Page 87 of The Devil of Clan Sinclair
He hesitated in the middle of the room, his glance encompassing Agatha and Mary.
“His mother is here,” he said. “She isn’t to see him, under any conditions.”
“Is she still sick, sir?” Mary asked.
“She might be. I don’t know.”
She’d been foolhardy, coming after them so quickly. Anyone with a modicum of sense would have waited until she was well. Was that a sign of a mother’s devotion? Or her desperation?
Would there ever come a time when he judged Virginia simply, without looking for a dual purpose?
Mary frowned at him. “If she isn’t, sir, why shouldn’t she see him? She’s his mother. She’s the Countess of Barrett,” Mary added as if he didn’t know. “And Elliot is the eleventh Earl of Barrett.”
The wet nurse, being older and wiser, didn’t speak.
He looked at Mary. “She isn’t to see him.”
At the door, he turned. “Oh, and another thing. His name, from now on, is Alistair. Not Elliot.”
Her eyes widened but she didn’t say a word.
Fine, let her believe he was a despot. He didn’t care.
Brianag was in the kitchen garden, picking herbs. He almost asked if it was for one of her potions before he came to his senses. He didn’t need to alienate his housekeeper now.
The garden was a new addition to Drumvagen, something Brianag had insisted on when she came to work for him. He’d given her the latitude and the manpower, and the result was a neat square of hedges. Inside, protected from the ocean winds, were paths and herb beds. Nothing was labeled but she somehow knew which plant was which.
“We have a visitor, Brianag,” he said when she straightened. “She’s ill. Will you treat her?”
“The widow?” she asked, arranging the herbs in her basket.
Maybe he was wrong and she wasn’t picking just herbs. Something smelled of onion and lemon, twin odors surprisingly compatible.
“Do you know everything happening at Drumvagen?”
“What’s needed to know. The rest I just ignore.”
“She’s recovering from smallpox,” he said, amazed at the calmness with which he said those words.
“Has she any rash?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t see her.”
After the first glance, he hadn’t looked in her direction. The coachman, however, hadn’t had any qualms about carrying her. When he said as much to Brianag, she nodded.
“She’s probably through the worst of it.” She eyed him. “You’re worried she’s brought the sickness to Drumvagen.”
He nodded.
“You’re also worried about her.”
He frowned at her but didn’t refute her comment.
“You’ll be sending her home as soon as she’s well?”
“She doesn’t belong here.”
She smiled. “There were those who said the same about you, an Edinburgh man all for buying himself Drumvagen.”
