Lavinia smiled. “I would be delighted. How long have I been harping on you to dress your age?”
“Too long. I listened about the hair, didn’t I?” Edith grabbed one of her pale curls brushing her shoulder and brandished it, offering proof.
“And you look lovely, just like I knew you would. I hope you are finished hiding behind those ridiculous spectacles, shapeless gowns, and old woman hair knots.”
Edith stuck out her tongue, but she couldn’t help laughing. She might be slow to listen to reason, but it eventually sunk in.
Lavinia adjusted her position on the bench so she was leaning forward slightly. “I’m glad we have this moment alone. I want to thank you for everything you’ve done to make Gracie’s transition to living with Helena easier. Helena said you have been invaluable, and we are both grateful for your sacrifice these past few months.”
“It hardly feels like a sacrifice.” Perhaps Edith wouldn’t have said the same when they’d first arrived in Scotland, but she was coming to like Aldmist Fell. “I’m surprised to discover I’m reluctant to return to England. Fortunately, Lord Thorne is not expected back in Town for a few more weeks. There is still time to enjoy myself.”
“And I am pleased you are allowing yourself to have a pleasant time. You deserve a bit of happiness after the shoddy life you had.”
Edith’s smile slowly faded. “What about you? Do you not deserve happiness too?”
“I am happy.” Lavinia reclined against the seatback again and directed her gaze out the window. “I am always happy when I am with St. Ambrose.”
But she couldn’t always be in the marquess’s company. Not as long as she maintained her status as his courtesan rather than the wife that he wanted her to be. “Are you certain you cannot marry him?” Edith asked. “I believe he would fight off the devil himself to have you for his wife.”
Lavinia sniffed. “He shouldn’t have to. August knows where I stand. He needs a marchioness he can be proud to have by his side.”
Arguing was pointless. Lavinia was too strong-headed for her own good. Edith only hoped Lord St. Ambrose proved more stubborn in the end. Despite Lavinia’s claims to want the best for the marquess, she would be crushed if he married someone else.
“How did the conversation travel down this path? We were not discussing me,” Lavinia said. “We were discussing you and your future.”
“Were we?”
Lavinia focused her blue-green gaze on Edith. She had a very direct way of looking at a person, as if she could see beyond the outer layers. “Helena and I agree it is time to hire a governess to manage Gracie’s education. She has much to learn if there is any hope of a successful entry into Society. Helena said she is happy to keep you on as her companion, but I suspect you would rather be someplace else.”
“I don’t—” Edith paused to consider if that were true. Was there someplace else she’d rather be? She liked Lord and Lady Thorne, and she adored Gracie, but the Thornes were not her family. The past few years the only person she’d ever thought of as family was sitting across from her. “Would Lord St. Ambrose allow me to return?”
Lavinia frowned. “You will always have a home with me, Edith. August has said you may stay as long as you like, but is that truly what you want?”
What option did she have? If she declined Lady Thorne’s offer to stay on as her companion and didn’t return to live with Lavinia, she had nowhere to go. She wished they could all stay at Aldmist Fell where life felt easy for the first time. Where Lavinia and Lord St. Ambrose could love each other openly without the risk of scandal. And where Mr. McTaggart was teaching her about taking risks and having fun.
She shook her head. “I don’t know what I want.” Looking up, she offered a half smile. “Couldn’t we just enjoy Christmas for now?”
Lavinia smiled back at her. “There is no need to decide today. Fate seems to have a way of working out these dilemmas for us. I’m sure you will know your mind soon enough.”
Edith chosea plush chair closest to the fire to escape the chaos of the McTaggart Christmas Eve festivities. The mug of chocolate Mr. McTaggart handed her after she’d declined a glass of the more popular Prince Charlie’s Liqueur had grown lukewarm while she’d chatted with different members of the McTaggart clan.
After her stormy relationship with Mr. McTaggart at the beginning of her stay in Scotland, she would not have blamed his family if they’d staged an ambush and sent her back to London trussed up like a pig. They were a forgiving lot, however, and made her feel nothing but welcome at their gathering. Mr. McTaggart’s mother was especially thoughtful and had prepared a mince pie to honor Edith’s English origins.
In truth, everyone at Aldmist Fell was kind, including her employer. The baron and baroness hadn’t hesitated when Mr. McTaggart requested the use of the great hall to accommodate his clan for Christmas.
She found herself searching for the burly Scot and discovered him in the center of a group of clansmen awaiting a refill from the bottle in his hand. He towered over several of the men and caught her staring. He winked. “I havena forgotten ye, lass.”
Edith startled and looked away as heat flooded her face.
Mr. McTaggart’s laughter carried on the air.
She sighed. Already, his confidence bordered on arrogance without any encouragement from her. If she were wise, she would pretend she didn’t know him. Wise, she was not, however, and her gaze strayed back toward him. He was still watching her and his crooked grin widened before he turned to speak with an older man who approached him. His waistcoat stretched across his broad back when he leaned down to listen.
Lud!She had no restraint when it came to Fergus McTaggart, which was ironic since she’d been harping on him to be less impulsive and reckless almost from the moment they met.
She slowly inhaled to calm her racing pulse and savored the blend of quintessential holiday scents: spicy pine boughs, freshly baked breads, cinnamon, and ginger. Edith couldn’t imagine a more perfect setting for a celebration, or a more jovial crowd. Laughter and unfamiliar Gaelic echoed off the arched ceiling and swirled around her, but she didn’t need to speak the language to understand how much Mr. McTaggart’s family loved him or one another.
His sister dragged up a ladder-back chair and plopped down beside her. Her green eyes sparkled just like Mr. McTaggart’s when he was in high spirits. “We havena frightened you away, I see. Verra good.”
