The Scottish Bride - Catherine Coulter [34]
“Leave be, my lord. Let Erickson have her. All will be well. She will not be abused. He will treat her kindly—why should he not? He is a good man, I swear it to you. He will also be sympathetic to her mother, see that she has nurses, and surely you must agree that this is something to admire in him. Her mother, Gweneth Fordyce, you see, is quite mad, has been for years. She is my wife’s younger sister, and she has lived with us since before Mary Rose was born. Leave off. Let the situation resolve itself in the way that it should. It is not your affair. Keep out of it, sir.”
Tysen looked Sir Lyon right in his very sincere face and said, “Why did Donnatella say that MacPhail wished to marry her? That makes no sense.”
“Ah, my little beauty,” said Sir Lyon, now at ease again, twirling the lovely crystal wineglass between his fingers. “She told me that she turned Erickson down. It was then, she told me, that he went on to Mary Rose. So Mary Rose is his second choice. Perhaps that is why she is teasing him so. She is upset that she is second in his affections. But it has always been so. Donnatella is very beautiful, and even as a child her beauty drew the boys from all around. Now, about Erickson. I suppose it must gall Donnatella, just a bit, you understand, to have the young man so very quickly change the, er, recipient of his affection. My little beauty has hinted to me that perhaps Erickson wants to be close to her, and thus his willingness to wed Mary Rose. Well, let Donnatella believe what she will. Erickson is very fond of Mary Rose. Now, do not worry about her, there is no need. It is a play with a happy ending. Let it work itself out.” And Sir Lyon smiled, replete with his lunch and with his wine, and more than pleased that he had so admirably performed his duty.
Tysen said, drawing himself straight and tall, “I will not allow this, Sir Lyon. If she doesn’t wish to wed him, why, that is the end to it. If you will not speak to the man, then I will. I will not allow Erickson MacPhail to rape her.”
Meggie was lying in her bed, the covers pulled up to her chin, for she had one of the long narrow windows open a bit and the evening air was cool. She said to her papa, “You are upset, Papa, and it is no longer about my sins.”
Tysen forced his attention back to his very precocious daughter. “It is an adult sort of problem, Meggie. It is about Mary Rose and the man you met last night—Erickson MacPhail. I must deal with a problem that involves the two of them.”
“Mrs. MacFardle said Mary Rose was a bastard. I overheard her talking about Mary Rose to Mr. and Mrs. Griffin when they were at luncheon. I asked Mrs. MacFardle later what that meant, and she said that Mary Rose’s mama hadn’t been married to her papa, that no one even knew who her papa was. Is that why there is a problem? Because Mary Rose doesn’t have a father?”
“Yes, that is part of it. What do you think of Mr. and Mrs. Griffin? I was sorry that they weren’t well enough to dine with us this evening.”
“Mr. Griffin doesn’t say much, just stands around looking at you, all disapproving, his mouth tight. Mrs. Griffin called me into the drawing room and told me to stand like a little soldier while she questioned me. She said I wasn’t to speak too softly or too quickly. I answered a great many questions, Papa. She has a mustache, just like Mr. Clint’s, in the village.”
“What were some of these questions?” He was irritated, but he supposed that since he’d gone on Donnatella’s tour, Meggie had been left to her own devices. Next time he would take Meggie with him. Her presence would keep Donnatella behaving properly if she was inclined toward flirtation.
“She asked me all about our family. She was particularly interested in Uncle Douglas. She said it would have been less repulsive if he were the new Baron Barthwick because he already had a