Mine Is the Night_ A Novel - Liz Curtis Higgs [127]
His steady gaze met hers. “A ring can be replaced, Bess. A daughter cannot.”
Fifty-Four
We often give our enemies
the means for our own destruction.
AESOP
ack strode through the quiet halls of Bell Hill, glad to be home. Not sailing the high seas, not calling at foreign ports, not climbing the rugged Highland hills. Home.
Even the rainy Sabbath afternoon could not dampen his mood. He’d been welcomed back by many at kirk that morning and had rubbed shoulders with Michael Dalgliesh, assured of much luck in love. A foolish custom, aye, but harmless.
Sitting beside Elisabeth, he’d almost rubbed shoulders with her too, so crowded was the pew. Mrs. Kerr and Gibson did little to hide their regard for each other, all but holding hands throughout the service. An odd pairing, Jack thought, but who was he to say where love might lead? As for Elisabeth, she was equally kind to all who crossed her path, which both pleased and disappointed him. Might she not shower a bit more attention on him?
Selfish, Jack. And thoughtless. She is a widow in mourning, remember?
Jack paused at the door to his dining room, with its long windows facing the garden, then he squinted, peering through the rain. Was someone approaching the house? Jack could barely make out the shape of a man dressed in dark colors, head bent against the blustery storm. The fellow was limping, Jack realized. He started toward the front door, intending to greet him. Was the man injured perhaps? Or merely seeking shelter from the elements?
Upon reaching the entrance hall, Jack pulled the bell cord, summoning Roberts from his private quarters. His butler appeared moments later, straightening his coat.
“Sorry, milord. Taking a wee Sunday nap …”
“No matter. We’ve a stranger about to knock on our door,” Jack told him. “See to his needs. Dry clothes, warm food, and a chair by the fire.”
“Very good, sir.” Roberts pulled open the great oak door, startling their visitor in the process.
“Lord Buchanan?” the man asked, looking over the butler’s shoulder.
“Indeed, sir.” Jack stepped forward, making a quick assessment. Thirty years of age perhaps, the dark-haired, dark-eyed man was not quite so tall or broad as he but a sizable figure nonetheless. His club foot explained the limp. The bundle under his arm was a mystery.
“Come, come,” Jack urged him, beckoning his visitor inside. “ ’Tis miserable to be out of doors in such weather.”
The younger man walked across the marble floor, trying in vain to hide his deformity. Jack could hardly blame him. Would he not do the same?
“I thank ye for yer kindness,” the stranger began. For a large man, he was uncommonly soft spoken, though the Highland lilt in his voice was easily detected. “I was sent here by Fiona Ferguson …, eh, Cromar.”
“Mrs. Cromar?” Jack echoed, staring at the man. “From Castleton of Braemar?”
“Aye, milord. The verra same.” He unbuttoned the dripping wool cape round his thick neck, then removed it with a gallant sweep. “Micht this be hung by the hearth for a wee bit?”
Roberts claimed the garment at once, then led the two men into the drawing room, where a crackling wood fire held the damp air at bay.
By now Mrs. Pringle had been alerted and stood in the doorway, awaiting orders.
“Will hot tea do?” Jack asked his guest. “Or is whisky more to your liking?”
“Tea,” the man said firmly, though he eyed the glass decanters, their amber contents sparkling in the firelight.
Jack nodded at his housekeeper, then directed his guest to a leather chair well suited for wet clothing. “You say Mrs. Cromar sent you?”
“In a manner o’ speaking.” The man untied his bundle, wrapped in calfskin, and produced a card advertising a tailoring shop in Edinburgh. “This is whaur I warked,” he explained, “and these are some o’ the garments I stitched.”
Jack barely looked at the neat stack of clothing. “Am I to understand you are … a tailor?”
“Aye, milord.” He smiled, though it did not soften his features. “Mrs. Cromar told me ye had need o’ my services.”
Jack shook his head in disbelief. “But all I require is livery for a