Mine Is the Night_ A Novel - Liz Curtis Higgs [104]
One thought was foremost in his mind. Bess.
Jack was halfway to the door. “Escort my guest to the drawing room and serve him tea. I shall join him shortly,” he said, then bolted into the hall and down the stair. He’d avoided the man for more than a week. Why had he come today of all days?
The moment he crossed the threshold into Elisabeth’s workroom, Jack blurted out, “Lord Mark Kerr is here.”
She quickly put aside her sewing. “Have you spoken with him yet?”
“Nae.” Jack began to walk the perimeter of the room, his fists clenched. “How can I possibly drink tea with a man who so wronged your family?”
“With decorum, milord.” Elisabeth stood, her hands clasped behind her back.
Only then did he notice she was wearing her new black gown. “You look wonderful, by the way. That is to say, your gown—”
“I’m glad you are pleased.” She moved closer. “I’ve been saving it for your supper.” Elisabeth touched his arm so slightly he might have imagined it. “Do not let Lord Mark ruin the hours to come.”
“Indeed I will not,” he assured her. “I intend to find out why he is here, tell him nothing, and bid him leave.”
Minutes later Jack strode into his drawing room, not bothering to button his coat, his sheathed sword slapping against his boot. “General,” he said with a nod.
“Admiral,” he replied, nodding back. A man of perhaps sixty, the governor was tall, but not broad, and impeccably dressed. “Forgive me if my visit is poorly timed.”
“I am afraid it is.” Jack joined him at the spacious round table where an elaborate tea had been laid, with sweets and savories enough to feed ten military officers. He could trust Mrs. Pringle to see a thing well done. “Our visit must be brief,” Jack informed his unwelcome guest. “This eve I am hosting a supper for thirty.”
Lord Mark nearly choked on his tea. “Thirty people of rank? You must have imported them, sir, for you’ll not find more than a half-dozen peers in Selkirkshire.”
Jack held his tongue, remembering his own vow. Tell him nothing. “What brings you to Bell Hill, sir?”
“I wish only to make your acquaintance. As you know, I was awarded Tweedsford for my success in defeating the Jacobites.”
The man’s arrogance was contemptible. “I was not aware you single-handedly routed Prince Charlie and his men,” Jack said evenly.
Lord Mark stiffened. “I suppose a navy man cannot be expected to comprehend the dangers of close combat.”
“Oh, I’ve bested enough Spanish steel to understand very well.”
Lord Mark smoothed his narrow mustache. “May I trust you also will show no mercy to any Jacobite rebels who cross your path? You’ll find them to be cowards, easily dispatched.”
Jack shot to his feet, wanting to put an end to things before he thrust his sword through the man’s gullet. “Forgive me, but we’ll need to resume our discussion some other time. When Roberts escorts you to the door, inform him of a day that might suit you.”
Lord Mark abruptly stood. “I’ve no intention of remaining in Selkirkshire beyond the week. The house is drafty and ill furnished, and the gardens are in shambles. With due respect for His Majesty, Tweedsford is a poor prize. I’ve other estates, you know, and the Governor’s House at Edinburgh Castle is but four years old. I hardly need another residence.”
“So Tweedsford will sit empty?”
“I may return now and again.” Lord Mark shrugged. “The house has been vacant for a decade. Another ten years would hardly matter.”
The men bade each other farewell without crossing swords—a miracle, to Jack’s way of thinking. If he never spoke with General Lord Mark Kerr again, so much the better.
Jack walked into his dining room at precisely eight o’ the clock and found his household staff standing quietly round the table as the candles shimmered and the sterling silver gleamed. Thirty well-scrubbed faces turned to greet him: thirty souls, entrusted to his care, who daily served him with gladness.
Jack swallowed until the tightness in his throat eased. “