Page 66 of My Highland Rogue
She made her way to Lauren’s bed, and despite the midwife’s frown, sat on the edge of the mattress. Lauren had insisted that Mary’s cradle be beside her, and Mrs. Farmer had grudgingly allowed such an arrangement. Lauren had also insisted on nursing her own child. Jennifer couldn’t quite tell if Mrs. Farmer agreed or disagreed with such a decision. The woman’s face underwent a series of expressions each time she lifted Mary out of her cradle and delivered her to Lauren.
“You’ve come at the perfect time,” Lauren saidwith a smile. “Mary’s just gone down for a nap. Her tummy is full and her nappy isn’t.”
Lauren had always been a pretty girl, but giving birth had bestowed on her something, a quality Jennifer found difficult to describe. Perhaps it was radiance.
“I think she must’ve gained a great deal of weight already.”
Tradition dictated that a baby was never weighed before her first birthday, so it would be a mystery until then. The baby did look extraordinarily healthy with a boisterous set of lungs.
“Are you hungry?”
Lauren smiled. “I’m always hungry lately,” she said.
Jennifer went to the door, opened it, and waved two maids inside. She had prepared a tray for not only Lauren, but Mrs. Farmer. She’d also provided a selection of beverages. She wasn’t the least bit surprised when Mrs. Farmer chose whiskey and Lauren opted for ale.
“Thank you for thinking of us,” Lauren said.
The midwife unbent enough to add her thanks to Lauren’s.
“Have you seen Harrison today?”
Lauren’s face changed, ever so slightly, but it was enough to tell Jennifer what she needed to know. The baby hadn’t changed Harrison’s character. It was one thing to ignore an infant. Mary wouldn’t know of her father’s desertion—but Lauren?
“He’s in the Clan Hall,” Jennifer said, exchanging a glance with Mrs. Farmer.
Regardless of how Harrison behaved, Lauren would be a good mother, and Jennifer would be a good aunt. The newest Adaire wouldn’t notice for a while that her father didn’t seem to care for her.
Who did Harrison care about, besides himself?
Jennifer spent a while in conversation with Lauren and Mrs. Farmer before returning to the celebration in the Clan Hall.
Her brother was still in the corner, playing laird to a nonexistent clan. It suited him, just as it did to dress up in the Adaire tartan from time to time, as if to remind everyone exactly who he was.
“Where’s the bereaved son?” he asked her, surveying the crowd.
She estimated that there were still at least a hundred people in the Clan Hall, even though it had been hours since the men had returned from the churchyard.
“He isn’t here. Why, do you want to cause a scene with him?”
“I want him gone, Jennifer.”
She deserved some say in what happened at the Hall. She’d served as its factor, steward, and chatelaine for the past five years without recognition or thanks. When she said as much to her brother, he sent her a quick look.
“Bored, Jennifer? Prefer to have your lover in residence? Don’t worry. We have some new stable boys who might interest you.”
She took a deep breath and told herself not to respond. Harrison’s coarseness had always beena goad. Conversation with him was often a blood sport.
“What? No rejoinder? Have you already sampled them?”
“Must you be so horrible, Harrison? On this occasion?”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Jennifer, but this is my home. Not yours. You live here on sufferance.”
She always had, a comment she didn’t bother to make.
Did he never give any thought to who would do the quarterly allowances if she didn’t? Who would do the accounts? Who would ensure that the repairs to the Hall were made so that the bricks didn’t fall down around their heads? Who would perform the inventory, instruct the housekeeper, meet with the majordomo and the stable master?
Harrison had no concept of how things ran. He probably thought that elves came out of the woodwork or brownies worked after midnight to polish the silver and clean the floors.
