Page 1 of To Bed the Bride
Chapter One
September, 1868
Hearthmere, Scotland
“I won’t leave if you don’t want me to. If you’re afraid to stay here by yourself I can postpone my visit.”
Eleanor Craig looked at her cousin, trying to tell if he was serious. Jeremy had never offered to do something unselfish.
“I’m not afraid, Jeremy. Besides, there are twenty-five people here. I couldn’t be alone if I wanted to.”
“Yes, but they’re servants.”
She bit back a comment. Her cousin had never seen servants as people. It wasn’t his fault. The attitude was one her aunt had espoused and verbalized often.
They aren’t our kind.How many times had she heard that comment?
“They’re employees who work at Hearthmere,” Eleanor said, trying not to sound irritated. “They were loyal to my father and yours.”
“Why shouldn’t they be? They get away with too much. No one’s here to tell them what to do.”
“Mrs. Willett does an admirable job.”
“Mrs. Willett is just a housekeeper.”
Jeremy hadn’t wanted to accompany her to Scotland, a fact that was evident only hours after their arrival. When he’d announced that he was thinking of visiting Edinburgh, she’d been overjoyed. At least this way she wouldn’t have to hear him endlessly complaining about one thing or another.
“You really should go,” she said. “See your friends. How long will you be staying?”
“A week, maybe two.”
Two weeks without Jeremy would be a blessing.
Hearthmere was a jewel of a house, but it was not equipped with all the creature comforts her cousin preferred.
“Go. I insist,” she said.
“Mother wouldn’t be pleased if I left you here. Alone.”
His look was speculative, almost as if he was trying to decide if she would immediately write her aunt and inform her that he’d abandoned his prescribed role of protector to hie off to the city.
Eleanor smiled. “I’m not alone, Jeremy. I’d feel much better if I knew you were having as much fun as I was. I won’t say anything to Aunt Deborah.”
He shook his head. “How you can abide this moldering pile of bricks, I don’t know.”
Once again she bit back her comment. Hearthmere had been the Craig family home for four hundred years or more. As a Craig, Jeremy should understand that, despite the fact that he tried to pretend he wasn’t half Scot.
Granted, there were places needing repair, but the house was filled with history. You couldn’t walk into the Clan Hall, for example, without feeling the spirits of long-dead Craigs surrounding you. The gardens were laid out on plans that had been prepared hundreds of years earlier. The curtain wall, part of the original castle, had been built as protection from enemy clans and the English and now served to shield the courtyard from the worst of the westerly winds.
Her annual visit to Scotland was something she looked forward to all year. She came home not only to check on the house and the staff, but to refresh herself in a way. She dreamed of living here again just as she had before her aunt had upended the family and moved them to London.
“It will be our little secret,” Eleanor said. “No one else needs to know.”
“You’re certain?” Jeremy asked, already turning to leave the parlor.
She nodded. “You mustn’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
With any luck she hadn’t revealed her relief to him. Jeremy was like his mother in temperament, always finding fault with arrangements or people. The two of them seemed to enjoy complaining, never understanding how tiring it could be to hear.
