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Mrs. Mackenzie ushered them into the seating area beside the fire. “I’ve instructed my cook to prepare a basket for your father. Is he feeling any better?”
William recalled the way he’d left Father at the door, the man walking toward the church while he and Roger left for Camden Court. He was well enough if he could check on their hidden stores in the church.
Roger rescued him from being forced to devise a lie. “He’ll be grateful for whatever you send, ma’am.”
Mrs. Mackenzie smiled kindly. “I hope you don’t mind that we dine rather informally here. I’ve not been one to concern myself too greatly with even numbers.”
William liked her for it. He’d watched his mother try to fit in with the gentry in Dorset and anxiously analyze herself. Everything fell under scrutiny from what she wore to what she served to how she spoke. Father wanted acceptance, and Mother wanted to make Father happy. Perhaps that was part of why William had felt so drawn to Pippa from the beginning—she was a woman who knew her own mind.
“We don’t mind in the least,” William said to put Mrs. Mackenzie at ease.
Mrs. Mackenzie crossed to the window and took Liam from Pippa’s arms, saying something softly to her sister. Pippa’s head turned and he got a glimpse of her face for the first time since arriving, and she did not look pleased. She appeared to be arguing with her sister as her arms were folded across her chest, the position of a defensive woman.
Oh, no. What happened? She’d been perfectly amiable in the churchyard earlier. She crossed the room behind her sister, and all the while avoided meeting William’s gaze. Mrs. Mackenzie handed her babe off to a stout maid, who also ushered the other children from the room.
Mac slid his arm around his wife’s waist. “Shall we head in to dinner?”
A loud knock at the front door drew the attention from everyone in the room. Pippa turned and looked out the window again, her brow puzzled. The moment it cleared, she looked to William sharply, and he was arrested by the magnitude of her direct gaze. He wanted to get her alone so he could ask what was bothering her.
Pippa dragged her gaze toward her brother-in-law. “It’s Mr. Ainsworth.”
Mac looked confused. “Mae, did you invite him to dine with us?”
“No, though I suppose it wouldn’t be impossible to set another place. Shall I go speak to Cook?”
Mac shot an apologetic look at William and Roger. “That might be wise. Let us wait and see what he is here for, first.”
The same servant who’d let William in earlier opened the drawing room door and presented Ainsworth.
“Forgive my intrusion,” Ainsworth said, his greasy smile the very opposite of contrite. “I did not intend to interrupt your evening.”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Mackenzie said politely. “When I mentioned at church today that you are welcome to come by any time, I meant it.”
“We are about to sit to dinner,” Mac said. “Would you care to join us?”
“Oh, I could never impose. There is a perfectly adequate meal awaiting me at the White Swan Inn, I’m sure.” He did not move as though he meant to leave, however, and after a few moments, Mrs. Mackenzie stepped forward, her hands clasped softly before her.
“I insist you stay and join us,” she said. “If you would like to sit, Mr. Ainsworth, I must go attend to a few things, but I will return shortly.”
She was undoubtedly going to tell her servants to prepare an additional setting at the table.
Mac indicated a seat on the sofa and Ainsworth took it, smugly passing William and Roger as though he had been the invited guest and they the interlopers. “You mentioned earlier that you are here on business, correct?” Mac asked.
“Indeed.” Ainsworth looked at William and then Roger. “I have come to settle a debt.”
“Oh, how unpleasant,” Pippa said. She crossed the room and took the seat beside Mac. “I would think that quite odious.”
“It must needs be done. Though the task is difficult, I am a patient man.”
A patient man. He had a plan, then. William did his best to look at ease, to hide the turmoil this fed into his body.
“Will you remain in Collacott for long, then?” Mac asked.
“As long as I need to,” Ainsworth said with a rodent-like smile. His angular chin and nose were reminiscent of a rat, and William wanted to swipe the satisfied look from his face. The man was the worst sort of rudeness.
Mrs. Mackenzie returned and indicated they could move into the dining room. Pippa fell back to the last, and William attempted to walk beside her, but she angled her face away from him.
“Pippa—”
