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Authors: Highland Spirits
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have put Miss MacCrichton in the room next to that. The dowager Lady Balcardane will have the set of rooms next to hers at the end, and Lord MacCrichton will have the bedchamber across from hers, which faces South Street. I trust these arrangements will suit you.”
“They will suit us very well, Mrs. Peasley,” Mary said. “Thank you.”
Before leaving them, the housekeeper said, “With regard to meals, my lady, it has been our practice at Rothwell House to serve breakfast at ten and dinner at four, with a light supper to follow at nine-thirty or at the mistress’s convenience. Will those times suffice for you, or do you wish to alter them?”
Exchanging a look with Pinkie, Mary said, “It has been our custom to breakfast much earlier than ten, Mrs. Peasley, so perhaps you had better expect at least some of us to do so here, as well, although I daresay we shall quickly adapt to London ways. Tonight, however, I believe we will all want our supper at eight o’clock. I, for one, intend to retire early, although the gentlemen may desire to go out afterward. In any event, they will be hungry soon. It has been a long day.”
“I will see that everything is as you wish, ma’am, and may I say that we are all delighted to welcome you and your family to London.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Peasley. Pinkie—and you, too, Mama Agnes—as soon as you have washed and changed your dresses, please come to my sitting room. We must make some decisions, you know. There is a great deal for us to do.”
In the bedchamber the housekeeper had allotted to her, Pinkie found Ailis, her maidservant of many years, waiting for her. The room, if not as ornately decorated as the others she had seen, was spacious and quite acceptable. As she performed her ablutions and allowed Ailis to help her change from her traveling dress to a dimity frock in her favorite shade of pale green over a hoop not nearly so wide as the housekeeper’s, she decided that London might be a pleasant place, after all. She certainly looked forward to dinner at Rothwell House.
The only cloud casting a shadow over her pleasure was the memory of what Chuff had said to her the day they had walked together from Shian to Dunraven. She could not help but wonder if knowledge of her parentage—of Daft Geordie and Red Mag—would affect Lord and Lady Rothwell’s behavior toward her. Then, recalling that Maggie intended to present her to the queen, and that the Rothwells meant to give a ball in her honor, she grew cheerful again. Surely they must know her history, and if they did not fret about it, who else in London would dare?
CHAPTER FIVE
Castle Mingary
T HE WOODS WERE LUSH , green, and alive with chirping birds and other, shyer creatures that moved like shadows through them. The air around him felt warm, and although the woods were dense and filled with shadows, sunlight streamed through every opening in the canopy overhead, glinting on branches, needles, and leaves. Where rays touched flowers on the forest floor, they brightened their colors, making them look like jewels dropped by some previous visitor.
He felt a sense of hope and expectation, and a stirring in his loins that increased as he progressed, as if it fed both from his expectation and his pleasure in the beautiful woods. He was nearing his destination. He could feel it in every fiber of his body. Weary though he was from his long journey, his step lightened, and when he glanced down, the big dog moving gracefully beside him looked up and wagged its tail. He stroked its head and lengthened his stride.
Emerging from the woods into bright sunlight from a cloudless sky, he saw the castle below at the foot of a heather-clad hill, a castle as unlike his own sprawling pile as a castle could be. The curving, crenellated curtain wall enclosed a five-spired tower house on a point of land that jutted into a sparkling blue loch.
Instinctively—for he had no conscious awareness of the castle’s name or even where he
“They will suit us very well, Mrs. Peasley,” Mary said. “Thank you.”
Before leaving them, the housekeeper said, “With regard to meals, my lady, it has been our practice at Rothwell House to serve breakfast at ten and dinner at four, with a light supper to follow at nine-thirty or at the mistress’s convenience. Will those times suffice for you, or do you wish to alter them?”
Exchanging a look with Pinkie, Mary said, “It has been our custom to breakfast much earlier than ten, Mrs. Peasley, so perhaps you had better expect at least some of us to do so here, as well, although I daresay we shall quickly adapt to London ways. Tonight, however, I believe we will all want our supper at eight o’clock. I, for one, intend to retire early, although the gentlemen may desire to go out afterward. In any event, they will be hungry soon. It has been a long day.”
“I will see that everything is as you wish, ma’am, and may I say that we are all delighted to welcome you and your family to London.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Peasley. Pinkie—and you, too, Mama Agnes—as soon as you have washed and changed your dresses, please come to my sitting room. We must make some decisions, you know. There is a great deal for us to do.”
In the bedchamber the housekeeper had allotted to her, Pinkie found Ailis, her maidservant of many years, waiting for her. The room, if not as ornately decorated as the others she had seen, was spacious and quite acceptable. As she performed her ablutions and allowed Ailis to help her change from her traveling dress to a dimity frock in her favorite shade of pale green over a hoop not nearly so wide as the housekeeper’s, she decided that London might be a pleasant place, after all. She certainly looked forward to dinner at Rothwell House.
The only cloud casting a shadow over her pleasure was the memory of what Chuff had said to her the day they had walked together from Shian to Dunraven. She could not help but wonder if knowledge of her parentage—of Daft Geordie and Red Mag—would affect Lord and Lady Rothwell’s behavior toward her. Then, recalling that Maggie intended to present her to the queen, and that the Rothwells meant to give a ball in her honor, she grew cheerful again. Surely they must know her history, and if they did not fret about it, who else in London would dare?
CHAPTER FIVE
Castle Mingary
T HE WOODS WERE LUSH , green, and alive with chirping birds and other, shyer creatures that moved like shadows through them. The air around him felt warm, and although the woods were dense and filled with shadows, sunlight streamed through every opening in the canopy overhead, glinting on branches, needles, and leaves. Where rays touched flowers on the forest floor, they brightened their colors, making them look like jewels dropped by some previous visitor.
He felt a sense of hope and expectation, and a stirring in his loins that increased as he progressed, as if it fed both from his expectation and his pleasure in the beautiful woods. He was nearing his destination. He could feel it in every fiber of his body. Weary though he was from his long journey, his step lightened, and when he glanced down, the big dog moving gracefully beside him looked up and wagged its tail. He stroked its head and lengthened his stride.
Emerging from the woods into bright sunlight from a cloudless sky, he saw the castle below at the foot of a heather-clad hill, a castle as unlike his own sprawling pile as a castle could be. The curving, crenellated curtain wall enclosed a five-spired tower house on a point of land that jutted into a sparkling blue loch.
Instinctively—for he had no conscious awareness of the castle’s name or even where he
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