“Ah, if this isn’t a pleasant surprise,” Mrs. Langford said. She flushed like a young lass and touched her fingertips to her cheek.
Caldwell’s smile carved an appealing dimple in his cheek. “The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Langford.”
Amelia caught the sour glance Logan shot his cousin. As if to announce his dismay at the attention everyone was receiving except him, Heathy let out a bark, then another.
A vee etched between Mrs. Langford’s brows. She leaned closer to get a better look inside the satchel. “Goodness, is that what I think it is?”
As if in reply, Heathy barked, a bit less plaintively this time.
“A wee hound.” Mrs. Langford looked to MacLain. “Why, he’s so very much like the one yer mum had when ye were a lad.”
MacLain met her gaze. “Ye still remember old Silas?”
“Who could ever forget the valiant little creature? No vermin dared trespass in yer mum’s home, not with Silas in residence.”
“That was a long time ago,” he said.
“I remember ye playing with the pup,” Mrs. Langford said with a touch of wistfulness. “Back in those days, ye did not even come to my chin. Yer mum was none too pleased by the dirt the two of ye would drag into the house.”
MacLain rubbed his jaw, the look of a pleasant memory softening the set of his features. Something in his expression—something Amelia couldn’t quite define—fascinated her. What an imp he must have been as a boy, a handsome lad with mischief dancing in his dark brown eyes.
Caldwell chuckled under his breath. “Getting soft-hearted, are ye?”
MacLain’s jaw hardened. He’d displayed a side of himself Amelia suspected he did not usually reveal. “The dog earned his keep, I will give him that.”
“Just as Heathy does,” Amelia spoke up proudly.
His brow furrowed. “The dog’s a wee terror, he is.”
Caldwell leaned toward Heathy’s case. He drew back quickly when a growl met his action. “That he is.” He chuckled. “Why, I’m shaking in my boots.”
“Heathy can be a wee bit cantankerous, but I’m confident he will warm up to you,” Amelia said. “In time.”
A primly attired wisp of a woman whose dark hair was generously sprinkled with silver entered the front hall. “Cantankerous, you say?” Wry humor played on her thin mouth. “In that case, the dog will be right at home among this lot of scoundrels.”
“A warm greeting, as usual, Mrs. Garrett.” MacLain’s mouth hitched up at one corner, not quite a grin. “No one could accuse ye of dripping honey to gain favor with yer employer.”
“Would you have it any other way?” she replied.
“I do value honesty. But I place even more worth on yer lamb stew,” MacLain said. “A finer cook ye could not find in all of England.”
“It’s a good thing you were blessed with that smile. I’ve no doubt it has helped you charm your way out of many a fix.” The woman’s eyes warmed as she turned to Amelia. “As my employer is taking his fine time offering an introduction, I will see to that task myself. I am Mrs. Garrett. You must be Mrs. Stewart.”
MacLain slanted the older woman a glance. “Impatient as ever, I see.”
Mrs. Garrett flashed him a little scowl that appeared to be for effect. “I keep house, and from time to time, I prepare meals for MacLain—on those rare occasions when he’s actually in the residence.”
Amelia offered a smile. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“As ye can see, Mrs. Garrett’s cheerful disposition endears her to all she meets,” Caldwell said with a cheeky grin.
Mrs. Garrett’s mouth tightened, as if she held words perched on the tip of her tongue that she’d thought better than to voice. Waving him away, she turned to Amelia. “If there is anything you need while you’re under this roof, please do not hesitate to let me know. I will be seeing to your accommodations.”
“Thank you,” Amelia said as Heathy yipped again.
Mrs. Garrett bent down and spoke gently to the dog. Her smile seemed as genuine as Heathy’s enthusiasm while he wagged his tail.
“The little fellow is a good judge of character.” She turned to Finn, her eyes narrowing. “’Tis no wonder he growled at you.”
