She curtsied and bowed her head just enough to be appropriate. “You have my deepest apologies, Your Grace.”
Ah, an apology…or so he thought.
“As it were, I have no recollection of naming you or anyone else such a thing,” she went on without a bat of her long, thick lashes. Her steady gaze was impossible to decipher. “Nevertheless, I hope we can let bygones be bygones.”
No such recollection? What game did she play? The whole of England and Scotland knew what she had done. Yet it seemed she was not about to admit it when he had quite hoped she would. That they might clear the air and start anew. Because hedidwant to start anew with her. Move past the high walls she had built around herself.
Walls he recognized.
While he meant to say he was willing to let bygones be bygones because such had been his very intention, he had trouble putting voice to it quite yet. What held his tongue? Why not release her of any accountability at this very moment?For that very reason, he imagined his late wife, Elizabeth, saying.She must own up to her actions.
And show a sense of accountability.
How could Lady Barrington ever push past what she had become if she did not acknowledge the harm she had done to others along the way?
“Well, then,” Maude said when an awkward silence fell. She looked from her sister to Jacob. “It has been a long day of travel for you both, so I insist you join me and Lord MacLauchlin for a spot of tea.”
“I would like that, my lady.” He smiled at Maude. “Thank you.”
“Our pleasure.”
Based on the way Prudence stiffened, he knew that was the last thing she wanted to do, but Maude joined wrapped arms with her and headed for the drawing room, giving her little choice. If that were not enough, she joined her husband on one sofa, allowing Prudence no other option but to sit beside Jacob on the opposite one.
Well aware of their matchmaking ways, he did not miss the knowing look Blake and Maude exchanged. A look he could not help but wonder if Prudence caught. Did she know what her sister was up to? He had figured it out within minutes of arriving when he learned who else was coming. Naturally, Blake hoped Jacob did not mind Lady Barrington being invited as well, given their past. He, of course, had pointed out, “How could I mind when you have already gotten me here under what I suspect were false pretenses?”
Despite the twinkle in his eyes, Blake had denied it. “You two need not cross paths if you wish, but have you not long laid that anger to rest, old chap?”
He had, and his friend knew it.
Now that Blake was in love, he likely wanted Jacob to find that kind of happiness again too. He might have reminded him that no such thing existed beyond what he had shared with Elizabeth. That did not keep him from enjoying the fairer sex, though.
Something he did, albeit discreetly, as tea was served. Despite her rather lackluster, somber clothing, there could be no denying Prudence possessed curves enough to please a man. From her full bosom to the tight cinch of her waist, she would look ravishing in the right gown. He wondered how long she kept her silky chestnut-colored hair. How might it look fanned around her face in the throes of pleasure?
If that is, she was capable of expressing carnal pleasure.
“This is quite the room, Lord MacLauchlin,” Prudence said. “I take it these are your ancestors?”
Her assessing yet wary gaze flickered over the medieval Scotsman staring down from the life-sized portrait hanging nearby. She cleared her throat and stiffened to the point he was surprised her back did not break. He wondered what she saw when she looked at it. An ill-kept barbarian with his claymore at the ready? Or perhaps hidden beneath her studious façade, she noticed more? Mayhap the strength of his form?
“Aye, they are my ancestors.” Blake grinned at the warrior from whom Prudence had so quickly averted her eyes. “That particular ancestor was laird of this verra castle nearly five hundred years ago.”
“Then you have my compliments.” Prudence nodded once as though paying him a rare boon. “It is clear your people have come far since then.”
Barbarian it was, then.
“Hispeople?” Jacob arched an eyebrow at her and tried to ignore her sweet scent, given she had just made clear how she felt about the Scottish. “Once again, you remind me how bold your tongue, Lady Barrington.”
Prudence blinked at him as though she had somehow forgotten he was Scottish too. That she had insulted not just the current laird of this castle but a visiting duke. Her gaze whipped back to Blake, yet her hand remained steady on her teacup.
“I meant no harm, Lord MacLauchlin.” Prudence did her best to smooth things over. “One could just as easily say my people have come far, too. That the English knights of yesteryear are now civilized gentlemen rather than celebrated conquerors.”
“Perhaps celebrated in England,” Jacob said dryly. Befriending this lass was going to be harder than he thought. He had no issues with the English and would not start now. He would set history straight, though. “But I think the term ‘ruthless’ would be a more apt description for such horrific events as the Jacobite Rising and subsequent Highland Clearances, where thousands of Scots lost their lives and clan system no thanks to England’s young pretender, Charles Edward.” He tilted his head in question. “Would you not agree, Lady Barrington?”
The color drained from her face, yet still, her cup remained steady. Always so steady. Practiced. But was that a telling twitch of her brow? A quickening of her breath?
“I think what Lady Barrington meant to say,” Blake said, coming to her rescue, “is that our countries have come far over the centuries. That peace and prosperity are always preferable to war.”
“Indeed,” Prudence said a little too quickly. “Quite right, my lord.” She nodded at Jacob rather briskly. “Your Grace.”
