Chapter 10 #2
Robbi’s hands fisted at her side. If that wasn’t warning enough, her contemptuous look and clenched jaw spoke volumes. “You mean to tell me that an unmarried young man still in university may visit the nudes, but an unmarried lady of twenty may not?”
“Apparently so,” Caillen added, not certain where she stood on the issue.
At one time, she would have displayed the same level of irritation her sisters were demonstrating.
Presently, she just didn’t care. What was the point?
A woman was rolling the dice when it came to marriage anyway.
What really mattered were the parts of a man which were invisible to the naked eye—and remained hidden in his mind and heart until it was too late.
“Caillen has seen Astley in all his glory,” Robbi said and then added, “although I’m not certain I would use that term when talking about him at the moment. He’s rather puny.”
“Robbi!”
Ailsa giggled and then looked at the scowling Sir Williamson and stopped abruptly.
“I’m not certain my ego is strong enough to endure your sisters this afternoon,” Simon’s response was enshrouded with sarcasm.
“Your ego could stand to be knocked down a few pegs,” Sir Williamson stated as he brushed off the knee of his trousers.
“This coming from a six-and-a-half-foot man whose own ego is larger than him?”
“I happen to be six feet seven inches tall and my ego is proportionately sized,” Sir Williamson stated.
Simon rolled his eyes. “And yet, you were taken down by a mere slip of a girl.”
Ailsa’s chin rose two notches. “I’m no slip. I’m the tallest Blair in the family.”
“Any man would…” Sir Williamson straightened to his impressive height and held his body rigid as he cleared his throat. “…Stumble under the circumstances.”
Robbi snorted. “If that’s a stumble, then my actions on the patio were a minor misstep.”
“Ailsa, I believe the children are listening at the balustrade on the second floor.” Caillen paused so everyone could hear the patter of feet running. She nodded toward the door. “If you please?”
“Of course.” Her sister made a pretty curtsey to Simon. One she hadn’t made since the first day they’d met. Then she left the room without a glance in Sir Williamson’s direction, despite the fact that his eyes followed her until she was out of sight.
Caillen turned toward her youngest sister. “Robbi, I expect you to head straight home. Iseabail will be expecting you.”
“Fine. I will see you tomorrow.” She was gone before she finished the sentence.
Sir Williams’s brow furrowed. “She needs a maid or a chaperone.”
“Robbi? It’s pointless. She will immediately give anyone I send the slip.”
“Even a footman? The termagant will end up in more trouble without an escort.” ?
“Trust me. My brother-in-law has tried. No doubt there is some poor servant running about as we speak, with his livery a sweaty mess and his nerves frayed, as he tries to find the young miss who gave him the slip. Robbi will find him, before he finds her.” She followed her sister to the front door, where she watched her skip down the front steps and disappear down the sidewalk.
“Sir Williamson, if you will go into the drawing room, we will be with you shortly,” she said as she waited for Simon to exit his bedchamber.
“Of course,” he said with a small bow before turning toward the large drawing room at the back of the house. She watched him glance up the staircase at the same time Ailsa stole a glance downstairs in his direction. Their eyes caught, before each pretended not to notice.
It was at that moment, Caillen decided to ensure the two had no further reason to cross paths again. She did not want her sister involved with a man whose business brokered in violence.
“I am going upstairs to have a word with Ailsa and the children. I will have a maid bring in more tea and biscuits. I’m not certain where all the servants have disappeared to,” Caillen said with a puzzled expression on her face as she craned her neck to look down the hallways.
“Thank you. I need to have a moment with Sir Williamson first.” When she started to protest, he raised his hand to silence her. He was surprised when it worked. “I will let you speak to him, but you must understand this man has information we need.”
“You promise to let me speak with him?”
“Yes,” he said gently, infusing the kindness she deserved.
“And ask him anything I would like to?”
“I can’t guarantee he will answer.” He, in fact, could guarantee Williamson wouldn’t answer.
“Alright, but I will hold you to your word.”
“I would expect nothing else.” And there would be hell to pay when he broke it.
She searched his eyes, looking for the dishonesty she had come to expect from men. Should expect from men. Then she smiled and turned toward the steps, and a piece of his heart cracked with his lie.
Simon turned to the drawing room, becoming more irritated with what he must do to keep her and the children safe. His crutch thumped on the floor, marking him the weak invalid Caillen had accused him of being. Blasted leg.
The pale green room decorated with floral furnishings and matching draperies was a favorite of his mother’s.
Potted palms lined the glass doors to the patio, softening the bold furnishings covered in the jeweled color tones of India.
The dowager countess had added the green and heather tones of her children’s home in Scotland to ensure the room’s comfort as a family gathering spot.
All was done to make the family feel welcome in a city that held them in contempt for her lineage and theirs.
He loved and hated everything the room represented.
Williamson stood at the glass doors to the garden, his hat, book and that bloody newspaper sat on the table next to a settee adorned with purple pillows. He turned around when he heard Simon close the doors.