Page 17 of Return to Wildsyde

“They’ve every right,” Luella said, her tone soothing. “Lilith and her parents behaved very badly, Jack, can you not see that?”

“Yes,” Jack said grudgingly. “But you aren’t Lilith.”

“And they don’t know that. Our father was well known for being a crook, you know how we lived, the things he would have had us doing if I hadn’t put my foot down.”

“I suppose,” he grumbled.

“Good morning.”

They both looked round in surprise and Luella blinked, momentarily disorientated by the vision of a smiling Lord Buchanan. It only took a moment to realise it was not him, though there was a strong resemblance: the same uncompromising jaw, height and broad shoulders, the same colouring. Though she was still reminded of lions with that tawny colouring, this one appeared friendly, at least. She doubted his lordship had ever smiled so broadly in his life. This man wore the family tartan, and his hair was a tangled mess, adding to the leonine aspect. He strode in, bringing the scent of the outdoors with him, and the room suddenly felt a good deal smaller.

“Good morning,” Luella said, setting down her knife and fork.

“Ach, don’t let me stop ye, dig in. Mrs Baillie’s breakfasts are the things dreams are made of, are they nae, laddie?” he said, grinning at Jack.

“They’re the best thing I ever ate,” Jack admitted, giving the man a considering glance.

“I’m Hamiliton Anderson, by the way. The youngest and most handsome son,” he added with a wink at Luella.

Luella’s eyebrows went up at this, for she had expected no one to be so unreserved with them. He sat down at the table and piled his plate high with an improbable amount of food. Catching sight of Luella’s astonished gaze, he looked down at his plate and back at her.

“I’ve been staying with friends and they dinnae know how to feed a growing boy,” he said a little defensively.

“Boy?” she repeated with a choked laugh.

He speared a piece of black pudding with his fork and stuffed it in his mouth. “Aye,” he said, chewing with a sigh of pleasure. “I’m naught but a wee laddie.”

“How old are you?” Jack asked curiously.

“Six and twenty. How old are ye?”

“Twelve.”

“About the same, then,” he replied, deadpan.

Luella snorted, and he returned an appreciative smile.

“I’m glad to see ye are being fed well. I feared Lyall may have put ye in the cellar and kept ye on rations.”

Though he was charming and easy to talk to, Luella noted the measuring look in his eyes. This man was no fool, despite the happy-go-lucky manner he presented them with.

“Lord Buchanan has been very kind in the circumstances, Mr Anderson,” Luella said carefully.

“Has he? And it’s Hamilton, I can nae be doing with this Mr Anderson stuff. We’re practically family, aye?”

“Not really,” Luella objected. “My father had no right to saddle your brother with our upkeep. I assure you we feel it very keenly.”

“Aye, Ma told me ye have been working in the kitchens. Ye want to feel useful, I suppose. I can understand it. And Master Jack, ye had a riding lesson, I hear.”

Jack nodded.

“Who did Clugston give ye?”

“Adaira.”

“Ach, she’s a great goer. A fine choice, and Clugston is a grand fellow. My da taught me to ride when I was a bairn, but Clugston would be my next choice. ’Tis a pity Da had to leave afore ye got here.”

“Is it?” Luella asked faintly.