The Scottish Bride - Catherine Coulter [128]
“He did enjoy himself,” Sophie said, and frowned slightly as she looked over at him now. Mary Rose knew what she was seeing. A man who was distracted, a man who wasn’t really with them, but off somewhere, deep in his thoughts, and she’d bet those thoughts weren’t wonderful.
Sophie turned to smile at her husband as she said, “It is bedlam.” She saw that Ryder was standing in the middle of the drawing room, holding Leo’s head under one arm and Max’s head under the other, rubbing them together. “Ryder loves them all so. Give him a crying child and that child will be smiling within moments. You know he is also a member of the House of Commons. That job and the children keep him very busy.”
“You make it sound like you do nothing at all save sit about eating sweetmeats,” Mary Rose said. “Remember, I was there at Chadwyck House. I saw how you never slowed from dawn until dusk.”
“Well, I quite enjoy being responsible for all our tenant farmers. I can tell you the very best sheep-breeding methods, the most efficacious manures to be plowed into our fields, the best milking cows to be had—goodness, I am quite the expert on crops. Just let me tell you all about barley and rye sometime.” She laughed gaily, adding, “In addition, naturally, I have to keep my dear husband under control, always a fascinating and demanding job.”
“I saw that it was,” Mary Rose said.
“Ha,” Alex said, poking her elbow into Sophie’s side. “Ryder dotes on you. He gets within three feet of you and he’s licking his lips. It’s embarrassing, Sophie.”
“And just what about you, Alex? You’re one to talk. I can see Douglas staring at your bosom from across the room, and he is supposed to be attending to what poor Tysen is trying to say.”
Mary Rose listened to the good-natured bickering between her sisters-in-law. She liked them both, impossible not to. They were open, friendly, and didn’t seem to mind at all that she was from Scotland and spoke with a lilt.
Alex said then, “Max was telling us all what he said to you at dinner one evening when you first came. Something about he wouldn’t eat his broccoli—and he said it in Latin. Then you answered—also in Latin. Well done, Mary Rose. Max seems so much less, well, how do I say it? He seems more lighthearted, more ready for fun, than he ever has before. It’s amazing, don’t you think, Sophie?”
“Oh, yes,” Sophie said thoughtfully. “And Leo. He simply couldn’t sit still at Chadwyck House. He was just telling me that he likes to ride, primarily with you, Mary Rose. He said that you could sing to a horse and the horse would start running faster than the wind.”
Mary Rose thought about that small jest with Leo, still so surprised that her borrowed mare, Dahlia, had actually nearly run her legs off when she’d sung that Robert Burns ditty. “They are both dear boys,” Mary Rose said, “unlike Meggie here, who gives me nothing but trouble. She is always criticizing me, always telling me what I should do and what I shouldn’t do.”
Meggie only laughed and pulled Mary Rose’s earlobe.
Sophie and Alex looked at each other. They’d been pleased before when a laughing Tysen had brought his bride to visit them. They were even more pleased now. Tysen had chosen well this time.
Meggie said, “Mary Rose has nearly as sweet a smile as you do, Aunt Sophie.”
“Very well,” Sophie said on a sigh. “You may wear my garnet bracelet, Meggie.”
“Thank you,” Meggie said.
“That was well done,” Mary Rose said, tilting her head at Meggie. “Am I as easy as your aunt?”
“I haven’t yet tested you, Mary Rose. We will see.”
Mary Rose later went to the stables with Leo to see his uncle Douglas’s stallion, Garth, a brute with a vile temper, Leo told her, that made Uncle Douglas laugh with pleasure when he tried to fling him off his back. She was to