Lord Heaton continued staring at Ava, his brows lowering slowly into a frown. And then, just when Catriona thought they were about to be shoved back into their carriage and sent back to Scotland, he burst out into laughter.
She blinked, sharing looks of confusion with her sisters.
“You might look like your mother,” he observed, “but you are your father’s daughter. You all are. I can see Edward in every one of you.”
Catriona didn’t allow herself to breathe just yet, didn’t give in to the relief coursing through her body. “I was not under theimpression that you knew our father very well, My Lord, even when I wrote to you.”
“I knew him well enough for him to have left an impression,” Lord Heaton explained as he approached. “And please, call me Frederic. I don’t care for the title enough to have my three nieces speaking it so formally to me.”
He came to stop in front of Catriona. She stared up at him, not knowing what to say. He was so unlike what she’d expected that?—
He pulled her into an embrace. Catriona stiffened in his arms, eyes growing wide.
“Welcome to Heaton Manor, girls,” Frederic said. She felt him reach out, and then her sisters were there, enveloping him as well. It was warm. The last time she’d felt the warmth of a fatherly embrace was days before her father had succumbed to his fever. Tears rushed to her eyes.
“Welcome to your new home.”
CHAPTER 1
London, 1811
“Give it back!”
Catriona winced, but her fingers didn’t falter, flying across the keys of the pianoforte with easy precision. At her feet, her three-year-old cocker spaniel, Nina, lifted her head as Ava stormed past, Maisie quick on her heels.
“It isn’t yours!” Maisie shrieked, basically throwing herself at Ava to snatch the bonnet out of her hand. “It only looks like yours.”
“Oh, it only looks like mine? How convenient. And I suppose the satin slippers I found in your bedchamber simply looked like mine as well.”
“They did! So does every other slipper of every other lady in London. Surely, you don’t think you are so creative and unique that you are the only one to possess such a style of footwear.”
“I am certainly more unique than you.”
Maisie let out a grunt of frustration, stomping her foot. Catriona thinned her lips. She kept playing, but her eyes remained on her bickering sisters who were shouting so loudly at each other that they must certainly be heard by passers-by outside.
And then to make matters worse, the dogs chimed in. Gemma, who sat by Frederic’s feet, began barking first then Culver from his spot next to the hearth. Only Nina remained quiet, even as she watched everything carefully.
“Give it back!” Maisie screamed again and lunched for the bonnet. Ava, being just a few inches taller and far quicker, side-stepped her easily, nearly making Maisie slip to the ground.
“Not until you admit that you have been stealing from my armoire,” Ava stated, marching away.
“I will admit no such thing.”
“Then I shan’t allow you to borrow my bonnet.”
“And I don’t need you to since it is not yours to lend.” Maisie made another attempt to grab at it, and she landedunceremoniously in the couch right next to Frederic, who was unperturbed by their noisy argument.
In fact, he was reading the morning newspaper, paying them very little mind. Catriona couldn’t tell if it was because he was naturally unbothered or because he’d gotten quite hard of hearing in the past year. She wouldn’t be surprised if their shouting sounded like normal conversation to him though their actions clearly indicated otherwise.
“Cat!” Maisie wailed, whipping around to face her. “Can’t you insist that Ava stop this? She is always trying to make it seems as if I do everything she does.”
“That’s because you do!” Ava shot out. She danced behind the couch where Frederic sat ignoring them, taunting Maisie by waving the bonnet. “And this is proof.”
“Catriona!” Maisie called again.
Catriona purposely missed a key, the sharp sound ringing through the drawing room. The dogs ceased their barking, and her sisters quieted, all eyes on her.
She stayed utterly still, hands still poised over the keys. Catriona drew in one slow breath then another, but it was not enough to quell her annoyance.
