“Spring at Royal Vale is a wondrous season.” She seemed wistful, though her smile offset it. “The blooming redbud and dogwood are so exquisite, words fail.”
He tried to think of something equally bonny about a Scots spring other than the infernal damp but came up empty.
She opened the curtain and looked out upon a landscape he could only describe as bleak, one arm about Cole. On the seat beside him lay the hobby horse.
Leith voiced what he’d been thinking ever since he’d first seen the toy. “In a few months they’ll be able to ride a Shetland pony on a lead rein.”
She turned back to him. “I’ve never heard of such. Are they a small breed?”
“Aye, from the Shetland Islands. No more than eleven hands high. Small but strong, intelligent, and docile. My grandfather saw to it that I had three before I was twelve.”
“Oh? What were their names?”
“Mungo, Burra, and Bressay.”
“Let me guess.” She looked at him intently. “Scottish names, all.”
“Aye.”
She turned pensive. “I know little about your childhood.”
“I survived it.”
She gave a little laugh. “As did I, obviously. I pray Bella and Cole do the same.”
He looked down at Bella, now drooling on his frock coat, before returning his gaze to Juliet. “Are you content to have nae children of your own?”
Her rosy expression told him the question was too bold. But it didn’t slow her response. “Rather, areyoucontent that I not?”
He didn’t answer. How could he without vexing them both further? He reached for the window and opened it. The rush of winter’s air did him good. But it didn’t settle the question, nor did it temper his suddenly perplexed mood.
They rode in silence the rest of the way to Glasgow.
44
I could bend you with my finger and my thumb ... But whatever I do with this cage, I cannot get at you, and it is your soul that I want.
Charlotte Brontë
The house was in a state of high excitement. Loveday’s debut was at hand, and sixteen new servants joined with Mrs. Baillie, Haskins, Ruby, and the other Virginia Street staff to make the occasion a shining success. Upstairs, Juliet heard the musical clock on her escritoire play eight bells as she adjusted Bella’s sash on her satin dress.
Minette moved to a window, her French accent heightened when she was delighted. “Coaches have lined up clear around the corner. I’ve never seen so many!”
Loveday swept in, as unpowdered and hoopless as Juliet, her violet taffeta skirts rustling. “We shall start a new American fashion, you and I.”
Cole abandoned the musical clock he was winding and raced over to his aunt Lovey, as he called her, raising his arms. She picked him up promptly despite Minette exclaiming about his crushing her gown. Finally Minette took himfrom Loveday and balanced him on a hip as Juliet finished with Bella and turned to her brother.
“Does Mr. Buchanan ken the bairns are to make an appearance?” Nurse asked, standing by the hearth.
Her distressed tone didn’t dim Juliet’s high mood. “I thought I might surprise him, Mrs. Davies. Make him proud.”
“And if they misbehave, Mrs. Buchanan? What then?”
“I shall take all the blame.” Juliet smiled to reassure her. Nurse had as many worries as wrinkles. “They shall only make a brief appearance, mostly to see their relatives.”
“Bonny.” Bella pointed to her tiny shoes embroidered with forget-me-nots.
“So very bonny,” Loveday agreed. “Très belle, as the French say.”
