window that overlooked the view of Ben Uaine. She could hear the pipes better now. Her father had once hired someone to play for her mother’s birthday to honor her Scottish heritage and Mercy had never forgotten the sound.
“They’re not designed to be played indoors,” her mother had said later.
Here, though, was the perfect backdrop. The piper stood on a rise in the glen. Ben Uaine absorbed the sound yet somehow amplified it. The woods filtered the notes and they sailed back to Macrory House.
Glancing down she saw the staff coming out to watch. Not just the staff, but her relatives as well, all of them standing straight and tall, silent and respectful.
The song was one she’d never heard before now. An almost mournful melody, it tugged at her heart. This was a different kind of music, almost savage and deeply personal. The pipes reminded her of Lennox, alone, independent, and prideful.
“It’s the mourning,” Ruthie said, entering the room. “It’s an annual event to mark Mary Macrory’s death. They hire a piper and he plays a lament.”
That meant that it was also the anniversary of Robert’s death.
The sound of the pipes crept inside her heart, helping her make a decision. Perhaps it was unwise and potentially scandalous, but what did it matter now?
She had to go to him.
Chapter Forty-Two
The whole of Macrory House seemed to be involved in entertaining the piper. Or perhaps there was another ceremony marking Mary’s death. Her relatives were in the family parlor along with McNaughton, Mrs. West, and the senior staff—information provided by Ruthie.
The other woman looked as if she regretted saying anything when Mercy explained her plans.
“I have to go and see him,” she told Ruthie. “He shouldn’t be flying his airship as long as he’s injured.”
“They’ve practically banished you as it is, Miss Mercy. Don’t give them any more reason to be upset.”
She turned and faced Ruthie. “You have always been such a wonderful support, Ruthie. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you, but this is something I have to do.”
“Then I should go with you,” she said.
“I’m only going to talk to him. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”
How could she possibly explain herself? She couldn’t, so she left the room before Ruthie said anything else.
No doubt Gregory had been invited into the family parlor with the rest of the family. Ever since he attacked Lennox, he’d been welcomed into the bosom of the family.
She slipped out the kitchen entrance, grateful that the maids in the kitchen were involved in meal preparation.
As she was heading for the walled garden something caught her eye. At first she thought it was the ghillie, the gamekeeper for her great-uncle, because of the shotgun he had slung over his shoulder. In the next instant she realized it was Gregory. She hugged the wall and watched as he kept to the path, glancing over his shoulder from time to time as though he was concerned about being followed.
Why was he acting so furtive?
Although her great-uncle had made a point of telling her about all the game that was raised on his land, she’d never known Gregory to have an interest in hunting. He tended to gravitate to those activities that required a group, but shooting sports had not been among them.
She followed him at some distance, curious. After cutting through the walled garden and reaching the other side, she saw him climbing the knoll the piper had used, descending to the other side, and heading toward Ben Uaine.
What was he doing?
Gregory preferred attending a play to walking in the garden. Even when he came to their country home, he would rather go to a social event than take the sailboat out or explore the nearby woods.
He wasn’t a naturalist. Why, then, was he heading toward the mountain?
