Chapter 5
The Scott women and Lady Rosalie were on the dais when Dev and Wat entered the hall. Lady Meg stepped forward to meet them with her usual grace and the big smile that Dev had hoped to see. It altered her plain features amazingly.
“Sir David,” she said, extending her right hand in a natural but nonetheless regal manner, “we welcome you. It has been long since your last visit.”
“ ’Tis my misfortune, madam,” he said, returning her smile. “Meantime, you continue to look well, I am happy to say, and grow ever more beautiful.”
“You are kind, sir, or a scandalous rogue,” she replied with a touch of tartness. “I have never possessed the smallest claim to beauty.”
“Blethers,” he retorted. “You have the most charming smile I have ever seen. I look forward to seeing it whenever I come here and would be sadly disappointed if you failed to reward me with it.”
“Now who is talking blethers?” she demanded, but even her eyes smiled now.
“Not that I dislike compliments from handsome young men, you understand, so you must not stop offering them. But I forget my manners,” she added abruptly.
“I believe you have never met my sister Rosalie, so I shall present you to her as soon as you make your greetings to Molly and Lavinia.”
Turning to Wat’s beautiful tawny-haired wife with an apologetic smile—although he knew that, like everyone else at the Hall except Wat, Molly usually deferred to Lady Meg—Dev greeted her with pleasure and then spoke to Wat’s mother.
Lavinia, dowager Lady Scott, was a fading, fragile beauty who looked nearly as old as Lady Meg despite being two decades younger. After exchanging brief pleasantries with her, he dutifully turned his attention to the lady Rosalie Percy.
He saw little resemblance to Lady Meg in her prettier, more stylishly-garbed sister, although she boasted the same slender, softly rounded figure as Meg’s.
But, although he deduced that Rosalie must be nearing fifty, the abundant hair beneath her simple veil was darker than Meg’s and still lustrous.
Also, despite being a widow and having borne two sons, Rosalie’s twinkling eyes and flirtatious smile revealed a less dignified personality.
Dev suspected that she usually found life more amusing than not.
Wat cut their conversation short by declaring that supper was ready to serve, so Dev hastily greeted his host’s two younger sisters. Fair-haired Janet was a year younger than Robina. Bella was twelve, had dark hair, and was rather pert. Dev liked them both.
Privacy screens separated the dais from the lower hall, where a buzz of low-voiced conversation continued throughout the meal.
Dev sat at his host’s right, and Molly Scott sat next to her husband with the three older ladies next. Janet and Bella sat beyond them.
Menservants had no sooner served everyone and withdrawn than Lady Molly leaned forward and said to Dev across Wat, “I’m told you’ve come from Ormiston, sir. I hope your family is well.”
“They are, my lady,” he replied, leaning forward to see her. “I saw only Father and Fiona, though, and stayed two nights with them.”
“You rode there from Liddesdale, did you not?”
“I had been at Hermitage, aye,” he said, feeling Wat’s steady gaze on him and wondering what else Molly had heard.
Tucking a stray tawny curl back under her veil, she said, “Did you stop at Coklaw on your way, or did you go straight on to Ormiston?”
“I did look in briefly at Coklaw,” he admitted.
“How are Robina and Benjy getting on?” she asked gravely. “I have met them only twice, but I grieve for them both. They must sorely miss Rab.”
Conscious of Wat’s shrewd gaze, Dev said, “They seem to be getting on as well as one might expect, my lady.”
Lady Meg put her head forward to see him past Molly and said, “In my opinion, they should not be there alone, as they are. Do you not agree that Robina would be wiser to remove to Gledstanes and take Benjy with her?”
“Coklaw is their home,” Dev said tactfully. “They have never lived anywhere else. I doubt that we could dislodge either of them if we tried.”
Wat said, “Douglas said he might install one of his own men there, Gram. He fears that Coklaw is vulnerable now, that the Percys might try to besiege it again.”
“Blethers,” his grandmother said. “The Fifth Earl of Douglas is…” Visibly catching herself, she went on in a musing way, “That first siege was no more than a successful ruse to add a few Douglases to Northumberland’s army before he joined the Welsh rebels.
Recall that he held the fourth Earl of Douglas hostage then.
Even so, Northumberland had no hope of tearing Teviotdale from the Douglas grasp just because England’s Henry IV had offered it to him.
No Percy can match the combined Douglas and Scott power.
” To Wat, she said, “Do you want Archie to put his own man in charge at Coklaw, love?”
“You know I do not,” Wat said. “I mean to persuade him to put Dev in charge of Coklaw, instead. He’s exactly the right man for the position, because he knows the castle, the area, and the Gledstanes.”
“Aye, but if Robina stays there, you cannot do that,” Lady Meg said flatly.
