“I know you all, Miss Wallace,” Francis stated, not unkindly. “Lord Heaton has already briefed me of everything he thought it prudent that I know.”
That caught Ava’s attention, distracting her from openly admiring the stately house. “Everything?” she asked. “And what would ‘everything’ entail?”
“Your names, physical description, background, and circumstances,” Francis stated.
Catriona blinked, masking her surprise as best as she could. “I see. I suppose that could entail everything indeed.”
“It certainly does.” Francis swiveled on the balls of his feet and began making his way up to the front door. “If you would follow me, I will take you to Lord Heaton. He is waiting for you in his study.”
Catriona followed, grateful that Ava did not make any comment as she did the same. She’d expected Maisie not to act too out of line upon her arrival, seeing that the youngest Wallace sister was rather soft-spoken, but Ava was a different story entirely. She held her tongue, however, as they were led into the pristine, ornately furnished foyer and down a long hallway before coming to a stop in front of a mahogany door. Francis knocked once.
“Come,” came a gravelly voice from within.
Catriona’s heart thudded against her chest as Francis opened the door and gestured that they enter. She did so first, eyes falling on leather chair with its back turned to them. She could see a head of white hair peeking over the top of the chair.
“Your guests have arrived, My Lord,” Francis informed.
A beat of silence went by with no movement, and then the person rose, standing far taller than Catriona expected.
The Earl of Heaton turned to face them, and Catriona couldn’t hide her look of surprise. He was certainly old. The white hair and thick white beard said as much. Even from the distance, she saw the deep wrinkles that lined his face. But despite his obvious age, he stood like a man twice his size with broad shoulders and a commanding presence. He didn’t smile, but Catriona could easily imagine that if he did, he would charm any lady he wished.
She recovered quickly, sinking into a curtsy just like her mother had taught her. “It is nice to meet you, Lord Heaton.”
At her sides, she saw her sisters do the same though they were a beat behind.
Lord Heaton said nothing, even when they straightened. He only stared at them, eyes narrowed, gaze running up and down their length. Catriona tried not to show her discomfort, ignoring that tiny piece of fear rising up her throat. Was this it? Did he already find their presence so displeasing that he no longer cared to take them in? Her father was Lord Heaton’s closest heir, after all, which was what she assumed led him to reach out to them in the first place. But had he realized he’d made a mistake?
“You look like your father.”
She blinked. The words were directed at her, but she couldn’t tell if he meant it in a good way. She stared at him for a few seconds, trying to determine the best way to respond.
Finally, she settled on, “I do.”
Lord Heaton shifted his eyes to Maisie, on Catriona’s left, then Ava, who stood on her right. “And you two look like your mother.”
“Only Maisie is not quite as beautiful as I,” Ava stated, and Catriona stiffened.
Maisie, so easily riled up when provoked by Ava, quickly shot back, “I am far more beautiful than you. And smarter.”
“But I’m quicker.”
“Not with numbers.”
“Who cares about numbers? Physical prowess has always been far more impressive.”
“Ava—” Catriona hissed.
“Can you ride a horse?”
She tucked her tongue in her cheek at her uncle’s question. He was looking at Ava, and yet her sister still pointed at herself and asked, “Are ye askin’ me?”
A piece of Catriona shriveled and died at the Scottish accent. This was it. He would cast them out, thinking them ill-suited for London society.
Lord Heaton raised a white brow and nodded.
Ava clasped her hands behind her, nodding proudly. “I can. I am the best of the three of us.”
“It isn’t a competition,” Maisie murmured under her breath, and Catriona prayed their uncle didn’t overhear.
