Page 65 of Christmas at Castle Dunrannoch
The countess had been mighty good about the sorry business—all things considered—but she’d reminded him that Miss Abernathy was there with a job to do. The job of making him decent for ‘polite society’, as she put it, and that Miss Abernathy was a decent gentlewoman herself.
She’d put him in his place all right, and reminded him that Ursula deserved better than a stand-up grope, delivered where anyone might walk in and see.
There were to be no more private lessons. The countess would sit in herself where she could, or ask one of his aunts to do so.
The upshot was, he’d had not a minute’s peace the whole time since.
The only consolation was that Ursula looked as miserable about it as he was. Was it wrong that he hoped she might be hankering after another of those sweet kisses and wondering how they might snatch one?
Doggone it!There he went again.
No matter what his blood was telling him it wanted, he was man enough to know when to leave a woman alone, and there was no excuse for him to forget the promise he’d made.
It included taking on one of those porcelain doll cousins. He just needed to work out which one he’d the best chance of falling for—or which of them seemed most in love with him. A few weeks back, he’d thought it would be pretty simple. A matter of time; nothing more.
Now, a whole heap of reasons kept getting in the way—and they all looked like Miss Ursula Abernathy.
As Rye entered the stable, there was a collective turn of heads from the half doors of each stall. Charon gave a whinny at his approach, bending to breathe into his palm.
“You and me, buddy.” Rye rested his forehead against the stallion’s nose. “Ready to stretch those legs and take a ride?”
The stable lad, Buckie, appeared beside him and Rye nodded his thanks at the offer of having Charon saddled up. He could do it himself, of course, but that wasn’t the point. Everyone employed at the castle had a job to do, and part of Rye’s job was to make them feel valued.
Rye took a wander down the stalls, pausing to whisper to each horse.
Only when he came to the last, which was empty, did he hear the muffled sobbing.
“Miss Abernathy?”
She was bundled with a strange assortment of woollens about her neck, and her nose was redder than a pig’s pate in the midday heat.
“You all right in there?”
With a self-conscious snuffle, she gathered herself upright and dabbed at her eyes.
Was she hiding out? She didn’t exactly look pleased to see him.
“I’m fine. Just…” she sighed heavily. “There are the most delicious smells wafting from the kitchen, and they’re putting up the last decorations in the banqueting hall today—for the dance—and raising the Christmas tree. Lady Dunrannoch asked my opinion and I had to tell her the truth.”
“Which is?” Rye raised an eyebrow.
“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Her voice dissolved in a wail.
Rye gave a low whistle. “Well, it sounds awful. No wonder you wanted to get out o’ there!”
Ursula gave a choked laugh. “I know it’s silly of me. It’s only that everyone’s so excited, and there’s so much bustle, and, and…”
“And you’re far from your own folks.” Rye finished the sentence for her. “You’re thinkin’ about the people you’d really like to be with.”
She frowned briefly, then nodded. “One person, really.” She sniffed. “My father—but he’s dead, so I won’t ever see him. It’s too late!” Ursula dropped her head, giving in once more to tears.
Rye didn’t need to think twice. He brought his arm round her.
Sometimes, a person just needed holding.
They stood for a while, until Ursula quietened and wiped her cheeks.
“I have to toughen up. I’m not the only one to have lost a parent.” She attempted to laugh. “None of your cousins are out here feeling sorry for themselves.”
