Chapter Five
’Twas a very good thing for Mr. Haddington that Duncan was occupied with driving Sophia to his mother’s house, elsewise he’d likely have tracked the man down and beaten him to a bloodied mess.
He’d long suspected Haddington was a blackguard of the worst sort, but hearing the proof of it from Sophia’s lips and seeing the fear in her eyes had ended all doubts.
Though Sophia had worked hard to hide it, she’d cried off and on during their drive. The tears had only fully stopped when she had fallen asleep.
Haddington had made her cry. That, Duncan could not forgive.
She sat tucked up beside him, her head resting on his shoulder.
It was a position of such utter trust. A number of women had thrown themselves at him.
Those who knew him as the stable master generally saw little beyond a handsome face and strong build.
Those acquainted with his life away from the stables were far more intrigued by his holdings and connections.
None of them ever bothered to see the man he was.
But this woman, this highborn lady with her impeccable manners and precise civility, had seen him. More than that, she liked the him she had seen. What would she think when she realized how much of his life he’d kept secret from her?
The wind picked up, as it often did in the Highlands. Duncan pulled her closer, hoping to lend her a bit of warmth. She fidgeted a bit before her eyes fluttered open. Whether it was the chill or his movement that woke her, he didn’t know.
She didn’t lift her head from his shoulder. “I fear I am not a very enjoyable traveling companion.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
She pulled the wool blanket more firmly around her shoulders. “You prefer your companions asleep?”
“Quiet, anyway.” He smiled down at her.
She took a deep breath and settled more snugly against him. “Will your mother be upset to have us descend upon her without warning?”
“She enjoys visitors.”
“Even visitors who are English?”
The thought of his mother, of all people, being put out over Sophia’s Englishness pulled a laugh from him.
“Why should that amuse you so much?”
He shook his head. “You’ll simply have to meet her.”
“Why do you call her Mary, Queen of Scots?”
“Again, you’ll have to meet her.”
She sat up straight but turned a bit to face him more directly. “You are making me more worried, not less.”
He slipped the reins into one hand, then took hold of her hand with his free one.
“My mother is a good-hearted lady who not only lives alone and longs for visitors, but who also rather dotes upon her only son and will be smotheringly affectionate toward anyone he chooses to bring to see her, especially if he happens to be fond of that visitor.”
“You’re fond of me?”
Of all he’d said, that was what she’d latched on to? “Of course I am. Do you think I’d spend six evenings out of seven wandering a garden chatting with you if I wasn’t?”
“Or driving me to meet the queen.”
“Indeed.”
She wove her fingers through his. He liked that. “Are you pleased, then, that I begged you to be my friend?”
“I’d not say you begged, but I am pleased.”
“Are you truly?” She slid closer to him. He could feel the weight of her gaze. “Please don’t say that if you aren’t in earnest. So many people lie to me about things.” It was not the first time she’d said that.
“‘People’? Would that be your family, then?”
She turned forward once more. “I don’t believe my father ever said a truthful thing to me in all my life.
My aunt promised to take me in after my father lost our home, but she changed her mind.
A friend of my grandmother’s offered me a position as lady’s companion, but then told her butler to refuse me entrance to the house.
Mr. Haddington hired me for what he said was the role of governess, but he lied about why I was brought to Haddington House. People are forever lying to me.”
He raised their entwined hands to his lips. “I’m sorry people’ve hurt you, Sophia. But I swear to you that I’m not one of them. When I say I’m pleased to be your friend, I mean that I’m very much pleased to be your friend.”
“Do you kiss all of your friends’ hands?”
Nothing slipped past this woman. “M’ first time.” And, he hoped, not his last.
He guided the horse up a pebbled path and under the columned portico of a house he knew well indeed. “Let us hope the housekeeper has a fire built in the sitting room.”
Sophia’s eyes darted from him to the house again and again. “This is your home?”
“It is.”
Johnny, who looked over the animals and stables, stepped up to the cart. Duncan tossed him the reins then hopped down.
“But—” Sophia looked all around, her expression only growing more confused. “But this isn’t a cave.”
Heavens, he enjoyed her sense of humor. “The cave is in back.”
He came around the cart and reached up for her. Without hesitation, she set her hands on his shoulders and allowed him to lift her to the ground. He kept his hands at her waist even after she’d firmly regained her footing; he enjoyed both her confusion over his home and her nearness.
“You are employed by another man when you own your own house and land?” She looked up at him. “I don’t understand.”
“We’ve stumbled upon a new idea up here in Scotland. We call it work, and we consider it a mark of a worthwhile person.”
“Is there not work enough to do here? In my experience, most estates require a great deal of effort to run.”
“It’s not the same.”
She watched him closely, clearly pondering his answer. Few people had truly listened to him the way she always did. He’d found himself anticipating their walks in the garden hours beforehand, knowing he had both a listening ear and an enjoyable conversation to look forward to.
“You took the job to prove yourself, I’d wager,” she said. “To convince someone— I have my theories about who that someone is— that you were more than the fortunate son of a landowner.”
She’d pieced that together quickly.
“And what do you think of my efforts? Have I been wasting my time on a pointless pursuit?”
“That depends on whether you convinced your harshest critic.”
He tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “And who is my harshest critic?”
“I think” —she stretched up on her toes— “that would be you, Duncan.” She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, sending warmth straight to his very heart.
The front door flew open and Mrs. Green, the housekeeper, rushed out, arms waving, eyes wide with excitement.
