Page 13 of A Highland Duke to Claim Her Heart

“I think it is very progressive,” Lady Cassandra said, smiling warmly at him and then at his daughter. “After all, Mistress Annabelle is quite grown up, is she not? Already the proper young lady.”

Annabelle beamed. “Do you really think so, Lady Cassandra?” she asked in her small, high voice.

“I do,” Lady Cassandra said, leaning closer and winking at her. “If I were half as ladylike as you are when I was your age, my mother would have been saved a great deal of worry!”

Everyone laughed at this, and Ewan felt admiration swell inside of him. Lady Cassandra was making his daughter feel welcome and included, even when she herself was the newcomer and swimming in uncharted waters.

Lady Pembury, however, seemed less than pleased as she frowned at her daughter.

“A lady should only speak of her accomplishments in public,” she said. “Never her failings.”

“I hardly think it is a failing if a girl of five is not yet ladylike,” Lillian chimed in. “And from what I can see so far, Lady Cassandra grew into the perfect young lady.”

She and Lady Cassandra shared a meaningful smile, and Ewan chanced a glance at Lady Pembury. Her lips were pursed, and he got the distinct impression that she was unhappy about the easy way that her daughter was making friends and allies in this new house against her.

However, she changed the conversation with aplomb.

“And when can we expect your brother, Lord Christopher, to return to Calder Castle, Your Grace?” she asked. “I must admit, we were expecting him to be here already when we arrived.”

An uneasy silence fell over the table, and Ewan had to work hard not to look at Alaric. He was afraid that if he did, he would give everything away.

Instead, he took another sip of wine, buying himself some time to calm the racing of his heart.

“I know, and I do apologize for the change of plans,” Ewan said. He was acutely aware of the fact that everyone in the room was looking at him, that silence had settled over the dining hall. “My brother will be arriving back at Calder Castle shortly.”

There was a long pause as Lady Pembury continued to stare at him expectantly.

At last, when he did not speak again, she prompted, “Shortly, Your Grace? The wedding is supposed to be in a week. My husband will be traveling north in just a few days to join us, as will our friends and family.”

Ewan swallowed. He could not hide the truth any longer, he knew. Slowly, he pulled the napkin from his lap and set it on the table, then rose.

“Perhaps you and Lady Cassandra would join me in my study after dinner?”

Lady Pembury and her daughter exchanged a glance, then Lady Pembury nodded, deciding for them both.

After dinner, neither lady spoke as they followed him down the long, high-ceilinged corridor to his study. Candles flickered in their sconces, casting long shadows on the Persian carpet that lined the hallway, cushioning their footsteps from the flagstones underneath.

As he led the way, Ewan was very aware of the portraits on the walls looking down at him, his ancestors’ disapproval potent.

At last, they reached his study, and he escorted them inside.

The study was warm, a fire lit in the grate that filled the room with heat and the acrid smell of peat. Here, there was only a portrait of his father on the wall, and this gave him some comfort as he sat down in the leather wingback chair behind his mahogany desk and gestured for the ladies to sit as well.

Lady Pembury did not wait for him to speak.

“What is this about, Your Grace?” she demanded. “Where is Lord Christopher?”

“He is in Amsterdam,” Ewan said without preamble. It was better, he had always found, to be direct. He could have made up an excuse. He could have lied about his brother’s absence, even invented an illness. But looking into Lady Cassandra’s eyes, he knew he could not.

She deserved the truth.

Deserved to know who she was marrying before the vows had been said and the rings exchanged.

If Christopher was even back in time.

“Amsterdam!” Lady Pembury cried, her hand coming to her mouth. “Heaven forbid! But why?”

“At least, I hope he is in Amsterdam,” Ewan continued gravely. “As far as I know, he set sail for the Continent about three weeks ago with the intention of spending some time abroad before his nuptials.”