Page 130 of Death at a Highland Wedding
I wave a hand. It should be obvious what I’m doing. Spying. I creep toward the bushes until I’m just close enough to see that McCreadie has his hand on Isla’s face and she’s leaning toward him in rapt, whispered, intimate conversation.
I turn to find Gray right beside me, and I grin, raising my hand for a high five… which of course he just stares at, blankly.
“Never mind,” I whisper, and hurry in the other direction before we’re seen. Then I stop around the corner of the house, where we can be seen but not heard.
“That was what I thought it was, right?” I say. “The start of more than ‘just friends’?”
Gray smiles. “It was.”
“And that’s good, right?”
“That is excellent.”
I bounce, barely able to restrain the urge to throw my arms around his neck in a celebratory hug, as ifwehave something to celebrate. We do, though. Maybe we can’t take responsibility for the match, but we can celebrate our joy at seeing it.
“Step one accomplished,” I say. “Now it’s on to a proper courtship and marriage and little Islas and Hughs and—” I stop. “Oh.”
I look up at Gray, and see in his expression he’s already realized what I have.
If Isla marries, I can’t keep living in the Robert Street town house with Gray. If I were the housemaid, it would be acceptable, but tongues would only wag more if I reverted to my former position.
“If they marry…” I say.
“Yes.” One word. Neither of us needs more.
I worry my lip. Part of me wants to say that maybe they won’t marry—or it’ll be a long courtship—but of course I hope they find all the happiness they deserve, as quickly as they can.
“We could work it out,” I say. “I could get an apartment.”
Except I don’t want an apartment. I want to stay where I am. Having Isla gone would be difficult, but being away fromeveryone? Living on my own in some empty little room, without the patter of Alice’s footsteps, Jack’s easy laugh, Mrs. Wallace’s snaps and snipes, Simon outside, ready to chat, and Gray. Most of all Gray.
Gray’s voice drops. “I know you were angry with me for my suggestion, but this is one reason I made it, Mallory. Isla is out of mourning. Being here helped Hugh overcome what happened with Violet—it reminded him of why he did not marry her.”
“Because he loves Isla.”
Gray nods. “We will find another way. I understand that my suggestionwas offensive to you. I blurted it without forethought, caught you off guard and upset you. I know you did not want an apology, but I still wish to give one. I also wish you to understand that there was no insult intended in my suggestion.”
“Is that what you said in your letter?”
He frowns.
“The letter Dorothy took,” I say. “The one you left me.”
He glances away, and his color seems to rise. “Ah. Yes. The letter. It was…” He clears his throat and then nods decisively. “Exactly that. I apologized and attempted to explain myself. Poorly done, of course, and it is best that you never saw it. We will seek other options.”
“If we did need to marry, would you wear a kilt to the wedding?”
He laughs softly. “Yes, I would wear a kilt for you.” He leans down. “But we are going to seek every possible alternative.”
“We have time. I don’t think Hugh and Isla are going to be sending out wedding invitations tomorrow.”
“Agreed. Wedohave time, and we will use it wisely.” He looks up over my shoulder. “In the meanwhile, I believe they are playing a waltz.”
I glance over. “Seems like it.”
“Well, then.” He extends his arm. “May I have this dance?”
I smile and take his arm. “You may.”