“Master Duncan! We were not expecting you.” Her eager gaze fell on Sophia, whose hands yet rested on his chest, whilst his hands were still at her waist. “What is this? A sweetheart? Did you marry and not tell anyone?”
He laughed out loud at the immediate look of panic on Sophia’s face. “No, Mrs. Green. I’m not married. This is my dear friend, Sophia, who has come to meet your mistress.”
Mrs. Green clasped her hands over her heart. “Mrs. Buchanan hasn’t had a visitor in weeks and weeks.”
“Not even her son?” Sophia asked.
Duncan slipped his hand around her back, guiding her toward the house. “I’m here every Sunday without fail.”
“This is where you go. I wondered about that.”
They stepped into the sitting room where Mother always spent her evenings. This evening was no exception. She rose from her usual chair, her blue silk dress flowing in elegant waves as she stood.
Duncan slipped away from Sophia’s side and crossed to his mother, placing a kiss on her cheek. “I’ve brought you a visitor, Mother.” He indicated Sophia. “She has until recently been employed as the governess at Haddington House.”
“How very unfortunate for the young lady. Employment at Haddington House, no matter the role, is an occupation I would not wish upon anyone.” Mother glided across the room, her hand outstretched in invitation, her words and tone as refined as ever.
“You are most welcome. I trust your journey was a pleasant one.”
Sophia’s startled gaze sought and found him. “You didn’t tell me that your mother is English.”
Mother looked as shocked as Sophia did. “Duncan, you’ve brought me an Englishwoman.”
“More than that, Mother. She is my friend. And I hope that she’ll become yours as well.”
***
“Now, son, no more of your stories. Tell me what is truly happening here.” Mother sat in her favored armchair, eying him with the very knowing look of wisdom that had always brought a gleam to Father’s eyes.
Mrs. Green had led Sophia up to a guest room under strict instructions from Mother to provide her with a few gowns to try on, since Sophia didn’t have any of her own. Now Duncan was alone with his mother and, as was her tendency, she’d not waited more than a moment to ask questions.
Duncan had learned from his late father that delaying an answer was pointless. Though it was the Scots who had the reputation for stubbornness, his very English mother had long ago taught him that they weren’t the only ones with backbone.
“Mr. Haddington threatened her,” he said. “’Twas no longer safe for her to stay.”
Mother’s mouth turned up in a subtle smile. “You sound even more Scottish than usual today, Duncan. Miss Pemberton appears to have affected you more than you will admit.”
“How could an Englishwoman’s influence make me sound more Scottish?”
She reached over and patted his hand. “Even as a little boy, whenever you were excited or worried or overwrought, whatever influence I had on your diction disappeared. You have sounded like Johnny ever since your arrival. Miss Pemberton’s presence here must be indicative of something more than the moral depravity of Mr. Haddington. ”
“She is my friend.”
His usually regal mother actually rolled her eyes. “Aiden MacAllister is your friend. When was the last time you sat with his hand in yours for a full quarter hour as you did with Miss Pemberton this evening?”
“I am fond of her, but she was born to a family of privilege and refinement.”
Mother pushed out a heavy breath. “Now you truly do sound like your father. He made the exact same objection early in our acquaintance. Tell me, did I ever believe myself above him, too refined for a Scotsman?”
Duncan shook his head and leaned back against the sofa. “But you, dear Mother, are the universal exception to most every rule.”
“Would it help if I told you that whilst I watched Miss Pemberton this evening, I saw a fondness in her eyes when she looked at you that went beyond mere friendship?” She smoothed the front of her skirts.
“You’ve been trying to find me a wife for years and years, Mother. Knowing your growing desperation, I’ll not allow you to be the judge of any woman’s fondness for me.”
“Then allow me to be the judge of my son’s idiocy.”
He chuckled. Mother never was one to mince words.
“With her, you smile and you laugh, something you haven’t done often since your father died.
And though my difficult relations convinced you long ago that the English hold unflattering views of Scotland and her people, please do not allow that to convince you to paint all the English with the same hateful brush. ”
He let his shoulders sag. “She said something like that to me not long ago. I don’t care for the idea of the both of you being right about that part of me.”
Mother tucked a stray hair back behind her ear once more. “I, for one, am impressed that she possesses enough fortitude to tell you when you’re being muleheaded. You are rather intimidating, you realize.”
“So I’ve been told.” ’Twas one of the reasons the Haddingtons allowed him full run of the stables with few questions asked, and one of the reasons they didn’t dig too deeply to discover his origins.
He needn’t tell anyone he owned a small but fine estate of his own; his demeanor alone convinced people to heed what he said.
He far preferred being respected for his work and self-possession than for the value of his land and his mother’s family connections.
“Does Miss Pemberton find you intimidating?” Mother asked.
“She seemed to at first, but not any longer.”
Mother nodded. “I like her.”
He had hoped she would. “Do you like her enough to allow her to stay while she finds her footing again?”
Mother clasped her hands on her lap, her bearing as royal as if she’d actually been a queen. “She may stay as long as she wishes, under one condition.”
He narrowed his gaze on her. “What’s the condition?”
“You must come visit her, and do so more often than once a week.”
He opened his mouth to object, to explain all of the many reasons why that was unreasonable. But she held up her hand and cut him off.
“It is only an hour’s drive. And, Duncan William Buchanan, a woman who liked and valued you before knowing of your relative wealth and assets, who saw past the fearsome demeanor and quiet grumpiness you exude, is well worth the effort.”