The first time he’d entered the place, he’d braced himself to find plenty who believed themselves better than him. Delicate ladies and elegant gentlemen, all sniffing their disdain at the large Scotsman in their midst.
Glancing down the length of his black wool coat, Mungo found his polished boots beneath dark gray trousers. He was as respectable as any gentleman. Bram had made sure of it.
“You’ve a right to walk anywhere, and I’ll not have you believing otherwise,”his friend had said the day they’d set foot back on English soil many years ago.
Mungo hadn’t believed him, but he’d worn the clothing Bram had insisted upon to make his friend happy.
He opened the door, and a set of chimes tinkled above his head as he stepped into the warmth.
Tables dotted the place, and surprisingly, it was full, even considering the foul weather outside. The murmur of chatter and scents of the guests mingled with the delicious smells of baking. Mungo’s mouth watered. He was a big man and needed constant nourishment, plus he enjoyed eating, like most of those he lived with.
Searching the small room, he found his niece’s red hair. Fenella was seated in the corner to his left with her maid. She saw him and smiled, and the tightness inside Mungo eased. She’d made it here safely today.
Fenella was going home soon.The thought actually hurt his chest.
Nodding to guests as he moved between them, he reached her in seconds.
“Uncle Mungo!” She rose and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him hard, which she’d done since their firstencounter. He’d gotten used to it and even hugged her back now.
He inhaled her scent and committed it to memory, as there was every chance he’d not see her again after today. Orange blossoms,he thought. Forever would that smell be associated with Fenella, the family member who had sought him out when no one else had.
“Sit, I have ordered enough food for four grown men, so that should satisfy you.” She took his hand, waving him into a seat at the table where her maid already sat.
Fenella had his brother’s coloring and some of his mannerisms. That had been hard to get used to when he’d first seen her.
“Hello, Polly.” Mungo sat after his niece had done the same. He acknowledged the maid, who he’d also come to know in the past five months.
“Good day to you, Mr. Fraser.”
“What happened to your face, Polly?” A bruise marred her left cheek, and her lip was swollen.
“I-I—I fell down the stairs.”
The fact that she didn’t meet Mungo’s eyes when she spoke told him otherwise.
“Did a man give you that?”
She shook her head, wide-eyed and now clearly nervous.
“I asked her that, and she wouldn’t tell me the truth either,” Fenella said. “It happened the day she went to check in with the agency Father employed her through when he was in London.”
“I didn’t know your father came to London,” Mungo said, unsure how he felt about the fact he could have walked straight into his brother. Highly unlikely with the number of people here, but even so, the thoughtwas an unsettling one. He addressed the maid once more. “Who did this to you, lass?”
“It was merely a fall.” She said the words to the plate before her.
Mungo met his niece’s eyes, but she simply shrugged as if to say they’d both tried. He knew when someone had been hurt by another, and Polly had been that, but he could do nothing about it if she’d not tell him who.
“How did you hurt your hand, Uncle?” Fenella asked, noting the handkerchief he’d wrapped around it.
“’Tis of no consequence. Just an encounter with a fool, and nothing more.”
“’Tis our last meeting,” Fenella said instead of pushing for more information. “I long to see my family and Scotland.”
“Aye, I’m sure you do.”
A note had arrived at the Nightingale home a few months ago, and it had readI am your niece, and want to meet you, please, Uncle Mungo.There had been a date, time, and location.
His mother had always known where he was, and clearly it had been she who had given that information to Fenella.
