Thorn in My Heart (25 page)

Had they chatted about Jamie's future? Had her name even been mentioned?

“Leana, your brow is tied in such a knot it will take a
gavehck
to pry it open.”

“Sorry, Father.” She lifted her gaze from the porridge bowl and touched her forehead as though to smooth it by hand. “I was thinking of the Sabbath sermon.”
There.
That should appease him.

Her father, seated at the head of the table, nodded his approval. “And what was it that you learned, lass?”

“I learned…” Her gaze shifted from Jamie to Rose to Lachlan, each of whom waited with porridge spoon put aside and hands folded. “I learned that any man who will not work…”

“Neither should he eat.” Her father's smile was broad as an axe and twice as lethal. “An excellent message and timely, don't you think?”

Jamie abrupdy returned to his porridge, cold and tasteless as it was. She and Rose followed suit, eating with some haste, while Lachlan took his time buttering his floury bap, making a show of it with his knife in one hand, the yeast roll in the other, covering it with butter as if the entire churn belonged to him. Which, Leana reminded herself, it did.

Jamie cleared his throat. “Uncle, I have made a decision.”

Both sisters nearly dropped their spoons. They glanced furtively at each other, then at Jamie, whose face was a mottled shade of red.

“Ah.” Lachlan held up his buttered bap, as though proposing a toast. “Go on.”

“With your permission I would like to spend a month at Auchengray… working.” Jamie exhaled, obviously relieved.
Work
was a
word not usually spoken by a gentleman. “With the tups in hand, Duncan will be needing help with the ewes.”

“A special talent of yours, I understand.”

“Aye. Stew taught me well.”

“Then your knowledge and experience will be most welcome.” Lachlan sank his teeth into the roll, smearing butter on his nose as he did.

Leana quickly looked down, lest she laugh at her father and ruin everything. Jamie staying a month! Long enough for her to win his affections. Surely if Jamie asked for her hand, Father would put aside Fergus McDougal's offer. Jamie was wealthier by far, young enough to produce many grandsons, and, above all, he was Lachlans nephew. Jamie was also braw and a pleasure to look upon, though that counted only in the smallest degree.

Jamie's jaw was firm with resolution. “Until Martinmas then?”

Lachlan merely nodded, his mouth too busy chewing.

November the ekventh.
The date was already written on her heart. While the two men discussed husbandry matters in tiresome detail, Leana and Rose finished their meal, sharing sidelong glances as they did. Jamie under their roof for an entire month? Who could have imagined so swift an answer to prayer? Since Rose had made it clear she had no interest in marriage, Leana had no fear of hurting her sister. But she had other matters of great concern, Wednesdays dinner with Fergus McDougal among them.

Breakfast concluded and the servants rung for, Jamie excused himself to meet with Duncan. “Ladies,” he said, bowing to them both. “Uncle, I shall see you at dinner, unless you have need of me sooner.” He disappeared into the hall, though Leana could still hear his warm baritone greeting the servants by name. She smiled at the sound of it. A wise fellow, to have made himself at home so quickly.

Sundays thick gray clouds had lingered over eastern Galloway another day, emptying their buckets on land and sea in a torrent of hard, blowing rain. The ill weather suited their chore for the day— polishing silver by the light of the hearth—so the sisters willingly donned the aprons Neda brought them and went about their duties while their father finished the last of his tea.

“Too dreich a day for me
granbairns
to come callin.” The housekeeper sighed heavily, frowning at the window. “I've not seen their wee faces in a month. “ Two of Nedas grown daughters lived with their families south of Dalbeaty, only nine miles away, but far enough in poor weather to keep the bairns safely tucked in their cradles.

“Make good use of the time then,” Lachlan murmured, never looking up from his saucer.

Heads bent over their spoons, the sisters rolled their eyes. Did their father think of nothing but work? The task at hand was not hard, only tedious. A bowl of warm water with a sliver of soap made from bracken ashes, an old cotton cloth, and tireless fingers were all that was needed to polish the family's treasured collection of silver teaspoons, knives, and two-pronged forks. Rubbing each piece to a high sheen, Leana had just finished the last of the tortoiseshell-handled knives when an unexpected knock sounded at the dining room door.

