Page 18 of Return to Wildsyde

He considered this and then shrugged. “I cannae say. He’s fair, is Da, though he will take some convincing ye are nae here intending to get yer feet under the table.”

“My feet are under the table, are they not?” Luella replied, her tone dry.

“Aye, but we’ll nae hold that against ye. Not yet, anyway,” he added with another of those swift smiles of his as he reached for the plate of herring fried in oatmeal.

“Oh, I assure you, your brother is holding it against us.”

“Well, ye cannae blame him,” he said softly.

Luella shook her head. “I don’t. Not in the least.”

He gave her an approving glance before returning his attention to his plate. “Lyall is nae one for flapping his gums. Keeps himself close, ye ken, and now everyone for miles around knows his business and is talking about him. Stings, that, aye?”

Luella nodded. “Lilith was always cruel, even as a child.”

“Did ye know her well?”

“No, happily. We were the poor relations. The only time we had contact with them was when my father was desperate. Then they enjoyed lording it over us and acting like the great benefactors. They made us pay for their beneficence dearly, I assure you. Usually by involving my father in some dreadful scheme where he took all the risk.”

“Not you, though?” he asked, pausing with a forkful of herring suspended in midair.

His sharp eyes missed little, she suspected.

“They tried,” she admitted. “But I wouldn’t play their games. Nor my father’s.” Luella put up her chin, meeting his searching gaze with a frank one of her own.

“Good for ye,” he replied with a nod, though she was uncertain if he was commending her for standing up to her father and family or simply for holding his gaze.

“Well, I ought to be getting down to the kitchen,” Luella said, folding her napkin and putting it neatly on the table. “Mrs Baillie is making Cullen Skink today and I want to learn how.”

“Ach, she’s nae, is she?” Hamilton said, pulling a face.

“Surely you must enjoy fish? I understand it is a staple in these parts,” she asked with amusement, regarding the oat-fried herring he was devouring.

“Aye, and Lyall insists we support the locals by eating herring several times a week, and that’s as it should be. Haddock is well enough too, I suppose, but I’d just as soon have a nice steak. Ye can have too much of a good thing, ye ken?”

Luella bit back a smile but nodded. “Then you had best fill up on breakfast,” she replied, before turning to Jack. “You’re going back to the stables, then?”

“Yes, Lulu.”

“Then come to the kitchens when you get hungry. Be good. A good day to you Mr And—I beg your pardon, Hamilton.”

“And to ye,” he replied, and she felt his gaze follow her out of the room.

Luella heard laughter as she reached the kitchens and paused outside the door, listening.

“Lyall is nae more stubborn than Morven,” Mrs Baillie replied. “Yer husband, ye may recall, was none too friendly when ye arrived here and ye were his new bride.”

“Neither were you,” Lady Morven said with a laugh.

“Ach, I know it. There’s nae need to make me feel bad.”

“Oh, as if I would,” the countess said. “You have been a dear friend to me, and well you know it. If I didn’t worry over Lyall so much, I would have taken you with me when we left.”

“Well, that’s good of ye to say so, though I wouldna go. My friends and family are here.”

“And Mr Murray?” Lady Morven asked with some emphasis upon the name.

Luella cracked the door open and saw the countess lift an enquiring eyebrow. Mrs Baillie went a little pink and turned her back, fussing over a pot on the cooker.