Lavinia tipped her head, a furrow forming between her brows. “You’ll always have a home with me, but is that truly what your heart desires?”
She’d never pondered what her heart might desire, because dreams had always been out of reach. She’d made a point to keep her head out of the clouds, to stay practical. Now was no different. If she declined Lady Thorne’s offer to stay on as her companion and didn’t return to live with Lavinia, she had no place to go.
How 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, free of scandal. Where Mr. McTaggart was teaching her about taking risks and finding joy.
Edith shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. “To be honest, I don’t know what I want or how to figure it out.” She looked up and offered a half-smile. “Couldn’t we just enjoy Christmas for now?”
“Of course. There’s no need to rush.” Lavinia reached across the carriage to take her hand. “I have a feeling you’ll know soon enough. Fate has a way of sorting these things out.”
Chapter Nine
Two days later, Edith chose a plush chair closest to the fire to escape the chaos of the McTaggart Christmas Eve festivities. The mug of chocolate Mr. McTaggart had handed her after she’d declined a glass of the more popular Prince Charlie’s Liqueur had grown lukewarm as she chatted with various members of the clan.
Given her stormy relationship with Mr. McTaggart at the beginning of her stay in Scotland, she wouldn’t have blamed his family for staging an ambush and sending her back to London—all while trussed up like a pig.
Yet they were a forgiving lot, making her feel nothing but welcome at their gathering. Mr. McTaggart’s mother had been especially thoughtful, preparing a mince pie to honor Edith’s English origins.
In truth, everyone at Aldmist Fell was kind, including her employer. The baron and baroness had not hesitated when Mr. McTaggart requested the use of the great hall to accommodate his clan for the celebration.
Edith found herself searching for the burly Scot and discovered him at 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. With a wink, he said, “I havenae forgotten about you, lass.”
Startled, she looked away, heat flooding her face.
Mr. McTaggart’s laughter echoed in 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 to him. He was still watching her, his crooked grin widening as he turned to speak with an older man who had approached him. His waistcoat stretched across his broad back as he leaned down to listen.
Lud! She had no restraint when it came to Fergus McTaggart, which was ironic since she had been harping on him to be less impulsive and reckless almost from the moment they met.
She inhaled slowly to calm her racing pulse, savoring the blend of quintessential holiday scents: spicy pine boughs, freshly baked bread, 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, swirling around her. She didn’t need to speak the language to understand how much Mr. McTaggart’s family loved him, and one another.
His sister dragged a ladder-back chair over and plopped down beside her. Her green eyes sparkled just like Mr. McTaggart’s when she was in high spirits. “We havenae frightened you away, I see. Verra good.”
Edith returned Ismay’s smile. “Not one bit. I come from a large family; I was the youngest of ten, but they are all gone now.”
“Losh! I’m sorry about your kin.” Ismay put her arm around Edith’s shoulders and leaned her head against her. “You may no’ want us, but you’re saddled with us now.”
“I would be a fool to turn down such a generous offer,” Edith said, hugging her in return.
“Fergus said he will be along in a moment.” Ismay ran an assessing gaze over Edith’s hair and dress before flashing a self-satisfied smile. “You look verra bonnie tonight. I believe it is my best work yet.”
As Lady Thorne’s maid, she had generously offered to assist Edith with her toilette for the party.
“Thank you.” Edith held her head high, feeling pretty in Lavinia’s gown.
Ismay grasped her hand and squeezed. “It was my pleasure, Mistress Gallagher. I enjoyed spending time with you, and I’m pleased you are here tonight.”
Her new friend’s words were very kind. Edith had experienced many lonely Christmases in her life, and she would carry this memory with her forever.
Ismay’s mother held up a plain box tied with a red silk ribbon and waved to her daughter. “This one’s for you, lass. C’mon. We’ll be here all night if we dinnae get started.”
Edith pasted on a smile as the family members huddled around the pile of gifts on the table. The happy spark inside her dimmed a little, despite her determination not to be bothered that she couldn’t participate in the gift exchange.
“Here’s one for Ian.” A girl no older than fifteen grabbed a package and thrust it toward a redheaded man across the table. Everyone else was doing the same, calling out names, grabbing gifts, and ripping into them. There were hearty slaps on backs, squeals of joy, and lots of good-natured teasing.
Tiny prickles at the backs of Edith’s eyes caused them to water. The McTaggarts’ warm acceptance of her was beyond anything she had ever experienced, but it was time to go.
