Page 23 of To Wed an Heiress
“And then there is Flora,” Elizabeth said. “She’s your cousin and Douglas’s granddaughter.”
They didn’t have any more time to speak because they’d reached the dining room.
The Pink Dining Room, so called because of the color of the walls, was surprisingly restrained in decor given the remainder of Macrory House. The small room was furnished with a large square table with wooden chairs and upholstered seat covers.
True, there were carved cornices representing a variety of fruits and vegetables and sideboards constructed of the same wood as the table. But the lamps weren’t overly large. Nor were there any cavorting imps and goddesses on the ceiling.
Her grandmother, great-uncle, and cousin were already seated, all of them looking fixedly at her. She didn’t blame them for staring. She hadn’t been able to improve her appearance in the past few hours.
A male servant helped her to her chair in the middle of the table, opposite her cousin and next to Elizabeth. She thanked him, which was no doubt the wrong thing to do, earning her a frown from her grandmother.
Ailsa was sitting at the foot of the table while Uncle Douglas was at the head.
Her great-uncle was tall and portly with a mane of white hair that stuck out in different directions on the top of his large head. Mercy got the impression of a Scottish lion with a roar of a voice, one that boomed out at her as she sat.
“Welcome to Macrory House, lass. It’s happy I am that you’re here. We’ve more Americans here now than Scots.” He extended a large hand toward the woman opposite Mercy. “This is my granddaughter, Flora.”
Flora looked to be a few years younger than her with an appearance unlike the rest of the women in the family. Her eyes were blue, her hair a shade of dark red Mercy had rarely seen. She was exceedingly pretty, one of those females who looked lovely despite the circumstances. She would appear as presentable first thing in the morning as she would drenched in a downpour, crying or laughing, and sick or well.
No doubt she would wear a turban of bandages with aplomb and look gorgeous while doing so.
Mercy instantly felt ugly and clumsy.
“That Caitheart fool caused the accident, I hear,” Uncle Douglas said. “Him and that infernal machine of his. Damn idiot. Hasn’t got a bairn’s sense. Always said that he would come to no good.”
She had the curious compulsion to refute her great-uncle’s words, although she was certain that Lennox would not welcome her defense. Still, he wasn’t quite an idiot. Nor was he insane as she’d called him. If anything, he was brave. She wouldn’t have the courage to jump from a mountain like he had in an airship.
“I think what he’s doing is quite exciting, myself,” Flora said.
Mercy witnessed the most amazing transformation, something she’d only seen in one other person. Her great-uncle’s face changed when he looked at his granddaughter. It was like everything inside of him softened, smoothed the lines of his face, and prompted his smile.
Her father looked the same way when he was with Jimmy. In his case, however, she thought it was more sadness than love that prompted the change.
“You be sure to mind yourself, lassie,” Douglas said to Flora. “You’ll not go near that place and you’ll stay off the road. I’ll not let another Caitheart harm a Macrory woman again.”
At least she’d learned about the reason for the feud at Duddingston Castle. She doubted if her relatives would have told her otherwise.
She decided she would focus on her dinner because she was genuinely hungry. Better that then say something that would be taken wrong. Besides, it would be a good way to avoid her grandmother’s eagle-like stare.
At least she hadn’t been banished from the table and the house. She had a feeling, however, that she hadn’t found a haven at Macrory House.
Chapter Eleven
“If you don’t come and eat your dinner now, I’ll give it to the pigs.”
“We don’t have pigs,” Lennox said, glancing up at Irene.
Connor and Irene were the only servants at Duddingston Castle, if that label was entirely fitting. Irene had taken over the position of housekeeper, cook, maid of all work, busybody, and his mother.
She’d been in the village this morning or she would have inserted herself into the drama as usual.
He returned to his examination of the tail structure of his airship. It had been damaged in his controlled crash this morning. Before he went up again, he was going to have to repair it as well as the damaged sail.
“I mean it. I haven’t stood over a hot stove for hours for you to ignore what I cooked.”
“How could I possibly ignore it?” Lennox said. “I’ve been smelling onions all afternoon.”
Irene put her fists on her hips and sent him a familiar glare, but she didn’t look like she was going to move anytime soon. Most of the time their confrontations ended in a draw. Evidently, Irene was all for winning tonight.
