Page 84 of My Highland Rogue
“No. There’s a woman who was there that night. She was a nursery maid, but she won’t talk.”
McNair adjusted his suit jacket, then his cuffs, before straightening his pen and the stack of papers in front of him. He reached for a blank sheet of paper, put it on his blotter, then folded his hands before looking at Gordon.
“I believe you, Mr. McDonnell.”
Gordon looked at him, surprised. “Why?”
“Because when you walked into my office it was like seeing a ghost. Alexander Adaire was one of my closest friends. At school he and I were inseparable. I’ve been to Adaire Hall many times. When he died, he was still a young man, and there are many people who mourn him to this day. I’m one of them. You’re the image of your father, McDonnell.”
He hadn’t expected that. He didn’t remember the earl since he’d only been five when the man died. Nor were there any portraits of him anywhere.
“I am very sorry, however, but I can’t take your case.”
Gordon wasn’t unduly surprised. However, he had two more names on his list.
“Thank you for your time,” he said, standing.
“Please sit down,” McNair said. “Aren’t you curious as to why I’m not going to take your case?”
“It’s not hard to understand. All I have is a story. I can’t prove any of it.”
“That’s not why, Mr. McDonnell. I cannot represent you if I’m also going to appear as a witness.”
Gordon sat, looking at the advocate. “A witness?”
“You’re the mirror image of your father. I have a number of friends, men who knew Alex who would say the same. I don’t doubt that they’ll stand as witnesses as well.”
He pulled a sheet of paper to him and began to write.
“In the meantime, I’m recommending anotheradvocate. Let me write a quick note to him, and you can take it now. He’s just across the street. Tell him what I said. I don’t think he’ll have any reluctance to take your case.”
McNair folded the note and gave it to him. True to his word, the advocate he recommended was anxious to represent him.
“If you have Robert McNair as a witness in your defense, your claim is as good as granted.”
Gordon began walking back to the Waverly Hotel, feeling better about one part of his life. He’d never considered that he might resemble his father. If it was true that he was so like the fifth earl, enough that McNair was willing to be his witness, then perhaps it would make it easier to prove that the earldom had been stolen from him.
He’d never actively hated anyone. It seemed to him that hatred was a wasted emotion, requiring too much energy and reaping few rewards. In this instance, however, he allowed himself the luxury of hating Betty McDonnell and wishing her to eternal perdition.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“The Campbells’ retiring room is always cold,” Abigail said. “And their tea is never hot. No one who works there ever has any time for me, so I’m put in a corner to wait.”
Abigail’s complaints had begun the minute they entered the carriage. Ellen didn’t respond, but then she normally remained silent. If you got into a discussion about anything Abigail said, the maid grew even more voluble.
“It’s a dreich day, which means it’ll be even colder. I don’t think their housekeeper likes me, which is why I’m not given acceptable refreshments.”
Jennifer looked up to find that Ellen was studying her.
“I think it would be best if you saw my physician, Jennifer. I’ve sent word to him and he can come tomorrow. I absolutely insist.”
She knew why her godmother thought she was ill. She would admit that she was acting oddly, but how else was she supposed to behave? She couldn’t cry. The pain was too deep for tears. It was easier to sleep or simply stare at the wall. She didn’t want to feel anything, because it was easier that way.
“Very well.”
She didn’t care. Let a physician examine her. Let him ask her all sorts of intrusive questions. He would never ask the right one. He would never say to her, “Lady Jennifer, have you lost your will to live? Has everything in your life suddenly lost meaning?” No, he wouldn’t ask those questions, would he?
Ellen didn’t look away. “Do you know how worried I am about you?”
