Here the twins occupied a nursery on the second floor. He pinned his gaze on the bank of windows that were theirs, imagining wee noses pressed to the panes. Their white-haired nurse, Mrs. Davies, had a time of it trying to corral them. Walking before they were a year old, Cole and Bella tested the mettle of anyone who had charge of them.
Leith and Niall continued up and over the decade-old elliptical bridge that straddled a watercourse, the clatter of hooves atop stone loud enough to hear at the house. Their approach from the bridge soon gave way to an avenue of lime trees curving uphill past stone outbuildings.
Two grooms appeared to take their horses to the stables, and then Leith and Niall walked the short distance to the mansion’s wide steps. The front door opened before they reached it, another example that this grand house of hisran as smoothly as the eight longcase clocks that graced the entrance hall, all chiming the hour at exactly the same time. A frightful racket, Euan always said. He had but one clock in Paisley’s entrance hall.
“Messrs. Buchanan, welcome home.” The senior footman gave a little bow and took their tricornes as Leith’s gaze swept the space, the marble interior brightened by large south-facing windows.
They climbed the oak staircase, alert to childish voices. The second-floor east wing was a series of ancillary rooms, and they passed through open doors, first the children’s dining area, then another room of cupboards and closets, even a future schoolroom. The nursery bedchamber was at the very end, a calm, spacious place presided over by the nurse, who was now dozing in her antechamber chair by a coalless hearth.
Walking past her, Leith found what he was looking for. Staring back at him warily was Cole, the gimlet-eyed image of Havilah. Asleep in the narrow bed opposite him was Bella, a toy unicorn clutched in one arm, Leith’s stamp so strong in her she seemed his miniature except for her riotous hair. Both children had dimples in their impossibly plump cheeks as if they subsisted on marzipan and nothing else.
When Leith stopped in the room’s center, Niall kept walking, holding out his arms. A smiling Cole began a clumsy climb down from the bed. Roused, Bella abandoned her toy and soon followed as if determined to be scooped up first, their childish babble amusing.
Putting a finger to his lips, Leith gestured to the slumped, half-snoring nurse. “Nae doubt you’ve both worn her out.”
Niall caught up the twins in thickset arms, remarking on their sun-darkened faces and loose, linen clothes smelling of fresh air and line-drying. They were to have morning and afternoon airings barring the foulest weather, Leith hadinsisted from birth, and be fed as much meat as bread. He’d not rear the twins like hothouse flowers.
Bella nestled closer, resting her head on Niall’s shoulder, while Cole ran a wee hand over his uncle’s clean-shaven jaw, reminding Leith he hadn’t shaved that morn.
“Soon you’ll ken the aggravation of a razor,” Leith murmured to the lad.
Bella looked up at Leith with a solemn regard as if chastening him for his latest absence. Tearing his gaze from her, he sought a chair as Niall started his usual tickling. With a shriek, Cole gave a kick to Niall’s shins, which he answered by turning the lad upside down as if to silence him. At the outburst, Mrs. Davies awoke and dashed into the room with the fleet feet of a much younger lass.
“Sir, I beg yer pardon for a rare nap.”
Leith regarded her without reply, wondering if so aged a woman was up to the task.
“Rare?” Niall answered. “I’d hope you take one every time they do lest they wear you to a nub.”
She smiled despite looking shamefaced. “I’ve the best job in the world, sir, naps or nae.”
Righting Cole, Niall took a chair near a window while Mrs. Davies began opening the shutters to emit daylight. Enthroned upon his uncle’s lap, Cole seemed to settle while Bella crossed the Axminster carpet to a wooden castle complete with knights of the Round Table and even a princess or two.
“’Tis good to see ye both,” Mrs. Davies continued, looking at Leith. “Are ye here for long, sir?”
Leith took a breath and leaned back in his chair. “I leave in a fortnight on theThistle.”
Never one to mind his bluntness, for she was a Scotswoman through and through, she said, “Where to, sir?”
“Maryland and Virginia. I need to see to my holdingsthere ... and other business.” He wouldn’t mention any matrimonial leanings, though she’d been remarkably outspoken since Havilah’s death about the bairns needing a mother.
Done with the shutters, she faced him, hands on hips. “When will ye return, sir?”
“By Candlemas, likely.”With a bride.
Though he omitted the latter, he read surprise in her eyes. He’d miss the twins’ autumn birthday by his lengthy absence. But surely she could sense how weary he was of the scandal. The endless speculation. Since he didn’t want them to grow up without a mother, or with a mother like his, he had to do something, even something rash.
“And ye’ll be here till ye sail, sir?”
“I’ll attend Euan’s assembly tomorrow night at Paisley, then I’ll return to Glasgow ahead of the sailing.”
As if in protest of her father’s words, Bella dashed a wooden knight over Cole’s head, eliciting his howl of rage. Facing off like wee boxers, they made their uncle laugh, two tubby, defiant bairns who knew no better.
“Easy, lad and lassie,” Leith said, warning in his tone.
They looked toward him, both pouting, their eyes bright with tears. Realizing his gruffness, Leith froze.Comfort them, mon.But he felt shackled, unable to break free of that terrible reserve that bound him. A better parent would ken how to soothe their fractured feelings, even if he didn’t.
Niall proved the blessed balm for the moment. Leith watched him, rubbed raw with regret over all their circumstances. Niall remained unwed, and Euan and his wife of five years were childless.
