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The sorry specimen huffed out a derisive snort.
“And this is our grandfather, Mr. Angus MacDonald,” Graeme’s brother added.
Sabrina dipped a shallow curtsy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, gentlemen. I’m Lady—”
“Lady Sabrina Bell, daughter of Lord Musgrave,” Graeme said. “A lady who should be in London, not standing on a dock in Leith with chickens and crates and trunks, some of which are obviously hers. That would explain why there’s so much baggage.”
“Good God,” Royal muttered.
Sabrina refused to rise to Graeme’s bait. Irritating him more than she already had was not part of the plan.
Not that she truly knew what her plan was when it came to Graeme Kendrick. She only knew she’d wanted to see him again, and with a determination that had surprised her.
“Most of the baggage belongs to His Majesty,” she explained. “At the king’s recommendation, I traveled with his household entourage to help organize the domestic details of his visit.”
Graeme took his hat off and rubbed his head. The breeze gusting off the loch blew his hair straight up, and a sudden ray of sunlight caught the red, making his tumbled curls glow like flame. It was appropriate, since he appeared ready to spontaneously combust with frustration.
“Sabrina, whatareyou really doing here?” he demanded.
She should have been outraged at the informal use of her name, but instead it sent a glow to lodge right behind her breastbone. While supremely annoyed with her, at least he wasn’t indifferent.
“As I explained, I’m part of the king’s retinue. His Majesty wished for my father to attend him, but Father’s indifferent health made that impossible.”
“So ye came instead? How did ye manage to pull that off? Yer blasted da barely lets ye out of his sight.”
Graeme was getting upset again. Still, it was best not to give an inch or he’d take a country mile.
“His Majesty was delighted when I volunteered to come instead. Father was, naturally, happy to please the king.”
Actually, Father had descended into rather impressive hysterics. Sabrina, however, had managed to calm him down and then convince her royal godfather that she wasdyingto visit Scotland and would do her best to be of assistance to him.
She’d found unexpected allies in Vivien and Aden St. George. Vivien, in particular, had thought it a good idea for her to leave town, given the lingering gossip about Sabrina and Lord Cringlewood. A respite from thetonwould allow that ugly chatter to die down.
“That reminds me.” She dove back into her reticule. “I have a note for you from St. George.”
Graeme frowned. “Why wouldn’t he just send an express if he wanted to write me?”
“St. George always has his reasons,” Royal said in a dry tone.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Graeme muttered as he broke the note’s seal.
Sabrina waited patiently while he scanned the missive. His grandfather stood on his toes to read over his grandson’s broad shoulder.
“Give over, Grandda,” Graeme said, exasperated.
“What does it say?” Mr. MacDonald asked. “More spy business, I reckon?”
Clearly, Graeme wasn’t the only blunt member of the family.
“No, and I’ll thank you to keep your voice down,” he growled.
“Nae one can hear us over all this commotion, laddie. If it’s not spy business, then what is it?”
As Graeme muttered a few choice words, Royal covered his mouth, clearly trying not to laugh.
When Graeme finished reading, he slipped the note into his pocket. “Aden wants to remove Lady Sabrina from the king’s entourage, and in with us at Heriot Row.”
Sabrina almost dropped her reticule. “That cannot be correct. I’m to stay with the king, at Dalkeith Palace.”
