“Did you really converse with Indian savages?” Lady Bonnie gasped. They seemed surprised that Lord Balmore hadn’t been scalped on the spot.
Ursula heard him reply. “The indigenous people prefer to be called by their tribal names.” She wanted to listen more but, with the dowager countess on her left and Lady Iona on her right, Ursula was drawn into a conversation on the most effective remedies for chilblains.
They slurped their way through Cullen skink, followed by some rather grey-looking mutton. Ursula pushed it round her plate but it continued to lie apathetic, congealing snugly between two boiled potatoes. Even the clootie dumpling, rich with dried fruit and spices, failed to rouse her appetite.
Rye, meanwhile, asked for a second helping.
At last, the interminable meal was over and the ladies rose.
“They’ll only be a few minutes behind us, Bonnie dear.” Ursula heard Lady Balmore chivvying her daughter as they entered the drawing room. “Now, don’t be afraid to—you know…” She tugged a little at Lady Bonnie’s neckline, pulling the yoke to the edge of her shoulders.
“Do you think he’s interested, Mama? I can’t tell. He seems to look just as much at Fiona as at me, as if he can’t decide.”
“Of course he likes you.” Lady Balmore sniffed. “Now, get yourself seated at the piano and play something melodious—none of yourdoatydirges!”
Close behind, the other Lady Balmore—Arabella, wasn’t it?—seemed to be taking a different tack with her own daughter. “You’re being far too obvious, Fiona. Less smiling if you please. Men like to hunt rather than be chased. In fact, a certain aloofness can work wonders; ignore him all together if you like.”
Fiona looked bewildered and wandered over to turn the pages for Bonnie.
With a sigh, Ursula helped herself to the coffee that had been put out on the side.
No sooner had she poured than Lady Balmore was at her elbow. “How thoughtful of you, Miss Abernathy. If you might bring us each a cup that would be most kind.” With a curt nod, she lifted the saucer from Ursula’s fingers and went to take a seat.
Pursing her lips, Ursula did as she was told.
The laird it seemed, was weary, requiring Lady Dunrannoch to retire with him, leaving Cameron and Rye to join the would-be harem.
“How are ye getting along?” asked Cameron, coming to sit alongside Ursula. “Surviving the vipers’ pit?” He chuckled to himself. “I dinnae envy my cousin, being thrown in with these fighting o’er him.”
Ursula buried a smile beneath the rim of her cup.
She was more than happy to let Cameron cheer her up a bit. He was a little on the skinny side for her taste, but he might do to make Rye jealous. Despite heading towards her, Lord Balmore had veered away as soon as Cameron sat down, taking an armchair by the fire instead, next to the dowager.
“You’re a saint and no mistake, choosing to spend your Hogmany up here in the wilds of Rannoch—in thisdreichweather, and all for the sake of thiscrabbitlot. They’re ne’er happy unless they’ve something to moan about.”
Ursula couldn’t help laughing. It was nice to have an ally—even though Cameron was a mite younger than her and didn’t seem to hold sway over anyone. Since being introduced, he’d been nothing but friendly.
“They’ve not been so verycrabbit—and I don’t mind the weather when we’re warm inside.”
“You’re too polite by half, Miss Abernathy. I only hope your good manners rub off on thesetumshiecousins o’ mine.”
“Tumshie?” Ursula raised an eyebrow.
“Like turnips o’course. Although, to be fair, sometimes, they’re more like plain tatties.”
“That’s a dreadful thing to say!” Ursula laughed again. “On behalf of my gender, I must protest.”
“In that case, I shall shut ma blethering and offer ye a wee dram. Grandfather keeps the best locked away in his library, but I know where the key is. I’ll be back in two ticks with something to warm ye better than coffee.”
No sooner had he departed than Ursula noticed Lady Arabella Balmore staring at her with marked dislike. Ursula fought the urge to poke out her tongue.
Rye was also looking over, and with a wistful expression. No doubt, it was exhausting having a bevy of women tussling over one. She’d overheard his two younger cousins vying to guess his favourite song, only to discover that he’d never heard of any of the ballads they suggested.
He rose from his seat and wandered over, the wolfhound following. It put its head in his lap when he sat down again, gazing up with devoted eyes.
Even the dog is enamoured with him!
Ursula rolled her eyes. “A new friend?”
