Page 49 of Heirs and Graces at Highland Hall
‘Do you really know nothing about this?’
‘It’ll make sense soon enough.’
After dropping them off, Roddy drove immediately back to the village. Apparently, he had another two drop-offs to do and had already done four before picking them up. By the sounds of things, it was going to be a good night for him, money-wise, anyway.
While Bex didn’t immediately discover what the haggis’s role was, the pipes became evident before they had even stepped inside the castle. The unmistakable tones of the bagpipes drifted through the air, causing a nervous excitement to flutter through her. There was so much to Scottish culture that she loved, and she didn’t think this night was going to be any different.
When they headed past the drawing room and study, down the corridor, towards the dining hall, Bex was forced to do a double take. No wonder the workers had been so loud. The place was transformed. The wood-panelled ceiling was covered in sheer black drapes, interspersed with ivy garlands that sparkled with thousands of fairy lights while a long table had been set down the centre, with candles and tartan napkins with more places laid out than Bex had ever thought possible. It was like she had stepped in to a fairy tale. Or an incredibly expensive wedding venue. All around them, people milled around in the ballroom, glasses of whisky and champagne in hand.
‘Kieron!’ Lorna said excitedly at the sight of their host.
As his head turned in their direction, a smile flashed across his face.
‘Glad you could all make it,’ he said, looking at the group, before focusing her attention on Bex. ‘You look beautiful, Rebecca,’ he said as he kissed her gently on the cheek, before stepping back as if he needed to fully take her in.
‘Thank you,’ she replied.
Something prickled uncomfortably behind her skin. It was a perfect, gentlemanly gesture, and yet it was so different from the way it had been earlier with Duncan. Duncan had barely grazed her skin, and yet her whole body had rushed with heat, so much so that his very presence had consumed her. She’d wanted nothing more than to grab him, pull him close and never let him go. Whatever this was with Kieron, it wasn’t the same. Guilt built within her. Kieron was a catch, and he would make someone a very lucky woman, but she didn’t think that was going to be her.
‘Don’t forget about our dances later,’ he said. ‘But now, I’m afraid I have work to do.’
‘Of course,’ Bex said.
As Kieron turned back to the main hall, she noticed the waiter walking around with a tray of champagne and found herself desperate to down one. Yet before she could attract their attention, Kieron was knocking his ring against his glass, sending a chime out into the air.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, if you would like to take your seats, please.’ Kieron’s voice rose above the chatter. ‘It is time to welcome you to your places.’
39
With no idea what to expect, Bex had assumed they would all just take seats wherever they wanted, yet as she walked towards the dining table, she saw little name plaques in front of each seat. It was then that she realised she had neither accepted nor declined Kieron’s offer to be her date for the night. For a brief second, she feared she would be seated next to him. Thankfully, she was a couple of places down, but nowhere near any of her friends. On her left was a slightly older man, and on her right, a woman a couple of years younger than herself.
‘Yohan Dunsire,’ the man said in a broad Scottish accent as he extended his hand. ‘Local police commissioner.’
‘Oh. Rebecca Barker,’ Bex replied, feeling the need to give her full name. ‘Accountant. Though, you can probably tell from the accent that I’m not a local.’
Yohan’s overly bushy eyebrows twitched slightly. ‘Ye the lass who did all the work for Fergus?’
‘Yes,’ Bex said. ‘That’s me.’
‘Hmm. I thought you’d left. Heard you and the groundskeeper broke up, too.’
Bex felt a muscle twitch in her jaw. There was really no chance of privacy here. It was absolutely insane how much people knew. Even people she’d never met before. And if it was this bad for her, she could only imagine what it must have been like for Duncan. ‘Yes, I did leave last summer,’ she replied, hoping that the police commissioner would understand that her private life wasn’t a conversation point for the evening. ‘I’m just back to help with a few things. You know. With Fergus and everything…’
‘Right, yes. Terribly sad. Good man, Fergus. A very good man indeed.’
As the chatter continued, Bex learned that the woman beside her was a journalist, someone Kieron knew from London, who must have said the word ‘vibe’ at least six times in her first sentence. Beyond the people she had come with, Bex recognised a few faces, including, unsurprisingly, Moira, Horace – Roddy’s father – and several others from the pub. But from where she was seated, it was impossible to see over half of the guests, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Gordon had decided to come or not. As for Duncan, there was no way Kieron wouldn’t have invited him, given everything he did for the estate. That would just be churlish. Whether Duncan would show his face was another matter.
‘Ladies and gentlemen.’ Kieron clinked on his glass again as he rose at the head of the table. Hush fell over the dining hall as everyone turned to look at him. ‘Thank you for joining me here at Highland Hall. I know today is a day shrouded by sadness, so I want to start by raising a toast to the man we all knew and loved. My beloved uncle, Fergus.’
The glasses went into the air.
‘To Fergus!’
Date or no date, Bex appreciated Kieron’s choice of toast. Mentioning Fergus at the very start of the evening was, in her opinion, absolutely the right thing to do, and he wasn’t finished.
‘There are many here who knew him better than I did,’ Kieron continued as the toasts subsided. ‘And that is my shame. It is my shame that our lives took us so far apart until now. But I hope, with you all here beside me, you’ll help me learn about this man whose role I will try to deserve, and whose gift of this lordship I will honour.’
Emotion swept across the table. Moira stared absentmindedly into her glass while the man beside her was dabbing his tears with a handkerchief.
