Page 16 of Death at a Highland Wedding
Cranston snorts. “I know you adore your moonlit walks, but I told you to stick to the road.”
“I know the property, Archie. I have been here even more than you have. As for staying on the road, I intended to, but then I heard the wildcat yowling.”
“Is that what I heard? Damnable beast. It has developed a taste for eggs, and now it will not stop stealing them from the coop.”
“At least it is not eating the chickens.”
“Oh, I am sure it will.”
“Eventually one of those traps will rid you of it.”
“Do not start in on me about the traps.” Cranston stalks back toward the house. “They were Müller’s idea, and Duncan has already lectured meabout them. Sanctimonious…” I don’t catch the next word, but it’s clearly not complimentary. “Remind me again why he is at my wedding?”
Sinclair falls in step beside him. “Because he is a good friend of your future brother-in-law, and your future bride wished him to come.”
Cranston grumbles under his breath. “The man is insufferable. Always has been. He has too high an opinion of himself and absolutely no sense of humor. I do not know what Hugh sees in him.”
“Hmm. A perfectly pleasant and good-natured fellow whose best chum is a horse’s ass. I have never heard of such a thing myself.”
Cranston makes what I presume is a rude gesture.
Sinclair laughs and then says, “There is nothing wrong with Duncan. You do not like him because you do not understand him. Science was never your strong suit, and you have little patience with serious fellows. If you have forgotten the lesson you learned in school, Archie, let me refresh your memory. Leave Duncan Gray alone. Cease poking and jabbing at him, or you will regret it. Also, steer clear of his little assistant. I have not determined the relationship there, but it is clear he will toleratethatfar less than he tolerates you poking at him.”
“Do you think I have missed the way he tenses every time another man looks at her?” Cranston adjusts his long coat. “I am almost tempted to leer, just to annoy him. But I would not make the girl uncomfortable. Nor would I have any interest in her. First, I am about to be married. Second, she is a child.”
“The assistant or your bride?” Sinclair teases.
Cranston stops sharply enough to make Sinclair fall back. “They both are, and if you expect me to say differently, I will not. Gray’s chit is a child. My bride is a child.”
“Fiona is twenty-one. More than old enough to wed. No one thinks her a child.”
“Well, I do. She is clever and witty, but still barely more than a girl.”
Sinclair chuckles. “Remember that on your wedding night.”
Now Cranston spins, and his friend backs up fast, hands raised.
“I was joking, Archie,” Sinclair says.
“It is not a joke. It is a travesty, wedding a girl of twenty-one to a man of thirty-two. I understand it is commonly done, but I find it appalling. I willcare for her, as she deserves to be cared for, and if she eventually comes to care for me in another way, that would be ideal, but for now, she is a child moving into my guardianship.”
I don’t hear Sinclair’s response. I’m too busy wondering whether I heard right. I’d decided I knew exactly what sort of man Archie Cranston is, and I feel as if I’m listening to his twin brother.
First, he said he wouldn’t leer at me to annoy Gray because that would makemeuncomfortable. As for Fiona, when we hear of young women being married off to older men, I think we presume the men never have an issue with it. Who wouldn’t want a twenty-one-year-old bride? Well, maybe a mature man hoping for an equally mature wife. A man looking for a partner.
Fiona is more than old enough to wed and, in this era, Cranston is actually a “young” groom for her—better than a fifty-year-old widower. If Cranston sees a problem with the practice, then that is more enlightened a viewpoint than I would have imagined from the man I met.
When Sinclair speaks again, his voice is almost too low for me to hear. “I apologize, old chap. I was only teasing. You have not spoken much of the marriage, and I made the mistake of presuming all was well.”
“Alliswell,” Cranston says firmly.
“I know it cannot be easy. If only Hugh had married Violet, you would not need to wed Fiona.”
“I said it is fine. Fiona is lovely, and I will…” Cranston clears his throat. “Endeavor to be a good husband. For now, that means looking after her, which I will do. Mark my words. However our marriage plays out, she is under my protection, and I will see that no harm befalls her.”
“Good.” Sinclair slaps Cranston on the back. “There is a very fine chap hidden under that rough exterior, Archie.”
Cranston snorts. “Do not mistake it for weakness. It is late, and I am tired and maudlin. Let us get inside and have a whisky before we trundle you off to bed.”
