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Chapter Six
After changing forsupper, Attie made her way down the grand staircase—alone—and slipped into the parlor where the rest of the family had already gathered.
Where was Devon?
Fraser and Delilah drifted round the room, ensuring their guests were content. Dorothea and Griffin sat on a small two-seater settee in the corner, a little distance away from the rest, deep in conversation. Though they tried to conceal it, their love was obvious—their whole bodies vibrated with it. Dorothea’s hair was a little mussed—her face flushed—and she bore the smile of a well-satisfied woman. No doubt they’d indulged in a little illicit lovemaking on the way to supper tonight—most likely against the oak-paneled walls of Glendarron Castle, from what Thea had once said about her husband’s voracious appetite.
Attie smiled. Though she’d lost the intimacy with her own husband, she could not envy her sister-in-law her marital bliss. Thea had all but given up hope of a happy marriage until she had—literally—fallen into the arms of the prizefighter who, beneath the brutish appearance, had one of the kindest hearts in the land.
In the center of the room, Griffin’s daughter, Rowena, sat on the rug with the children. Flora and Campbell played together, and Attie’s own son, Sebastian, sat cross-legged beside his older cousin, looking up at her with adoration in his eyes. Though Sebastian was tired, he’d insisted on staying up for supper rather than being put to bed with the younger children, and Attie indulged him. Most likely, he was worried about his father—as was she.
Rowena rose to her feet and crossed the room, arms outstretched.
“Are you all right, Aunt Attie?”
“Of course,” Attie said.
Rowena squeezed her hand.
“He’ll be all right,” she said. “Mama Thea always says that Devon is the strongest of the family because he’s endured more than anyone. He won’t let something as trivial as a mountain defeat him.”
“Attie, my dear!” Delilah cried. “Come and have a drink. A little wine, perhaps?”
Before Attie could respond, the door burst open, and her husband entered the room, hair wet, face red with exertion, his shoulders dusted with snow, an astonished-looking footman in his wake.
“Devon!” Attie cried. “Where have you been?”
He opened his mouth to respond, then glanced round the room, his gaze settling on their son, who sat staring at him, wide-eyed, his body trembling. Sebastian’s sensitive little mouth creased into a frown, the precursor to a fit of tears.
Then he peeled off his jacket and handed it to the footman with a smile, as if he’d been out for an afternoon stroll, and held out his arms to Sebastian with a broad grin.
“I’ve been haggis hunting,” he said. “What do you think of that?” He lifted Sebastian into his arms. “Shouldn’t you be in bed, young sir?”
“He would have been, had you not disappeared as soon as we arrived here,” Attie said, flinching at the irritation in her voice, which she’d tried to conceal. A flicker of hurt crossed Devon’s eyes, and he looked away.
Fraser approached them, his merry, open countenance a stark contrast to her husband’s dark expression. “Young Sebastian’s growing up,” he said, “and Campbell wanted to sit next to his cousin at supper—isn’t that right, Cam?”
Fraser placed a calming hand on Attie’s shoulder. Devon glanced at it, and his frown deepened.
“Come along, everyone!” Delilah said, her voice overly bright. “If we linger here, supper will grow cold, and Mrs. McLeish will never forgive us.” She slipped an arm through Devon’s and pulled him toward the dining room. “You can regale us with your tales while we eat, Dev,” she said. “Thea and I are determined to have you to ourselves. Dear Attie writes to us all the time, but you’re such a poor correspondent—never replying to our letters—and we insist you make reparation for your crimes tonight.”
Some of the tension left Devon’s body, and he let his sister lead him into the dining room.
“I fear you must enduremycompany tonight, Atalanta,” Fraser said, offering Attie his arm. Then he lowered his voice. “If anyone can knock some sense into your husband, my Lilah can. Flanked either side by two Hart sisters is a formidable dinner experience for even the most stubborn soul.”
“Does the whole family gossip about my husband’s state of mind?” Attie asked, unable to conceal the bitterness in her voice.
He squeezed her hand. “His sisters mean well,” he said. “Trust them. One thing I’ve learned about the Harts is that while they may sometimes bicker with each other—they’re united by an unbreakable bond. They’re fiercely loyal to their loved ones—among whom we are privileged to be counted—and they’ll fight to their last breath to take care of each other.”
*
The soup coursefinished, Delilah nodded to the footmen who cleared away the bowls. Sebastian’s napkin had worked loose and Rowena, who Sebastian had insisted sit beside him at supper, tucked it back into his collar.
“Did you not like your soup, Sebastian?”
“I’m full.”
“Perhaps you ate too many of Ms. McLeish’s bannocks this afternoon?” Attie suggested.
