Chapter 15 #3
He stepped closer, the movement easy, almost casual. “Then perhaps I ought to offer my arm.”
Eloise had braced for this, though it still took effort not to look toward Jamie at once. Lawrence’s arm remained extended, perfectly polite, perfectly public, and refusal in front of everyone would have made a scene. He knew it, and she knew it, which was precisely why it irritated her so badly.
Jamie, at the edge of her vision, had gone very still, his jaw tightening. Catriona looked between them, her expression courteous but observant.
Eloise took one careful breath, then placed her hand lightly on Lawrence’s arm. “Thank you.”
Jamie looked away and then back again, as if forcing himself to remain composed.
“We shall make a pleasant procession, I am sure,” Lawrence said, smiling, not at Jamie, but at her.
Then Maisie, who had been standing carefully near her uncle, slipped her hand into his without warning. Eloise glanced back at once and watched Jamie look down and close his fingers carefully around the small hand.
Tingling warmth spread through her chest at the gentleness of it. Maisie beamed up at him, and his expression warmed. Duncan looked like he was pretending not to notice while very clearly noticing everything, and Catriona’s eyes darted briefly toward Jamie and Maisie before moving away again.
The household moved toward the door. Mrs. Maggie bustled to ensure the children had proper coats.
Clara, still pretending not to care, shoved a small parcel of biscuits into Maisie's hand and muttered that carnival food was never worth trusting entirely.
Logan appeared in the doorway just as the group was assembling, too relaxed to be mistaken for anything but trouble.
“You are late,” Clara said.
“That seems to be a common opinion,” Logan said. “But I am on time.”
“That is not what you usually are.”
“That is because you have low expectations.”
“I have perfectly reasonable expectations.”
“Of me?”
“Yes.”
“That is your first mistake,” Logan said, and Clara’s mouth flattened while he smiled, entirely pleased with himself.
Lawrence was charming and light on the walk toward the village, asking nothing about the household.
However, he soon grew distracted by a conversation with Catriona about her aunt and the state of the Inverness roads.
Eloise listened with half her attention.
The rest of it kept drifting back to Jamie and the children.
Maisie had taken Jamie’s hand with confidence. Duncan walked beside Eloise now, unusually silent. Jamie looked down at Maisie as she spoke to him, pointing at the sky. He nodded seriously, listening intently to what she was saying.
The tenderness of it startled her. It was not a grand gesture. Not a speech. Nothing that could be easily described. It was simply the way he listened, the way he bent slightly to hear her more clearly, the way he did not release her hand even once the path to the village lay open ahead of them.
Eloise could not help glancing back once more as the group set out.
Mrs. Maggie noticed at once, her gaze shifting from Eloise’s face to Jamie and the children ahead and said nothing at first. Not until they had reached the path leading down toward the village did she speak again, in a low voice meant only for Eloise.
“Lady Catriona was once expected to marry the master,” she said. “Before the Navy took him.”
Eloise looked at her sharply. The housekeeper kept her gaze on the path as she walked, her tone careful, not conspiratorial, but protective. Cautious. The way one warned a friend of a hidden step in the dark.
“She is a good woman,” Mrs. Maggie went on, glancing at Eloise once. “And sensible.”
Eloise gave a faint nod. “Yes.”
“Society has opinions about who a viscount ought to marry.” Mrs. Maggie’s voice remained low, her expression calm, though there was nothing casual about the warning beneath it. “And whatever it is you have been allowing yourself to feel, I should think carefully about it now.”
The words sat in the air between them, plain and undeniable.
Eloise felt her throat go dry and glanced toward Jamie automatically.
He was still with Maisie, who was now pointing at a cluster of clouds and giving him an explanation only she could fully understand, and he nodded gravely, as though every word mattered.
Mrs. Maggie touched her arm once with brief, gentle pressure.
She let her hand fall away and moved a little farther ahead.
Eloise stood motionless for a second too long before following.
Her face had gone very still. The warning was kind, which made it worse.
She looked at Catriona, then at Jamie, then at the children, weighing the distance between what she had told herself and what she had secretly begun to feel.
And because Mrs. Maggie had spoken with such plain care, Eloise could not pretend any longer not to understand.
“Thank you,” she said softly, as she passed.
Mrs. Maggie looked at her once, then gave the smallest squeeze to her arm, and left the rest unsaid.