Chapter 13
It was, in fact, a full nine days after Hamish had arrived—days in which all remained calm, well-ordered, and peaceful, and matters moved in their usual slow but positive fashion while spring laid a soft hand over the Hall lands—before Daniel walked into the Hall’s breakfast parlor. Unlike his older brothers, he didn’t announce his arrival with a roar but with a tentative smile as he meekly followed a now-resigned Cromwell, who halted and formally stated, “Mr. Daniel Fergusson, sir, miss.”
Caitlin beamed. “Daniel!” She leapt to her feet and rounded the table, holding out her hands. “We wondered when you’d get here.”
Much leaner and slighter than Rory and Hamish, with dark hair and sky-blue eyes, Daniel smiled and grasped her hands.
She gripped his fingers and drew him closer to plant a kiss on his cheek. Stepping back, she studied him. “Did Uncle Patrick send you?”
He nodded. His gaze found his brothers, busily eating hearty breakfasts but also looking inquiringly at him. “Da waited six days after Hamish left. I think he’s fairly certain you two haven’t come to any harm but have used the chance to scarper off somewhere. As we predicted, he’s fretting and fashing over that.”
Daniel brought his gaze back to Caitlin and smiled. “That said, I’m fairly certain Da would be surprised to find the two large lumps here with you. I think he imagines that, once they were south of the border, they each went off on their own.”
Rory shook his head. “He never did understand that we”—he pointed his fork at Caitlin and Daniel, then circled the tines to include Hamish and himself—“were all of like mind, much less that we might stick together and look out for each other.”
“That’s just as well,” Daniel said, “because otherwise, he’d never have let me come after you.”
“Indeed.” Caitlin drew Daniel to the table, to the empty chair beside the one Hamish occupied. “Have you breakfasted?”
Daniel nodded. “Aye. Not knowing what I might find here, I ate at the inn in the village.”
“Coffee?” Farther around the table, Gregory, his expression mild, interested, and welcoming, raised the coffeepot.
Eagerly, Daniel nodded. “Please. They didn’t have anything but weak tea at the inn.”
Caitlin poked Daniel’s arm and nodded toward Gregory. “That’s Mr. Gregory Cynster, the owner of the estate.”
Daniel looked conscious and bobbed his head. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Cynster.”
Smiling, Gregory waved Daniel to the chair. “Just Gregory, and I’m delighted to meet you as well.”
With Daniel slipping into the chair and Hamish passing Daniel’s cup to Gregory to be filled, Caitlin returned to her place on Gregory’s other side. As she reclaimed her seat, she smiled at the others farther down the table, who were still breaking their fasts. As was most often the case, Melrose, Tristan, and Hugo had been the last of the Hall’s residents down to the breakfast parlor. In response to the open curiosity in the trio’s faces, she replied, “Yes, Daniel is another cousin.”
Taking that introduction in his stride, Daniel accepted the filled coffee cup from Hamish, then turned a smile on the three painters. “And yes, despite all appearances, I am, indeed, a full brother to the two already here.”
The comment made everyone laugh, and Caitlin reflected that was one of Daniel’s gifts, one that certainly came in handy in his usual role of peacemaker among his unruly siblings.
“So,” Hamish said, once Daniel had taken a sip of his coffee, “how were things going at Benbeoch with me and Rory both gone?”
Appreciatively, Daniel cradled the coffee cup. “Much as we expected—Morgan is happily managing the entire estate, and no one has really noticed any difference.”
Rory grunted. “We’ve always known he could do it.”
“We knew,” Hamish said, “but Da never saw it.”
Daniel murmured, “He refused to see it.”
Rory and Hamish nodded, and Hamish looked at Gregory. “Da truly doesn’t need us”—he glanced at his brothers—“any of us, at Benbeoch. Morgan is more than up to the task of managing the whole damn enterprise, and more to the point, he enjoys doing it. He’ll be in his element, now.”
Daniel and Rory murmured agreement.
Cromwell came in, carrying a rectangular parcel wrapped in brown paper and string. He paused by Daniel’s chair. “What did you want done with this, Mr. Fergusson?”
“Oh.” Daniel set down his cup, rose, and took the parcel from Cromwell. Then he looked at Caitlin and smiled shyly. “This is for you.” He walked around the table and handed it to her. “I hope you like it.”
Gregory watched as Caitlin’s eyes lit up.
“Thank you.” She set the package—about eighteen inches wide and twelve high, but only a few inches deep—on the table, undid the strings, then quickly stripped away the wrapping. “Oh!” She lifted a framed painting free of the paper. She held it up and, with her eyes, devoured the scene depicted in delicate pen strokes and softly colored with watercolor paint. “It’s Benbeoch—the manor with the mountain behind.”
