Page 65 of My Highland Rogue
“Tolerable,” he said. “Thank you for everything you’ve done, Jennifer. You’ve been exceedingly kind.”
There, he’d managed to thank her in words that sounded polite. Now all he had to do was walk away, before he was tempted to look at her, to touch her, to pretend that Sean hadn’t said what he had.
He’d recently learned that the nursery maid, the one who’d survived the north wing fire, still lived at Adaire Hall. His plan was to visit her tomorrow and receive some corroboration for Sean’s story. After that, he’d leave this cursed place.
Jennifer did the one thing he hoped shewouldn’t. She touched his arm, her hand warm through his jacket. He gently pulled away.
“Is it because Sean died?” she asked. “Is that why you’re acting so odd?”
It was torture being around her. He glanced down at her. Today she was wearing black in honor of Sean, and the color emphasized her creamy complexion and the brilliant green of her eyes.
“Have I done something wrong?”
He focused on the people around them. There was the stable master, dressed in his best suit, standing next to two of the boys who worked in the stables. Beyond him was Ned, the new head gardener who would soon occupy Sean’s cottage. He even saw Harrison, who was holding court in the corner. Perhaps he should congratulate the man for deigning to make an appearance.
“What is it, Gordon? You’re worrying me.”
He finally directed his gaze back to Jennifer. She hadn’t changed. She was still as beautiful as ever.
“Nothing’s wrong. I simply have other things on my mind,” he said, keeping his voice carefully neutral.
“I haven’t seen very much of you recently,” she said.
“We went five years without seeing each other. I’m sure you got into the habit. I know I did.”
One hand went to her throat as she stepped back. Her eyes were wide and, if he was right, she was on the verge of tears.
He’d accused Harrison of being an ass, yet he’d behaved worse. He’d hurt Jennifer.
He turned and left her, striding away from the Clan Hall.
Jennifer watched as Gordon walked away from her. The change in him since Sean died was like sunshine and rain. One day he was passionate and romantic. The next day he was remote, inaccessible, and rude, someone she hardly recognized.
Something was terribly wrong and she didn’t think it had anything to do with Sean’s death. Had he received a letter from London containing bad news? Had Harrison said something to him?
Someone had to act as host for this gathering. Gordon had walked off, and she didn’t think he was returning. Lauren still hadn’t left her bed following Mary’s birth. She wouldn’t bother asking Harrison; he wouldn’t do anything to help Gordon. Therefore, the duty fell to her. She went from person to person, thanking them for their attendance and their kind words about Sean. She gave orders for more whiskey to be brought up due to the volume of toasts given in Sean’s honor.
If anyone thought it odd Gordon wasn’t there, no one said as much to her. Perhaps his actions would be seen as normal, given that he hadn’t returned home in five years to visit his father.
The man she’d known would’ve come to her and explained what was wrong. He would have told her how he felt, regardless of what it was. They’d always been open to each other, always forgiving. He could tell her anything, and if she didn’t understand she would ask for more information. Yet he knew—or at least he should’ve known—that he could say anything to her.
She loved him.
The man who’d faced her only minutes earlier hadn’t wanted comfort or understanding. He hadn’t even looked at her. Gordon had gone out of his way to be hurtful, and she’d never known him to behave like that.
Still, love wasn’t convenient. It didn’t vanish when things got difficult. Her love for Gordon hadn’t dissipated after five years of separation. It wasn’t going to disappear now. Besides, love was even more important during turbulent times.
The girl she’d been, sweet and perhaps naive, would have retreated to her room with hurt feelings. However, she’d had five years of experience to fall back on. Gordon had come back into her life. She wasn’t going to let him walk out of it again. If he had any issues with her, if he was angry or annoyed, he was simply going to have to tell her what was wrong. She was not going to accept either silence or his absence again. He was too important to her happiness.
For the next hour she saw to her hostess duties, all the while hoping that Gordon would reappear. She didn’t get her wish, but at least the guests at this gathering were replete with food, stories, and enough whiskey to make them wish that they hadn’t raised their glass for another toast.
She escaped for a few moments to check on Lauren. Mrs. Farmer had told her—at excruciating length—that a gentlewoman, especially acountess, did not leave her bedroom after giving birth for at least two weeks.
She didn’t tell the midwife that her mother hadn’t followed such an arbitrary rule. She’d heard stories of how Mary had arrived back at Adaire Hall carrying her. A combination of bad weather, a ruined road, and a broken wheel had kept her parents stranded at a friend’s house. Instead of being born at the Hall, Jennifer had been born near London. However, her mother had always told her that it didn’t make her any less of a Scot.
Mrs. Farmer was, unfortunately, still as jealous a guardian as she had been before Mary’s birth. Jennifer had been given strict instructions that she wasn’t to disturb the countess with any distressing news. Nor was she to ask any intrusive questions. She was to treat Lauren as if she were a delicate flower, easily bruised.
From what she’d seen, Jennifer didn’t think that a delicate flower could survive childbirth, but she was careful not to say that to Mrs. Farmer.
