Page 62 of Return to Wildsyde

“What is it?” his mother said, looking at him with concern.

“Leo’s had an accident.”

“Oh, no! Is he well? What happened?”

“Well enough, but he’s broken his ankle and bashed himself up a bit,” Lyall said, reading the rest with a frown.

“I suppose he was off on one of his mad escapades,” she said crossly, folding the towel he’d cast carelessly over the back of a chair. “Poor Alice, she’s fretting herself to death over the wicked boy. I have a good mind to give him a piece of my mind. He’s one of the oldest of you and yet he’s the worst behaved.”

Lyall glanced up at her. “He’s the most reckless, aye, but it sounds like this was nae his fault, Ma.”

He didn’t tell her the rest of it: that it had undoubtedly been sabotage. Someone had deliberately sawn through the axle of Leo’s curricle, so an accident was inevitable. According to Larkin, he’d been lucky to come off as lightly as he had. Whoever had made it their mission to make the Sons of Hades pay for some nameless crime, they were intent upon their goal.

“Oh, well, in that case, I am sorry,” his mother relented, her face softening. “I’ll get Sheenagh to make up a basket to send him. Where is he convalescing?”

“At Trevick. Apparently, the accident happened only a few miles away, so it was the closest place to take him to.”

“Well, that’s fortuitous, what with having Aisling close by. Conor made a tremendous recovery when the doctors wanted to take his leg. He says it was all her doing, so Leo is in expert hands.”

“Aye, if Violetta doesn’t kill him before his ankle mends,” Lyall said with a wry smile. He got up and set the letters aside before moving to the looking glass and ensuring he still looked tidy. “Will I do, Ma?”

She moved to stand beside him and took his arm, sighing wistfully as she regarded his reflection. “You are the image of your father. So very handsome. I am proud of you, son, and I like Luella very much. I think you will be happy.”

“Of course we will,” he said firmly. “I will nae allow anything else.”

His mother laughed and shook her head, patting his arm fondly. “That’s my boy.”

Luella dithered in front of the looking glass. Her stomach was roiling, and she thought she might cast up her accounts—or boke, as Lyall would put it—her nerves were jittering so badly. A knock on the door made her leap almost out of her skin. Mrs Cooper tsked and went to open it.

“You’ve ages yet,” she said gently. “It’s probably Lady Morven, come to see if you are ready.”

Mrs Cooper opened the door and started with surprise to discover it was not Lady Morven but the earl himself. She stood back so that Lord Morven could address his son’s bride.

“Miss Fulbright,” he said, smiling warmly at her. “Or may I call ye Luella now, as ye are to be my daughter, aye?”

“I should be very pleased if you would,” Luella said, gathering herself as the shock wore off.

“Excellent. And may I say how bonnie ye look? Lyall is a lucky fellow.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling at the earnest compliment.

“’Tis nothing but the truth, lassie. Well, then Luella—oh, and you must call me Gordy. Everyone does. Or Da, if you prefer. Your choice. I dinnae like ‘Lord Morven;’ reminds me of a fellow I couldnae stand the sight of. Now, I think ye need a wee dram. Just to steady the nerves, aye? Come along, now.”

He held out his arm to her and so Luella hurried out of her room and took it, allowing him to escort her downstairs to the study. She wondered how she would ever dare refer to him as Gordy or Da, but perhaps she would get the hang of it. It was sweet of him to make the offer, though, and she felt a swell of warmth at being treated so kindly.

“Make yerself comfy,” he told her, and he went and poured two ‘wee drams,’ which looked to be hefty measures to Luella’s eye.

She sat down, realising it was the first time she had actually been at ease in this room. Usually, her attention was riveted on Lyall, for one reason or another, and so she had never really paid the room much mind. It was a lovely space, warm and cosy. She could imagine sitting by the fire with a good book on a winter’s day, perhaps with Lyall at the desk, his head bent over some correspondence. The thought made her smile, and she looked around the room, her gaze snagging on a large stag’s head with an impressive rack of antlers. Tied to the antlers were faded pink ribbons.

Gordy returned and handed her a drink, smiling as he noticed the object of her attention.

“I’m glad ye noticed those,” he said conversationally. “For I have a little gift for ye.”

Reaching into his pocket, he took out a small paper bag and handed it to her. Luella peered inside, perplexed to see several glossy ribbons in shocking pink.

“The first time yer new husband makes ye really furious, fetch them and tie them up there next to the others, aye?”

Luella regarded him dubiously. “Whatever for?”