Charlie blinked at the anachronistic fixtures, but then shoved the thought aside as she spotted a jug of water and a small towel on a wooden stand next to the basin. Wasting no time, she poured some water into the basin and began to clean herself up as best she could.
She was still wearing the dress she’d worn yesterday and it now looked a little worse for wear. A few buttons were missing from the bodice and it was as crumpled as a screwed up bit of paper. She pressed her palm against her forehead, willing the pounding to subside. It didn’t.
This is what you get for crashing parties and acting like a reckless teenager, she told herself.
She wondered if her erstwhile host would have some painkillers she could beg. Either way, she couldn’t stay in here all morning. She had to get back to her hotel. She’d be meeting Ruby at the bridal shop soon and she daren’t be late for that.
Tentatively, she opened the door of her room and peeked outside. The landing was empty, but she thought she remembered coming this way last night, following a woman. Mrs Ramsay. Niall’s housekeeper.
Who had a housekeeper these days anyway? Nobody Charlie knew, that’s for sure. Perhaps Niall Campbell was rich. That would explain why he owned a townhouse in the heart of Edinburgh and why everyone at the wedding reception had been so richly dressed.
Great. Not only had she gate-crashed a wedding, she had gate-crashed some sort of posh society wedding.
Walking softly so as not to make her head pound more than it already was, she left her room and made her way to the winding wooden staircase across the landing. From below, she heard the sound of voices. She recognized Niall’s low rumble and a woman’s voice that she assumed to be Mrs Ramsey. There was another male voice that she didn’t recognize.
She bit her lip. If she was careful, she could probably sneak down the stairs without them hearing and be out the front door and on her way before any of them were any wiser. After the state she’d gotten herself into last night, she didn’t think she could survive the embarrassment of seeing them again.
But sneaking out without thanking her hosts or saying goodbye was the height of bad manners and her aunt and uncle would be appalled if they found out. They’d brought her up better than that. And besides, if she was absolutely honest with herself, the thought of seeing Niall Campbell again was very appealing.
So, instead of sneaking down the stairs and heading for the front door, she knocked on the kitchen door instead. The voices inside went silent.
“Um. Hello?” she called.
There was the sound of a chair being scraped back and then footsteps. The door opened and Charlie found herself facing the formidable woman she’d met last night.
“Miss Charlotte,” Mrs Ramsay said, her voice gravelly yet oddly soothing. “We were wondering when ye’d be up.”
Charlie flushed at the comment, feeling like a schoolgirl being chastised for oversleeping. “I... uh... I apologize for my...behavior...last night,” she stammered, her gaze flickering past Mrs Ramsay to the two figures seated at the kitchen table.
Niall sat with another man who she didn’t recognize. His sandy hair was tousled and his green eyes were filled with amusement as he watched her.
Mrs Ramsay waved away her apology. “Dinna fash, my dear. I’ve got a fresh pot of tea on the fire. Would ye like a cup? And maybe some porridge?” she asked, stepping back to allow Charlie into the kitchen.
The room was large and bright, filled with the comforting aroma of freshly brewed tea and baking bread.
“Um, just the tea, thank you,” Charlie replied. She doubted her queasy stomach would react well to the porridge.
Mrs Ramsay nodded, and Charlie followed her into the kitchen and seated herself at the table across from Niall and the other man. Her gaze focused on her hands, wishing she could disappear into the wooden planks of the floor. A moment later, a warm mug was placed before her. The smell of the tea was soothing, mint and chamomile. She cradled it between her hands, taking a moment to enjoy the warmth before looking up—and finding Niall Campbell staring right at her.
His striking features were no less appealing now she was sober. His sandy-colored hair framed his face in lazy waves and his keen eyes regarded her with interest. Mortification stole through her as she remembered how she’d kissed him. What had she been thinking?
The man seated opposite Niall, a handsome older gentleman with white hair and beard, offered her a sympathetic smile. “I’m Joseph Ramsay,” he introduced himself in a rich baritone. “An old friend of Niall’s family.”
“Nice to meet you, Joseph,” she said, glad of the distraction. “You’re Mrs Ramsay’s husband?”
“Call me Flora,” Mrs Ramsay said from where she was stirring a pot of porridge that hung on a metal tripod above an open fire. “And aye, he’s my husband. Forty years, for my sins.”
“And the best forty years of yer life, eh, my sweet?” Joseph said with a mischievous wink.
Flora rolled her eyes and didn’t reply to that.
Niall leaned back in his chair, studying Charlie appraisingly. “How are ye feeling this morning?”
“Like I’ve been hit by a double-decker bus,” she admitted sheepishly. She bit her lower lip, trying to suppress her rising blush at the memory of their kiss. “I’m really sorry about last night. I can barely remember how I ended up here.”
“That’s alright. Ye were quite... entertaining.”
Charlie’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment, but there was no malice in Niall’s words, only a teasing warmth. “I usually don’t...I mean, I’m not always...” She fumbled for words, her face growing hotter. “Well,” she finished with a shrug. “I’m glad I could provide some entertainment.”
