“Your uncle means well. He has even tried to find you a suitable husband. Someone decent, a man who would provide for you, give youchildren.”
“I did not care for those men. They were nice enough, but…” Ophelia pressed a hand to her cheek, trying to suppress tears. “I could not imagine being married to any ofthem.”
“Ah, well…” Her aunt sighed. “Sometimes a woman has little choice. “Respectability and the relief from worry are good reasons towed.”
“Iunderstand.”
“Doyou?”
“Of course.” Ophelia turned from the window. She did her best not to dash at her eyes again, couldn’t allow tears to slipfree.
She wouldn’t showweakness.
Aunt Sarah would pounce if she did, quickly summoning every available – and uninspiring, if reputable – suitor in all of northeastern Scotland, simply to get her out of KettleHouse.
Sadly, she had nowhere else togo.
So she stood taller, squared her shoulders, and drew a long, spine-strengthening breath. She also kept her chin raised, her gaze steady on the olderwoman’s.
“Did Uncle Irwin see meleaving?”
“You were not seen at all. That was your mistake. You knew Rosie the laundress would be bringing her cat’s kittens this evening. We’d agreed to choose one to join our kitchenmousers.
“I am aware of your great love of animals.” Aunt Sarah’s voice softened again. “You would not have missed helping select akitten.
“So-o-o…” She glanced at the window. “I must wonder what drew you out into the cold, mist-drenched night? Word of a dog roaming the streets, a beast needing a meaty beef rib? A baby duck lost and requiring a reunion with its mother? Or perhaps you wished to follow your other interests? As it is Hallowe’en, perhaps you thought to pay a visit one or more of Aberdeen’s haunted sites? That is what your uncle will think if he hears ofthis.”
“He doesn’tknow?”
“I told him you were abed with an aching stomach. So tell me the truth. As long as a man wasn’t involved, I will make certain he believes that wasso.”
“You already guessed why I went out,” Ophelia admitted, feeling a stab of guilt for not mentioning the rogue. Just the thought of him made heat bloom on her cheeks. Mercy, she could still feel the knee-melting thrill of hiskiss.
“So what was it?” Her aunt was watching her carefully. “Animals, magic, orspecters?”
“Ghosts. I went to look for the phantom lovers in St. Nicholas Kirkyard. They are said to only appear on SamhainEve.”
“Did you seethem?”
“No.”
“I am not surprised.” Aunt Sarah shook her head, clearly not a believer. “But you did see something. Whatever it was, it caused you to flee, tearing your shawl in yourhaste.”
“That is surely so.” Ophelia glanced at the black-gleaming window, the panes streaked with rain. How unnecessary that one of the rivulets just had to make a slight curve, reminding her of the small, crescent scar on Greyson Merrick’scheekbone.
How bothersome that he had such a roguishly appealingname.
Her heart skittering, Ophelia drew another steadying breath. “Cook and a few other ladies arrived and I ran, not wanting them to see me.” It wasn’t the entire truth, but near enough. “I had to scramble over the burial ground’s back wall. It was the only way to leave without passing thewomen.”
Her aunt nodded. “Resourceful, as always,” she said, sounding almostpleased.
Highland folk alwaysare.
That, too, Ophelia kept to herself. Her aunt was also Highland-born and she didn’t wish to appear surly. Doing so would only spur her aunt’s urgings for her towed.
Most recently, she’d suggested one of the sons of Uncle Irwin’s colleague, Everley Dudding. Like Ophelia’s uncle, Mr. Dudding was a clerk at a shipping company. He was a perfectly respectable man – as were his sons. But aside from being English, something that did not bother her at all, though she would prefer a Scottishhusband…
The Duddings bored her totears.
