40
You will never know a man until you do business with him.
Scottish proverb
Leith came downstairs and went into the small dining room for breakfast, the papers arrayed atop the table for his perusal. Edinburgh’sCaledonian Mercury, its front page dominated by foreign affairs, didn’t seem to care much about him, but Glasgow certainly did. News of his return was featured prominently, though one particular boldface line caught his eye.
TOBACCOKINGOFLANARKSHIREWEDSAMERICANINDIGOHEIRESS
TheGlasgow Courantwaxed on about the extraordinarily beautiful Juliet Catesby, who had been seen stepping out around the city, her custom coveted at the most desirable city shops.
Flaxen-haired and fair of face, the queen of Lanarkshire has been seen with a retinue of servants.
He sat down, mildly amused but more aggravated. They were describing Loveday. As for a retinue of servants, Minette hardly qualified, and Juliet didn’t look the part.
Mrs. Baillie swept in, armed with both a coffeepot and a teapot. “Coffee this morning, sir?”
“Aye,” he replied. “Is Mrs. Buchanan awake yet?”
“Yes, sir, since dawn, and at her new desk. Miss Catesby remains abed.”
He looked at his large breakfast absently, wanting company. Should he go up and ask Juliet to join him? Send Mrs. Baillie instead? The awkwardness of it had him stabbing a sausage and ignoring the impulse. He’d been dining alone for a long time. Why should today be any different? Besides, she’d be residing at Ardraigh Hall soon while he’d remain here.
Their time aboard ship brought a strange nostalgia. Sick unto death he’d been but salved by her continual presence. And now an entire city and mansion divided them. He sensed a dismay in her that bordered on awe at her new surroundings. Virginia Street was a far cry from Virginia. He’d not considered the impression it would have on her.
Before breakfast was done, he heard faint music coming from the drawing room across the hall. An oddity. Lyrica played the harpsichord, and it had been her suggestion he have one for entertaining. As Mrs. Baillie poured him a second cup of coffee, he wondered who the musician was. He knew so little about either Juliet or her sister he couldn’t decide. Nor would he investigate.
Finishing his coffee, he got up to grab his cane and cape before heading to the plainstanes in the square.
Juliet heard Leith leave and traded the harpsichord for the drawing room’s window that fronted the street. She’d hopedby coming downstairs she might bump into him or pique his curiosity about her playing, but both had come to naught. Leaning into the sill, she traced his fading silhouette with her eyes. The brisk stride. The silky queued hair beneath his cocked hat that trailed between his shoulder blades. The swirl of his crimson coat in the wind. The grip on his cane.
Have a profitable day, Husband.
Bending her head, she uttered a little prayer for him. And for herself. She had no heart for more playing so decided to take another tour of the rooms, including his own, which she’d not yet seen. Up the stairs she went nearly on tiptoe, wanting to evade the servants, even Loveday, should she be awake.
Her heart beat fast as she came to his door. She turned the knob and stepped inside, leaving the door cracked open. At once the essence of Leith enfolded her as her eyes adjusted to the darkness and the room’s details. A four-poster bed crowned with a canopy was hung with blue and tan damask. Window shutters were closed against the cold, but she saw well enough that this was a masculine, spartan place. While no expense had been spared on her bedchamber or any of the other rooms, his was surprisingly austere.
A desk sat beneath one window, inkwell, sealing wax, and several quills in perfect order. A letter lay unfinished. To Nathaniel Ravenal? She looked down at the bold, decisive strokes, struck by a qualm at trespassing.
We have arrived safely in Glasgow as of 16th February. All are in good health and spirits. I cannot thank you enough for your Virginia hospitality and your help with the former Miss Catesby. She proved a fine sailor and cared for me unfailingly on the cruise. We hit a gale—or rather a gale hit us—near Ireland, but instead of limping into port it pushed us along.
She read on, captivated, finding him more open and engaging in prose than he allowed himself to be in person.
I trust in time my matrimonial endeavors will prove me a faithful, caring husband in every respect. But I am yet unsure if my new bride will ever
Her heart caught at the words as a lump knotted her throat. Such a poignant half sentence. What had he been thinking? Was it too hard for him to finish?
She moved to the bed, leaned over, and placed her cheek against his pillow, the linen smooth against her skin. This, too, held his scent. The few paintings on the wall, the globes—one terrestrial and the other celestial—the rugs and fire screen, all bespoke a world she had no part of. The only nod to embellishment in the entire room was the marble fireplace. It reminded her of one in the governor’s palace in Williamsburg and invited her to stay. She sank down in a leather armchair within its scarlet, heat-drenched circle. Above the mantel was a seascape featuring a ship at sail remarkably like theGlasgow Lass.
She sighed and yawned all at once. Thought longingly of home. The chiming of a longcase clock brought her to her senses. As did the sight of a small black chest to the right of the hearth. It bore painted flowers in vibrant hues, the only adornment in the thoroughly masculine room. She went to it, knelt, and ran a hand over its lovely lines. Curiosity prompted her to lift the lid. Firelight flickered over a tasseled red shawl and a number of newspaper clippings within.
She hesitated, not wanting to disturb anything. Had this been his late wife’s trunk? She took out the papers and held them nearer the light. Leith’s name was printed, as was Havilah’s.Havilah.Such a lovely, biblical forename.Details about her death consumed the front page. Juliet read a few lines, nearly forgetting she trespassed. What would borrowing the papers hurt if once she read them she put them back?
She left Leith’s room reluctantly, pockets full of the papers, then checked on Loveday to find her dressing before she went below to a meeting with Mrs. Baillie and a few of the upper servants. All the while she wondered...
How did they take to their unexpected American mistress?
She entered the austere servants’ hall. Half a dozen servants were gathered round the long table, the latest account book open and waiting. Juliet greeted them, trying to remember names and stations. She’d written them down, but the list remained on her desk upstairs.
