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“I missed all of you too, Uncle. And I have to admit it’s lovely to be home. Everyone’s been pampering me to a disgraceful degree. If I’m not careful, I’ll grow very spoiled and never want to leave.”
“You’ll not be leaving anytime soon, young miss, and that’s an end to it.”
“But—”
“And you’ll not be saying anything about the Murrays beyond what I’ve told you to say. Are we clear on that?”
There was no point arguing with him. “Yes, sir.”
“I’ve already written to Mungo and instructed my lawyers to pay him a little visit. We’ll not be having any more troubles on that score.”
Instinct told her such would not be the case. In any event, she intended to be gone from Blairgal Castle sooner rather than later. Once she reentered the convent—any convent—Mungo and Roddy would cease to be a problem.
He extracted his watch and scowled at it. “Where is everyone? We have a great deal to talk about, and I have no intention of holding up dinner.”
Donella rose. “Do you want me to ring for a footman to fetch them?”
“No need,” said Uncle Walter as he stepped down from the spiral staircase at the end of the hall. “I’m here, and Edie and Alec are right behind.”
With his spectacles and slightly stoop-shouldered physique, Walter looked exactly what he was—a scholar. He was also the kindest man Donella had ever met. He was Alasdair’s father—stepfather, in truth, although that was another of the family’s deep secrets. When she was young, Alasdair’s mother had engaged in a brief, adulterous affair with the Duke of Kent, one of the king’s sons, and Alasdair had been the unexpected result of that liaison. Walter had selflessly accepted the blame for not protecting his young wife from the rakish prince. And he’d accepted the babe as his own son, raising him with love and devotion after the death of his wife.
Alasdair, in turn, had always insisted that Walter was his true father and was equally devoted to him.
Her family was really quite wonderful. They stuck together through thick and thin, even when Donella’s deranged mother had tried to murder Alasdair—certainly a low point in the Haddon family history.
Uncle Walter bent down to kiss Donella’s cheek. “How are you, my dear? Are you feeling quite up to this? You look rather flushed to me.”
She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. “I’m fine. It’s just blazing hot in here.”
“It seems quite chilly to me,” Walter said. “I wonder if we should move to the library. It’s much cozier in there.”
“Give it up, Father,” Alasdair said in a humorous tone. “It’s a family meeting, so it’s the great hall. And that means we have to huddle around the fire and roast ourselves like capons or sit a few feet away and freeze to death.”
“We’re Scots, lad,” barked Uncle Riddick. “Not a bunch of namby-pambySassenachswho can’t take a bit of the cold.”
“This particularSassenachnever gets cold,” Eden said in a cheerful tone as she joined them. “I love winter in the Highlands. It’s invigorating.”
“Well,thisparticular Englishwoman finds nothing invigorating about Scottish winters,” said Lady Reese, who’d followed her daughter into the room. “How anyone can prefer a dreary winter in the Trossachs to the healthy English climate is beyond me.”
“Aye, and after one season in London, a body will cough up its lungs onto the floor,” Uncle Riddick dourly replied.
“What an unpleasant image,” Walter commented. “Alec, why don’t you fetch your mother-in-law a chair so she can sit near the fire, too.”
Lady Reese gave Walter a gracious smile. “You are always so kind, dear sir, worrying about everyone else’s welfare. Unlike some other people I could mention.”
Uncle Riddick let out a derisive snort.
Lord Riddick and Lady Reese, once mortal enemies, had actually grown quite fond of each other once Alasdair and Eden were married and various members of the family stopped trying to murder each other. They were often found in Lord Riddick’s library, drinking whisky while arguing the merits of English versus Scottish culture. Poor Walter was often forced to play referee.
Donella rose. “Sit here, my lady. It’s a bit warm for me.”
“You are looking flushed,” Lady Reese said with a frown. “I do hope you’re not falling sick again. Perhaps we should call for the doctor.”
Donella briefly contemplated screaming and running from the room.
“I agree,” Walter said. “One cannot be too careful.”
Her ladyship shook her head. “How the poor girl survived that godforsaken convent is beyond me. It’s a miracle she didn’t expire from some sort of dreadful contagion.”
