That. . . Malcolm could not let pass. He dropped his quill, rotating to look at his brother directly. “Miss Brodure is a person, Ethan, not a parcel tae be passed about.”
“Aye, but I dislike my hand being forced like this. I’m going to arrive at church on Sunday, and half the congregation will be expecting Miss Brodure and myself tae tie the knot then and there.”
“Och, now you’re being a wee bit hysterical. Ye will simply meet Miss Brodure on Sunday, nothing more. I promise no one will force ye into matrimony.” Malcolm couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice. Though truly, Miss Brodure was so unutterably lovely, he couldn’t imagine any man not securing the vicar’s services on the spot. “Besides, you’ll have reinforcements. Leah sent word from Laverloch Castle that they will be attending Sunday services, as well.”
Their sister, Leah, had married Captain Fox Carnegie five years before. Given that Leah had been nearly forty at the time, her abrupt plunge into matrimony had raised some eyebrows. But her marriage to Fox had proved a happy one. Malcolm could not have conjured a better husband for his sister. They had two children—an adopted daughter, Madeline, and their own wee boy, Jack.
“Leah’s coming? No wonder Mrs. McGregor has been up baking shortbread and meat pies since dawn. I would have thought our older sister too sensible tae be caught up in the fervor around Miss Brodure.”
“She is,” Malcolm said with a grin. “Fox, however, is a devotee of Miss Brodure’s work. Leah says he is quite beside himself in eagerness tae meet her.”
Leah’s husband, Captain Fox Carnegie, seemed the least-likely person in Britain to read and admire Miss Brodure, but Malcolm supposed it spoke to the long reach of the authoress’s captivating novels.
Silence rested between the brothers for a moment. Malcolm knew better than to assume that Ethan was done with the matter.
After a pause, Ethan sighed again. “I suppose there is no help for it. Wee Tam Farquar saw Miss Brodure driving with her father two days ago and said she’s as fine a bird as he’s ever seen. And despite all his faults, Wee Tam isn’t the sort tae give such praise lightly.” Ethan lifted a foot atop Malcolm’s favorite footstool.
“I am sure Miss Brodure is more than the sum of her outward graces,” Malcolm said, swallowing back a jolt of that ever-present irritation. Why was Wee Tam looking at Miss Brodure anyway? “Like any woman, she contains a soul and heart and mind that should be carefully explored. I fear ye are behaving like a hunter—viewing her as a thing tae be bartered—when you should be donning the hat of an intrepid explorer.”
Ethan stilled, his eyes getting that far-away-pondering look. “Ye are behaving like a hunter, when you should be donning the hat of an intrepid explorer. . . I quite like that. May I use it?”
“Of course. And as for the rest—even with Kendall’s pressure and the relentless gossips—do not disparage the chance to get to know Miss Brodure.”
“Aye,” Ethan agreed, picking up the duke’s letter again. “Only a child refuses something simply because others wish him tae have it.”
That was a startling bit of self-awareness from Ethan.
“Besides, it helps that someone—” Ethan looked back to Malcolm, a teasing glint in his green eyes. “—has been encouraging me tae take the final step into manhood. Perhaps I will give it a try.”
“Do that. How goes the poem writing, anyway?” Malcolm asked.
Ethan groaned, sank back into the wingback chair—footstool scuffing the floor—and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. “As ye can see, I’m struggling tae find inspiration. Perhaps one book of poetry has simply dredged all the possible ideas out of me.”
“Ye will find your muse.” Malcolm turned back to his letter. “Perhaps it will even be Miss Brodure herself.”
“Hah!” Ethan chuckled. “If only I could be so lucky.”
Well . . .yes.
That was precisely how Malcolm wanted the situation with Miss Brodure to play out. She would help Ethan through his literary slump; they would fall in love and marry. Then Ethan and the new Mrs. Penn-LeithnéeBrodure would rise to even loftier heights of fame, supporting and loving—and, who knew, possibly editing—one another along the way.
Surely, any attraction Malcolm felt for the lady would die a cold death long before then.
He would see her at church—see her together with Ethan—and Malcolm would forget entirely that, for one brief, flitting instant, he had imagined himself as a different man.
A man who had never faced devastating loss.
A man who would consider winning Viola Brodure for himself.
5
God appeared to smile upon Malcolm’s plan, as Sunday dawned to encouragingly blue skies.
As promised, Leah and Fox along with their children, Madeline and Jack, made the long journey down the glen from Laverloch Castle to join Malcolm and Ethan for worship services.
They made a merry band, walking from Thistle Muir to the parish kirk, four-year-old Jack stopping every fifth step to pick up a rock that he insisted on dropping into the sporran hanging from the belt of Malcolm’s kilt.
They had intended to arrive early at the church, only to find that most of the parish had awakened with the same idea.
