The Heiress Bride - Catherine Coulter [65]
“I wish to propose a toast,” Colin said, and rose to his feet. He lifted his wineglass. “To the new countess of Ashburnham.”
“Hear! Hear!” MacDuff shouted.
“Yes, indeed,” said Serena warmly.
The children looked from their father to their new stepmother. Philip said very clearly, “You’re not our mother even though Father has had to make you the countess to save us from ruin.”
Aunt Arleth smiled maliciously at Sinjun.
“No, I’m not your mother. If you hadn’t noticed, Philip, I’m far too young to be your mother. Goodness, I’m only nineteen. It was a strange thing for you to say, you know.”
“Even when you’re old you won’t be our mother.”
Sinjun only smiled at the boy. “Perhaps not. Soon my mare, Fanny, should arrive. She’s a great goer, Philip. Do you ride?”
“Of course,” he said in a scornful voice. “I’m a Kinross and someday I will be the laird. Even Dahling rides, and she’s just a little nit.”
“Excellent. Perhaps both of you will show me some of the countryside on the morrow.”
“They have their lessons,” said Aunt Arleth. “I must teach them, since the governesses won’t stay. It’s Serena’s duty, but she shirks it.”
Colin said mildly, “Joan is a treat, Aunt. Let the children attend her. No matter their snits, she is their stepmother and is here to stay. They must get to know her.” He then bent a very stern eye on his son. “You won’t torment her, do you understand me, Philip?”
“Yes,” Sinjun agreed in high good humor, “no snakes in my bed, no slimy moss dredged up from a swamp for me to sit on or clutch in my hand in the dark.”
“We have better things than that,” Dahling said.
“The slime is an interesting thought,” Philip said, and Sinjun recognized that intense contemplative look. She’d seen it a number of times on every child’s face she’d ever known.
“Eat your potatoes,” Colin said. “Forget slime.”
There was haggis for dinner, and Sinjun wondered if she would fade away and become another resident ghost through lack of food. At least there were several removes, so she managed to eat enough to satisfy her. She listened to Colin and MacDuff discuss several business ventures and problems with local people. She drifted a bit, for there was still pain between her thighs, dull and throbbing now, but still there. She jerked her head up when she heard Colin say, “I’ll be leaving in the morning to return to Edinburgh. There is much to be done.”
“Now that you have her money?” Aunt Arleth said.
“Yes,” Colin said. “Now that I have her money I can begin to solve all the miserable problems left by my father and brother.”
“Your father was a great man,” said Arleth. “None of it was his fault.”
Colin opened his mouth, then merely smiled and shook his head. He continued his conversation with MacDuff. Sinjun would have liked to throw her plate at his head. He truly was going to dump her here in this strange place, and without a by-your-leave. Wonderful, just wonderful. Two children who would do their best to make her life miserable, and two women who would probably just as soon see her jump from one of the crenellated towers as speak to her.
Serena said, “We must have a party for your wife, Colin. It will be expected. All our neighbors will be aghast to learn that you’ve married again so quickly—after all, it’s only been seven months—but since you only did it for her money, it’s best that they understand it as quickly as possible. Don’t you agree, MacDuff?”
Cousin MacDuff said nothing, merely turned to Colin when he said, “When I return we will discuss it.”
Sinjun forked down a bit of potatoes and gave her attention to her new home. It was far more pleasant than her dinner companions. The Tudor dining room