Page 82 of My Highland Rogue
Mary had often spoken of the gardener’s son in admiring tones. As far as Ellen was concerned, Gordon had impressed her because of his care and concern for Jennifer. She was more than willing to overlook his antecedents because Jennifer loved him.
However, something drastic had happened and Jennifer hadn’t explained. Why was the wedding canceled?
Hamish Campbell had invited them to a luncheon. She would like to see Hamish again, renew their acquaintance, and see the baby as well. Mary would be so pleased to know that she had a granddaughter.
When Harrison had been smart enough to offer for Lauren, Ellen had been overjoyed. She’d given up thinking that he was going to do something right. However, he’d managed to be married only a year and the young couple was already havingproblems. She didn’t doubt that Harrison’s living in London was the reason.
The distraction of a visit to the Campbells would do Jennifer good. If nothing else, perhaps she would confide in Lauren. When she informed Jennifer of the invitation and the fact that she was going to accept it, her goddaughter didn’t say a word to her. She didn’t even nod. All she did was smile wanly in her direction.
Ellen hated feeling inept. Nor was she happy about being unable to help Jennifer. She loved that girl more than anyone else on earth. Sometimes, she thought that Colin had been jealous of her affection for Jennifer. More than once he’d made the comment that she should’ve had her own children. She wished she could have had his child, but regrets were foolish, a lesson she’d learned long ago.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Gordon had always been proud to be a Scot. In fact, he even accentuated his brogue in conversations with obstreperous Englishmen. Yet he felt a curious reluctance to cross the border into Scotland.
He was too close to Jennifer.
He still hadn’t called in Harrison’s markers, but the moment he did, he would essentially destroy Adaire Hall. The estate might be entailed, but if there wasn’t any money to operate and maintain it, it would only be a matter of time until the servants were disbanded, the house emptied of its treasures, and it became a home for ghosts.
He didn’t care. He’d never live there. The memories would be too disturbing. Not of Sean or Betty, but of Jennifer.
Jennifer, laughing. Jennifer, her face earnest as she confided a secret to him. Jennifer, weeping on those rare occasions when sadness overwhelmed her. Jennifer, angry at Harrison. They were almost always angry at Harrison together.
No, he couldn’t think of her. It was a habit he was going to have to learn somehow.
The minute he crossed into Scotland, he felthimself tensing. Perhaps it was a godsend that the journey was so difficult, requiring changing trains, being concerned about his baggage and carriage, and the sheer noise and belching soot he was subjected to, even in a first-class compartment.
Adaire Hall was far enough away that he didn’t have to worry about encountering anyone, yet he still found himself looking north.
He’d never been to Edinburgh. Five years ago when he’d left Adaire Hall, he’d headed south immediately, wanting away from everything that had reminded him of his upbringing.
Now he looked around him, feeling a sense of pride at what he saw. The city was crowded, but not as difficult to navigate as London. No doubt there were parts of Edinburgh that were less acceptable, but what he saw, from the castle on the hill to the prosperous homes and offices, was the equal of London architecture.
He should have come to the city before now. After all, he was a Scot and Edinburgh held the history of Scotland in her palm. He wondered if he should expand in Edinburgh. If he won his case, he’d be a Scottish peer. It made sense to come and live here.
He’d be too close to Adaire Hall, however.
The advocate’s office was in a redbrick building aged by soot. It possessed a minimum of windows and a maximum of pomp and ceremony. A doorman attired in scarlet livery greeted him at the door and bade him remain on the steps until his appointment had been verified.
A few minutes later, the door opened again,wider than before. Another man, dressed in a severe black suit, bowed slightly to him and invited him inside.
Gordon was immediately submersed in gloom.
He followed the man down a long corridor, then to the left. At the end of the hall was a window that barely lit the space.
The man hesitated midway down the hall and bowed again to Gordon before opening a door. He stepped to the center of the doorway, placed his gloved right hand on his chest, and intoned, “Mr. McDonnell to see you, sir.”
A moment later, he stepped to the side, motioning Gordon to enter.
He found himself in a dimly lit office. There was a row of windows behind the massive desk, but they were heavily curtained, and no one had thought to open them and allow a little brightness into the room. The only illumination was two gas sconces on either side of the room that gave off a weak yellow glow.
The man seated at the desk was probably thirty years older than Gordon. His hairline had receded, and the wispy strands across the top of his head were only a few months away from departing. His severely arched nose stood in relief, almost like a handle for the rest of his long face.
He stood, stared at Gordon, then abruptly sat once more. As a greeting it was unusual. Gordon didn’t know whether to announce himself again, stand there until the man regained his composure, or return the stare of the advocate, who was sitting there with his hands flat on his desk, wide eyes staring in Gordon’s direction.
Evidently, the man didn’t have new clients very often.
He strode forward, extending his hand. “My solicitor gave me your name and said that you might be able to help me, Mr. McNair.”