“Enter!” Lachlan barked.

A meek Annabel ventured her linen-capped head around the door. “Letter for you, sir. From Maxwell Park.” At his command she brought it to him, bobbing her head all the while, then darted from the room.

Maxwell Park? Did her sister know of this? Leana glanced at Rose, whose look of astonishment answered her question. She did not know. Or perhaps her sister was thinking of another letter. One that never reached its destination, reduced to ashes in the grate.

Their father shook out the gilt-edged notepaper and held it as far away as his arm would allow, eyes narrowing as he read the letter aloud.

“Not as fruitful as his,” Lachlan muttered, mosdy for his own benefit.

A debut!
Beneath the table, the sisters clasped hands and squeezed them tight.

“A debut?” Lachlan practically spat the word onto his plate. “And whose pockets will be emptied for such a
spendrifoccasion!”

“How generous,” Leana murmured, genuinely delighted for her sister. “Only the Almighty could bestow such a blessing.”

“You see, Father?” Roses voice floated through the air on a whisper of hope. “ ‘Twill cost our family neither penny nor pound.”

“Eager, is she?” Lachlan smacked the paper with the back of his hand, grinding his teeth as he read the last line.

Lachlan's voice did not float through the air like his daughter's. It sliced like a dagger, aimed straight at Rose's heart. “How long have you known about this?”

Leana gripped her sisters hand more tighdy. If Rose knew, she'd never breadied a word of it to her.

“I knew…nothing.” It was all Rose could squeeze out, but it was enough to send their father's fist crashing onto the table with an awfiil bang.

“A likely tale! Nearly a week since your visit to Maxwell Park, and you've said nary a word to me.”

Roses eyes filled with tears. “Father, Lady Maxwell never mentioned this…this debut to me. Not the slightest hint.”

“
Och.
I see the way of it.
She
did not mention it, but perhaps
you
mentioned it to her.”

He stared at the hearth as though he could not bear to look at her, his chin jutting out like the prow of a ship bound for a dark harbor. “My proud daughter makes plans with the gentry, certain her poor, lowly father will agree to them.”

“Nae!” Rose shrank back in her chair. Leana had never seen the girl so frightened. “It was not my idea, Father. Not a bit of it.”

Leana could bear it no longer. “Father,” she said softly, “it is clear that Rose is telling the truth, for this is the first I've heard of it as well. I believe this was Lady Maxwells idea altogether. And a very thoughtful one.”

“Aye, it is that.” Rose sat up a bit straighten “Perhaps we might consider the benefit to our household, Father. A means to provide—”

“Provide?”He
stood so quickly his chair nearly tipped into the peat fire. “That is
my
responsibility, daughter. To provide food and shelter for my household and suitors for my daughters. I hardly need assistance with such important matters, do I? Not from either one of you,” he added, glaring at Leana as well.

“Nae, Father,” they responded in unison, sounding like chastised schoolgirls.

Rose hung on to Leana's hand for dear life. “Will you…receive Lord Maxwell on Thursday?”

“And waste his lordships time? Indeed I will not. A letter will be sent to Maxwell Park at once.”

“Nae, Father!” Rose stood, shaking all over. Fear or rage, Leana
knew not which. She could only pray for her sister, who'd been offered a great kindness just to have it torn away from her an instant later.

“You dare to stand up to me?” Lachlan roughly shoved his chair aside.

“I stand up…for…myself.” Rose choked on her words while Leana fought tears, knowing what it cost her sister to say such things. “If my…my disappointment means nothing to you, Father, then think of the…the disgrace this will bring to Auchengray.” Rose sniffed, dabbing at her nose with her sleeve. “Think of how it will hurt my…future.”

