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Her friend crinkled her nose.
Royal glanced over his shoulder. “Sorry, ladies. There doesn’t seem to be—”
A creaking of hinges cut him off, and the massive oak door swung open. An elderly woman stood in the doorway, neatly dressed in a gray gown with a tartan shawl draped over her shoulders and tucked into a belt, from which hung a large set of keys.
“Apologies, sir. I was in the back of the house.” She looked past him, and her eyes widened. “Are ye my Lady Sabrina’s party?”
“Unless you were expecting another group of interlopers to descend upon you,” Royal wryly said.
When the poor woman eyed him with alarm, Sabrina hurried to the bottom of the steps. “Are you the housekeeper? I am Lady Sabrina.”
The woman gave a stiff curtsy before coming down the steps to greet her. “Aye, my lady. I’m Mrs. Wilson. I’m that sorry, but ye caught us at sixes and sevens.”
“But my father’s business manager sent an express post, informing you of our arrival. I do hope there’s no problem.”
“I only got the missive yesterday, my lady. And we’ve nae had visitors in ever so long, so we’re shorthanded.” She grimaced. “We’re always shorthanded, sad to say. We’ll do our best, but the house is a wee bit rough at the moment.”
“As long as there’s a hot bath and plenty of whisky, I’ll be fine,” Ainsley cheerfully interjected.
Mrs. Wilson’s thin features wrinkled up like a spider’s web. “Ah . . .”
Ainsley sighed. “Please tell us that you at least have the whisky.”
“That we have, and plenty of it,” Mrs. Wilson replied in an oddly morose tone.
“Never mind the baths for now,” Sabrina said. “I presume you have enough rooms to accommodate us.”
“Aye, but they’re not ready, my lady. Many of the rooms have been closed up since the death of yer grandparents. We’ve not had visitors since then.”
Sabrina blinked. That had been over fifteen years ago. No wonder the poor woman was so unprepared.
“We’ll adapt,” she said. “Our servants can help, and Mrs. Kendrick and I will assist you in getting organized and preparing the rooms.”
“Oh, huzzah,” Ainsley sardonically remarked.
Hannah, who’d climbed out of the second coach and was standing next to Ainsley, heaved a dramatic sigh.
“We’ll talk later about how many servants are required,” she said to the housekeeper. “I’m sure we could hire some from Dunlaggan?”
Mrs. Wilson looked cryptic. “Maybe.”
While Sabrina had not expected trumpets and banners, this reception seemed downright bizarre. Something was wrong, and she intended to find out exactly what that something was.
But first they needed to unload and settle in as best they could before dark fell completely.
“Mrs. Wilson, are the stables able to accommodate—”
“I’ve got it sorted,” said Graeme as he strode back into the courtyard.
Scurrying behind him was an eager lad of about twelve, dressed in baggy breeches and a smock. Shuffling in their wake was an elderly fellow in a leather jerkin and boots, calmly puffing a battered clay pipe.
“Mr. Wilson, there ye be,” the housekeeper said with relief. “Her ladyship has arrived.”
“I’ve got eyes to see, wife. Not to mention yon fella there.” He jabbed his pipe in Graeme’s direction. “He’s been barkin’ orders since he showed up.”
“They only received our express yesterday,” Sabrina said to Graeme. “It’s not their fault.”
“Believe me, those stables won’t be ready for days,” he replied in a grim tone. He looked to Bobby. “Can you help Mr. Wilson and . . .”
