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Chapter Eight
“Mine ear is much enamour'd of thy note; So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape; And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me—On the first view to say, to swear, I love thee.”
—Titania, Act 3,A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Brigid prepared for bed in record time.
Convincing the Rathbournes to support her plan over supper had been easy. At the advanced age of five and twenty, they had long since stopped viewing her as a girl. And, too, despite Brigid’s penchant for daydreaming, she’d always exhibited more maturity and good sense than her younger cousins.
Of course, calm, sensible, on-the-shelf old Brigid could get up to no trouble traveling with near-strangers for days on end. Nor had the Rathbournes any expectation that she would find a match during the Season, the first for their own daughters. Brigid was merely a tagger-on.
Why stay, then? She’d always been happiest tucked away in the remote hinterlands anyway. So, Brigid heading back home to Castle Mar at Inverness with her new friends and a foreign prince sounded like just the thing to do.
Brigid had so few friends, the Rathbournes lamented in front of Lord Larkin and Annie, inviting their sympathies. It would do her good to spend more time with them, and given that their ship with goods and servants had yet to arrive, this would be the perfect getaway.
Kill two birds with one stone, and all that.
Brigid, representing the Rathbournes, could show the wealthy foreigners parts of Britain they’d never visited before, while cementing lofty connections in the process. Perhaps Prince Saiyan and Lord Larkin would deign to dance with Elizabeth and Lucille when they came back to Town. After all, there was still so much of the Season to be had.
Naturally, they should stay at Rathbourne Place when they returned. Lady Rathbourne would hear of no other alternative. They were practically family! She would host a ball in their honor; it would be her privilege.
Lord Larkin had quickly agreed. He and Annie had deftly supported Brigid’s lies.
She wondered about those two. They didn’t belong here.
Not just in London, buthere, in this time and place. They seemed almost like guardian angels to Brigid. It couldn’t be mere coincidence that they appeared just when Sai stepped out of her dreams and into her waking life.
And then there was the fact that Lord Larkin didn’t bat an eye at the demons. In fact, instead of running away, he’d charged straight at them like a warrior of old.
Guardian angel, indeed.
None of the Rathbournes found it odd that they wouldn’t be taking any servants with them on the journey. Brigid argued that her distant relatives needed all hands on deck, here in Town, to make their Season a smashing success.
Parties to be hosted. Soirees to be had.
They mustn’t worry on Brigid’s account. She was used to rough living, running wild in the hinterlands of Scotland since she was a wee lass. She didn’t need any help.
Thus, it was settled. The four of them would hitch Sai’s pair of whites to Uncle Charles’ clarence and take two steady thoroughbreds in case the men wanted to ride.
Usually, it took one or two coachmen to drive the vehicle, but Sai had assured Brigid that the unicorns needed no steering. They would go where he directed them.
Besides, taking servants would only put them in danger, if Brigid’s instincts were correct. They convinced the Rathbournes, therefore, that they could handle the carriage themselves.
Lord Larkin insisted that he’d always wanted to try his hand at driving one of those things. Not surprisingly, no one presumed to gainsay him. One could only accept the strange quirks of foreigners.
They would pack light and leave directly after breakfast on the morrow.
After supper, Brigid practically took the stairs two at a time as she all but sprinted to her room, forgoing an hour or two of socializing with the family reading poetry, writing letters or playing cards. Lord Larkin and Annie looked more than able to keep the Rathbournes entertained.
Brigid had more important things to see to.
She took a quick but thorough bath, scrubbing until her skin turned tender pink and squeaky clean. She rubbed her teeth with tooth powder until they shone, and gulped down a lukewarm cup of mint tea. She barely bothered with her bird’s nest hair, for her outward appearance had nothing to do with what she looked like in her dreams.
Perhaps she ought to have saved the time bathing and brushing her teeth as well. But cleanliness after a long day, especially after a dunk in the Thames, helped promote a deep, satisfying sleep.
Then, at last, it was bedtime.
Never had she dove with such eager anticipation under the bedclothes as she did tonight. She always loved a good night’s sleep, but not for the same reasons as most other people.