“Your
future
is precisely what I am thinking about!” he roared. Leana sensed he had much more to say, but he bit off his words instead, clenching his teeth like an angry man biting on a pipe. “ ‘Tis not the mans offer that most disturbs me, Daughter. ‘Tis thinking you kept it from me; that's the rub. There are to be no saicrets in this household. Understood?”

“It is no secret that you do not love me, Father.” Rose bravely stood her ground. Though she spoke more evenly, her voice was low, and her heart was clearly broken. “And you do not care what becomes of me.” Rose fled from the room, leaving Leana and her father in a room still as death.

Muttering to himself, Lachlan crumpled the letter in his hand and tossed it neady into the grate. The paper smoldered and sparked, the gilt edges becoming black, then turning to ashes as he strode from the room without another word to Leana, heading for the spence and his writing desk.

Leana sat in stunned silence, watching the paper burn, thinking of Saturdays letter among the ashes as well. Eliza tiptoed into the room to collect the polished silver, with Neda right behind her, a look of concern etched on her freckled features. “Lass, is there anythin’ I can do for ye? Or for Miss Rose?”

“Something is wrong, Neda.” Leana gazed at the closed spence door. “Father should be dancing a jig at Lord Maxwell's offer. It might have meant a wealthy husband for Rose and silver for his thrifite.”

Neda hung her head with a weary shake. “I gave up sortin oot your sire's thoughts a lang time ago.”

“You're a wise one, Neda.” Leana pursed her lips, absently rubbing her diumb on die tines of a dinner fork. Somediing was afoot, of diat she was certain. For a household meant to have no secrets, Auchengray had more than its stone walls could hold.

Some friendships are made by nature, some by contract,
some by interest, and some by souls.

J
EREMY
T
AYLOR

A
month of hard labor.

Jamie was amazed he'd agreed—no,
offered
—to endure such humiliation. Still, sending a letter to Glentrool and begging for a promissory note had even less appeal. If working like a commoner meant enjoying his uncles hospitality without guilt or obligation, it would be worth the cuts and bruises, the sweat and toil of sheep farming. Besides, he'd poured enough knowledge into his head. The time had come to use his hands.

His woolen bonnet kept the worst of the rain off his head, but the rest of him was soon drenched to the skin as he strode toward the steading that stood at the center of Auchengray. Let Lachlan have his fine house. The farm buildings were Duncan Hastings's domain, and a fine place of business it was. Jamie passed the
doocot
filled with cooing doves, then a henhouse where Eliza gathered eggs before breakfast. Next came the granary and the barn, then a stable for the horses and a byre for the cows, efficiendy milked hours earlier by a dairymaid whose name he had yet to learn. At the end of the U-shaped steading stood lodging for the laborers who came and went by season—crowded bothies, poorly furnished. The workers built their fires on dirt floors and ignored the pungent smell of the dunghill seeping around the hinges of the four-paned window.

Duncan had his quarters with Neda on the third floor of the house, though Jamie suspected the man spent litde time there. Hastings was overseer to the flocks and fields but also to the family. His workday was endless. The forenoon hour meant the man was long done with his
morning rounds of guiding die sheep up to die hilltops and looking for those that were lame or sick. Jamie would find him with the tups, no doubt, seeing that they were well fed and rested, ready for the work ahead. For it
was
work—thirty ewes for each ram, sixty days of breeding. Work for the shepherd, too, keeping the tups from injuring one another with all their fighting and head butting. Jamie headed for the separate paddock, hoping Duncan would take him on for a month and teach him the Auchengray way of doing things.

Despite the rain, Jamie enjoyed striding across the pastures, feeling his muscles stretch and his limbs grow loose. His strenuous journey east had taught him the value of breathing fresh air, of braving the elements and surviving whatever man or nature threw across his path. He was not the same Jamie McKie who'd quit Glentrool—a man on the run, full of fear and shame. His fears were all but banished. Now he must, rid himself of the shame of his deceptions by giving to others instead of taking, working hard instead of hiding behind the clothes of a gentleman.