“All right.” She gave in, but only because little stabbing pains were darting up her rib cage. She did not think she could stand on her feet much longer.
The innkeeper was about to give them rooms on the upper floor, but Solway immediately shook his head. “No, that won’t do. We’ll require a room for the ladies on the main floor.”
Miranda looked at the narrow flight of stairs that led upstairs and breathed a sigh of relief when the innkeeper cast a frowning glance at his reservations register and hastily made a notation. “You shall all be accommodated in our best suites. Right this way, Your Grace.”
Solway arched an eyebrow and grinned at Miranda as the innkeeper led them past a cozy seating area, then an elegant dining room, and down a beautifully decorated hallway to their guest quarters.
“Stop gloating, Solway,” she whispered.
“Why do ye think I am gloating?” he asked, arching an eyebrow and grinning because he knew he had done a good deed for her by insisting on rooms on this main floor of the inn.
“I would not have made it up those stairs. You have won the day.”
“I’m no’ gloating,” he said quietly. “It hurts my heart to know ye are in pain and that my family was the cause of it. I’ll never forgive myself.”
She looked up at him in surprise. “No, ignore my grumbling. How can you possibly be to blame? You’ve done all in your power to atone for your idiot kinsmen. I would never blame you.”
Her words must have surprised him in return, for he paused to allow Gwenys to move on with the innkeeper, and then he smiled. “Och, Miranda—could it be ye are softening toward me?”
“Do not get ahead of yourself. I am merely acknowledging your good care of me and Gwenys during our travels. I know I have been a difficult patient, but I promise to rest and do better to heed Tilda’s instructions.”
“Thank ye,” he said with a nod.
“It is I who must express my gratitude to you. I do apologize for behaving like an obstinate donkey.”
“Nay, lass. Ye do no’ owe me any apologies. I know how hard it must be for ye to endure the constant jostling to yer ribs.”
“Your carriage is quite comfortable. I know this trip home could have been a lot worse for me.”
“Indeed, it could have,” Gwenys interjected, calling to them with her typical cheer from a nearby room that was to be theirs for the evening. “Keep up, Aunt Miranda. Have a look at our lovely guest quarters.”
The innkeeper, a jovial man by the name of Mr. Thatcher, was obviously well acquainted with Solway, and pleased Gwenys was most complimentary about the arrangements. “Have a look, Your Grace. I gave the ladies our best guest chamber. Yours is also quite excellent and right next door.”
“Well done, Thatcher,” Solway replied with a congenial nod. The pair kept up an amiable conversation as the innkeeper led Solway to his bedchamber.
Of course, Miranda and Gwenys followed out of curiosity after a quick inspection of their own. Both guest chambers were spacious and immaculately maintained. There was fresh water in their ewers, scented soaps and fresh cloths atop their bureaus. The beds appeared soft and generously stuffed with down and not cheap straw.
“Shall I have meals delivered to your rooms?” the innkeeper asked.
Solway looked to Miranda for an answer, since he was obviously concerned about her injured ribs.
“No,” she said, not really understanding why she was being so stubborn in refusing to admit she was not yet fully recovered. Of course, it galled her to admit any weakness on her part. “We shall dine in the dining room.”
“Give us yer best table, Mr. Thatcher,” Solway said, although his gaze suggested she was being stupid and ought to just take to her bed. “I’ll call on ye ladies in half an hour. Will that give ye time to ready yerselves?”
“Yes,” Gwenys replied for both of them.
Solway nodded, but he was frowning as they left his chamber with Mr. Thatcher.
In truth, it eased Miranda to know he had been given the room next door to theirs.
She was feeling much better by the time they had washed, changed into fresh clothes, and entered the dining room.
They had just been led to their table and taken their seats when Gwenys gasped. “Oh, no! I don’t believe it.”
Miranda followed her gaze and groaned.
The Lawsons were also returning to London from the Aberdeen wedding. In their party were Gwenys’s father and odious stepmother, her newlywed stepsister, and the spoiled girl’s new husband, who happened to be a Scottish baron by the name of Montrose.
