Read Online In Your Wildest Scottish Dreams by Karen Ranney - Free Book Online

poor second to Lucy’s birthplace.
    Glynis found it less irritating to retreat into silence. When you were silent, people couldn’t argue with you. They didn’t know what you thought unless you told them.
    She had no intention of telling the woman she considered her petulant, privileged, and difficult.
    At least the outing had reacquainted her with Glasgow. Her home was vibrant, the city teeming with people, and there were magnificent places such as the Botanic Gardens, Kelvingrove Park, and the St. Vincent Street Church. Built less than ten years ago, the Grecian style church was one of the city’s most famous landmarks.
    While Glynis admired it, Lucy’s only comment was, “I’m not a Presbyterian.”
    Did Mr. Whittaker notice Lucy’s complaints? Or was the woman different around her husband? If she wasn’t mistaken, the dress Lucy wore—a silk stripe ingreen and beige—was expensive. Mr. Whittaker provided well for his wife, but Lucy didn’t say one kind word about the poor man. In a few years Lucy’s youth and beauty would fade, leaving the dregs of her character, in this case a thoroughly dislikable woman.
    Even her mother’s powers of persuasion could not transform Lucy Whittaker into a pleasant person.
    “Perhaps another day we’ll travel north,” Eleanor said. “There’s the remains of Dumbarton Castle. It’s perched on a rock overlooking the Clyde. Or we might go to Bothwell Castle. Either are sights we should visit.”
    “There are many historic places in England,” Lucy said. Her voice quavered. “My papa loved to take trips on Sunday.”
    She was very much afraid the girl was going to weep again. She didn’t know what was worse, the constant denigrating of Scotland or the tears.
    “Tell us about your family,” Eleanor said, a comment causing Glynis to glance at her in disbelief. “I’ve found that talking about sorrow sometimes makes it easier to bear,” her mother continued.
    “I have three brothers and a dear sister, who is as close to me as anyone could be.” Lucy blotted at her eyes with a handkerchief. “And my darling dog,” she said. “Jasper.”
    A woman who liked animals had at least one good character attribute. Perhaps Lucy was simply desperately homesick and not as querulous as she appeared.
    “He’s a King Charles spaniel and the smartest animal in all of England. Or Scotland,” she added.
    For the next thirty minutes they were regaled with Jasper’s antics from his trick of taking treats from between Lucy’s lips to jumping up the steps to the carriage without being prompted.
    “He, too, loved to take trips,” she said, looking as if she might cry again.
    “Perhaps he would have liked a sea voyage,” Glynis said. She ignored her mother’s look for the view from the window.
    “I’m told that I will like America, but I don’t see how I shall.”
    Richard hadn’t liked America, either. He thought democracy made the government weaker than it should be, handing too much autonomy to the masses. Americans were, to his mind, not only ignorant, but excessively violent. She was forced to listen to a similar speech at least once a week.
    She hadn’t found the Americans to be either violent or ignorant. Instead, they were a fascinating group of people with distinct thoughts on liberty and freedom. The Civil War was stripping the soul from the country, and it was being felt on both sides.
    The most common color for women was black, and before she left America each one of her acquaintances had been touched by the death of a soldier in some way.
    But she never bothered to tell Richard her opinion. He wouldn’t have listened. His inability to hear other people or to empathize had been his greatest drawbacks and why he wouldn’t rise to the meteoric heights he envisioned for himself.
    Once, he’d been so filled with images of his own success. “I’ve been told that my future is bright in the diplomatic service,” he said on the day he asked her to marry