AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I am, indeed,” Rem returned tightly.
The coachman doffed his hat. “I’m here to take ye and Lady Isadora to the Palace.”
Rem inclined his head stiffly, but Isadora stepped forward and said politely, “That would be lovely. Thank you very much.”
After they had settled into a coach that seemed quite luxurious after riding in the poorly sprung mail carriage, Rem leaned his head back with a heavy sigh. “I nearly forgot what comfortable travel feels like.”
“It is quite nice, I agree.” There was a brief pause. “I know you’re anxious about this upcoming reunion, but just take a deep breath and remember to keep an open mind when you meet your father’s relations, because at the end of the day, that’s what they are.”
He lifted his head and peered at her. “Is it so obvious that I’m apprehensive?”
She smiled. “Just to me, perhaps. But then, I’ve been traveling with you for the past two days. You start to become familiar with a person’s habits whether they are good or bad.”
“Is that so?” He lifted an inquiring brow. “And what have you discovered about me? Other than my nervous disposition, of course.”
“Well.” Her lips twitched. “You do have a terrible penchant for snoring rather loudly.”
He laughed. “I knew there was a reason I asked you along on this journey, my lady. You quite help me to forget why we’re in Scotland at all.”
She was quiet for a time, and then she admitted, “I feel very much the same.”
“In that case, perhaps we should embark on more adventures together,” he dared to say.
She smiled slightly. “Perhaps.”
Isadora had garneredlittle information from her companion, so she wasn’t quite sure what to expect as they traveled up the long, tree-lined driveway. But as the carriage stopped before the massive, three-story, sandstone estate with Corinthian pilasters flanking the entrance, she was quite impressed. The expansive, green manicured lawn with its large garden in front was equally enthralling. “Oh, my,” she breathed. “Is your great-grandfather a Scottish clan leader per chance?”
“Not quite,” the marquess said dryly, as a footman appeared to open the door for them. “From what I’m given to understand, his situation is particularly dire. He has to rely on the charity of his great-nephew, the Duke of Buccleuch, who is currently at school in London.” He offered her his arm as they made their way to the front door.
It opened to reveal a somber butler with gray hair slicked back from his forehead. “Welcome, Lord Osgood,” he intoned in a proper, Scottish accent. “Lady Grace is awaitin’ ye in th’ front parlor.”
Since the marquess had yet to utter a word, Isadora stepped forward and replied graciously, “Thank you.”
The servant inclined his head and started to move forward. They took the initiative to follow. Isadora glanced up as they passed a massive, great staircase in the front hall and rooms with large fireplaces and numerous paintings on the walls. To Isadora, it seemed very similar in design to Marlington Hall. It certainly held the grandeur of history, but there was something lacking,something almost… melancholy. However, she kept her thoughts to herself as they entered a large receiving room with interior seating in the middle. It was elegant and still like the rest of the manor, the only thing breaking the silence was a case clock in a corner that counted the seconds with precision time.
A woman with faded russet hair and a calm demeanor sat with a teacup in hand, but when the butler announced their arrival, she set it down and rose to her feet with a tentative smile. She had lines of time upon her face that barely hinted at the beauty she must have been in her youth. Her hands were slightly gnarled and she walked with a cane as she stepped toward her great-nephew.
She looked upon his face for a moment, and then Isadora saw the evidence of moisture pool in her blue gaze. “Ye look just like yer grandmother, my dearly departed sister, Mary.” She chuckled lightly; her Scottish accent heavily pronounced. “Although I suppose there are some noted differences because o’ yer sex.” She inclined her head. “I’m Lady Grace Scott, the known spinster o’ the family. It’s lovely t’ meet ye at last, Lord Osgood.”
“The pleasure is mine,” he returned smoothly, years of good breeding and comportment making him cordial, even if Isadora could see the tense lines bracketing his mouth.
The lady’s gaze shifted to Isadora. “Ye must be Lady Isadora Bevelstroke.”
Isadora dipped into a light curtsy. “I am. It’s lovely to meet you.”
The lady’s gaze twinkled. “Charmed.” She waved a hand and indicated the table that she’d just risen from. “Shall we have some tea? No doubt ye’re parched after such a long journey.” She paused and looked to the marquess. “Unless ye’re wanting to see yer grandfather—”
He waved a hand. “Some tea would be welcome. Perhaps once we’re finished, I might… pay my respects.”
Her gaze turned solemn. “Very well.” She sighed heavily as shesat back down and set aside her cane. “I fear my father rests most of the time at this late stage of his life. But I understand if ye’re reluctant to see him just yet. Ye’ve just arrived. It would be best if ye settle in first.”
“Thank you, my lady,” he murmured.
A footman entered the room with some light refreshment. He held out the chair for Isadora, and then he disappeared as quickly as he’d arrived.
“The servants are very efficient,” Isadora noted, as she helped herself to one of the scones.
“They are,” Lady Scott returned. She didn’t take any refreshment but put her hand around her cup. It was almost as if it was a comforting motion to do so. “We are very fortunate to have a relation that takes such kind consideration for our welfare.”