“I agree,” Molly said, with a glance at Lady Meg and another at Wat. “Only think how it would look, sir,” she added hastily. Then to Dev, she said, “Truly, Sir David, you would damage Robina’s reputation and your own, as well. You cannot want to do that.”
“Moreover,” Lady Meg said, “Archie cannot be so daft as to put a handsome young knight in charge of Coklaw whilst Robina is unwed. Such a warden must be older, and preferably married, someone who can look after Robina and Benjy properly.”
“I see no such necessity,” Wat said. “Robina merely needs a chaperone.”
“But finding someone suitable would take much time,” Molly said.
Dev looked at Wat just as Wat was exchanging a look with his grandmother. Watching them closely, Dev saw Wat flick his gaze slightly past her.
Lady Meg raised her eyebrows. Then her lips quirked into a half-smile.
“Will it answer, do you think?” Wat asked her lightly.
“You’ll have to ask her.”
“Ask whom?” Rosalie demanded.
Wat smiled and said bluntly, “You, Aunt. Since you expect to be here for several months, would it not amuse you to stay with Robina until we find someone else?”
“It is more a matter, I should think, of whether it would amuse Robina,” she said, cocking her head musingly. “She barely knows me, sir. A year ago last November, when I visited, was the first I’d seen of her or Benjy, because they were born after I left Scotland.”
A lad entered with a fresh jug of wine and moved to refill Wat’s goblet, but Wat stopped him, saying, “Take that into the inner chamber. We’ll be in shortly.”
Dev felt himself tense. Things were moving faster than he’d anticipated.
However, he could too easily imagine, and feel terrified by, an outraged Robina either wrapping a Douglas man around her thumb or driving the poor devil mad.
On the other hand, that same outrage if he took charge at Coklaw stirred only eager, if rather fiendish, anticipation.
Robina ate supper with Benjy in his bedchamber. Having been shocked to find him there earlier—sound asleep, soaking wet, and shivering—she had quickly wakened him.
“We must get these wet things off you,” she said. “Sit up, and I’ll help.”
His face was ashen. Rubbing his eyes, he muttered, “I was tired, Beany. I dinna ken why I’m so tired. Sorting tack, looking for cracks and rot, didna seem like work. But…”
“Right now we need to get you warm. You don’t want to get sick.”
The boy shrugged. “Jem and some other lads ha’ been sneezing and coughing this past sennight. I didna get it from them, so I willna catch it now.”
“Ada is right, Beany. Our laddie needs a keeper.”
Hearing footsteps on the stairs and recognizing them as Corinne’s, Robina ignored Rab and went to the doorway. “Corinne, is someone bringing my hot water?”
“Aye, mistress, I were just a-coming to set the tub in your chamber for ye.”
“We’re going to wash Master Benjy first, so be sure it is not too hot for him. He fell asleep in his wet clothes.”
“Ay-de-mi,” Corinne exclaimed. “I’ll tend to the tub. I told them to hurry.”
Minutes later, Benjy was in the tub, complaining that he did not need two women to wash him. “I can do it myself, Beany. Ye didna help Rab bathe.”
“That you did not!” Rab said, startling her by speaking in such normal tones that she looked from Benjy to Corinne, astonished that neither had heard him.
“What is it, mistress?” Corinne asked, quick as ever to read her expression.
“Naught,” Robina said. “I was just thinking of what Ada said.”
“I told you, lass, nae one else can hear me. But unless you’re willing to keep your door ajar all night, lest he sneak out as you and I used to do, you’d best find someone to share responsibility for his safety.”
“I thought o’ Mistress Greenlaw, too,” Corinne said, fetching a towel. “When she said that about our laddie having some’un o’ his own—”
“What are you two talking about?” Benjy demanded. “You should not ignore what I say to you. Prithee, recall that I am your laird.”
“So you are, my love, and Rab did bathe himself,” Robina said, smoothing his damp hair.
“But Rab was grown, and you are a boy who needs to get warm. So, let Corinne dry you whilst I put fresh bedclothes on your cot. Then we’ll put you to bed, and you may have your supper on a tray. I’ll keep you company if you like.”
“I would, aye,” the boy said. “You can tell me stories whilst we eat.”
She agreed and left him to Corinne’s cheerful care while she sent a housemaid to fetch fresh bedding for his cot.
“He fell asleep right on top of his cot, Daisy,” Robina said when the maid returned with blankets, sheets, and a fresh pillow. “I’ve stripped the wet things off, and his pallet is barely damp. If you’ll help me turn it over…”
Fifteen minutes later, Benjy was in bed—this time, under the covers.
“I’m going to use your water now,” Robina said. “But I’ll be quick.”