Page 29 of My Highland Rogue
Gordon wasn’t fool enough to think that the improvement would be permanent. Nor did he believe that it had much to do with his appearance. If anything, it was probably that Sean had been given a distraction to take his mind off his condition.
“We could play cards today, if you’ve a mind to.”
Sean tilted his head a little and studied him. “It’s cards that got you in trouble with McBain as I recall.”
“I didn’t take anyone’s money, Da. They gambled and lost. I won.”
“McBain always said you cheated. Is that true?”
“Never. Not once. I had no need to cheat. I was just better than they were.”
He returned his father’s look, then said, “Besides, that’s not what got me into trouble with McBain. You and I both know it. It was Jennifer.”
Sean nodded. “But you don’t still have that foolishness in you.”
He wasn’t going to discuss Jennifer with his father.
“I’m going to return to the Hall and have my own breakfast. I’ll come back afterward.”
“Do as you wish.”
He nodded, wondering what had soured Sean’s disposition in a matter of moments. Or maybe it was his fault, seeing an earlier warmth that hadn’t really been there.
Ellen thanked God all the way out of London that she was not Harrison Adaire’s godmother. Thankfully, Mary had chosen another one of herclose friends for that dubious honor. Ellen spared a thought for the poor dear woman, now dead.
Mary had been an exemplary mother to both her children. Although the last part of her life had not been easy, Ellen couldn’t be grateful for her friend’s death. There were too many times that she’d said to herself, “Oh, I must tell Mary this.”Or:“I must write Mary about this immediately.”Only to be brought up short as she remembered that Mary was no longer alive.
They’d been sisters, of a sort. They’d embarked on their season together. Ellen’s father had been wealthy enough to give his daughter a certain cachet. The same had been true for Mary’s family. Neither one of them were at the height of the matrimonial market that year. They were neither heiresses nor raving beauties. Mary had gone on to fall in love with an earl and become a countess, while Ellen had a less positive outcome to her failed social season.
Her parents had become involved with the Church of Scotland to a fanatical degree in their later years. What had been normal they now considered sinful. Therefore, she was withdrawn from any further social events, her wardrobe changed for anything dark brown and dull looking, and her friends told her that she could no longer associate with them. Within a month or two she was a pariah to everyone. Of course, she’d rebelled, but only secretly.
Mary had stood firm against her parents. By that time, she was a countess with some influence. She’d possessed the type of loyalty that’s spoken about in war dispatches. For that reason,Ellen couldn’t turn her back on Harrison now, no matter how irritating, annoying, and bothersome the man was being.
Ellen had sent Abigail directly home from London because her maid never enjoyed the visits to Adaire Hall. It was simply easier to send her back to Edinburgh by train to pout by herself.
As for Harrison, she recognized a fellow traveler on the road to self-destruction. She’d traveled that thoroughfare herself, resulting in disastrous consequences. Mary had saved her there, too.
For most of the journey Harrison had sat slumped in the corner of the carriage, his hat pulled low over his face. For all she knew he was leveling disgusted looks in her direction. He had already told her exactly what he felt.
“I don’t know what you did, Ellen, but I would appreciate it if you would refrain from interfering in my life.”
“I wouldn’t have to, if you remembered certain salient facts about that life, Harrison. Namely, that you’re a husband and soon to be a father. Your presence in that role is required.”
“Why? I can’t birth the babe.”
She closed her eyes and prayed for patience, deciding then and there that there was no point trying to engage Harrison in any semblance of adult conversation. Nor in talking to him until he was sober. The man was disagreeable, surly, and was behaving like a twelve-year-old.
Ellen had stayed at the Hall for weeks in order to help Mary when Harrison was only two weeks old. In that terrible time, they hadn’t even known if she would survive. Alex was distractedby his wife’s fight for life, leaving Harrison in the care of a wet nurse.
She hadn’t known anything about infants at the time. All Ellen had done was cuddle the baby after he’d been fed and consulted the doctor who came nearly every day to care for Mary.
She vividly remembered the day that Mary was finally well enough to sit up in her bed. Ellen had taken her child to her, sitting on the edge of the bed and holding Harrison close so that Mary could touch him. The burns on her friend’s face and arms had been terrible, stripping Ellen of her composure. She’d sat there with Harrison in her arms, tears flowing down her face, grateful that Mary couldn’t see her. Alex had had to step out of the room. She’d watched him leave, thinking that women were stronger, sometimes, than men.
Mary had survived, although she never regained most of her sight. The burns had faded somewhat over the years, making her arms and face look almost like dough when it was being kneaded.
Ellen had never told Harrison that she’d cared for him when he was only a few weeks old. Nor had she ever confided in him that his mother was, to her, the bravest and most inspirational person she’d ever known.
Now she glanced at him and wondered why he’d become the antithesis of everything Mary had been. Was it his father’s heritage? Alexander Adaire had always appeared to be a strong man. Perhaps too strong in many instances, but he was dependable, honorable, and decent, to both his family and those who relied on him. Whenhe died after being thrown from a horse, Harrison was only five. Hardly old enough to assume the mantle of responsibility becoming the Earl of Burfield had thrust on him.
