Douglas left the carriage first, nodding to the man who’d opened the carriage door. Unlike the servants of Chavensworth, he was not dressed in livery and, also unlike the servants of Chavensworth, he stared back. There was no subservient lowering of the eyes here. The man was as curious about Douglas as Douglas was about Kilmarin.
He turned and held his hand out to Sarah. She placedhers on top of it and allowed him to help her down the steps. She spent some time fluffing up her skirts, but he could tell that she was also using the moments to look around and get her bearings. Kilmarin was awe-inspiring from a distance. Up close, it was even more amazing.
He had never been here himself, had only heard about Kilmarin as a boy—how there was a dungeon rumored to be below the main structure, and how a young boy ghost haunted the Great Hall.
Kilmarin was proving to be the equal of his childhood stories.
Shields were displayed on all four pillars of the porte cochere. Not baronial shields that might reveal a man’s coat of arms, but shields that looked as if they had been used in actual battles, round, thickly plated, and dented in several areas.
An arched door led to what was evidently the interior of the castle. As he turned, extended his arm to Sarah, the door opened.
By Douglas’s calculations, Donald Tulloch must have been in his seventies. He’d thought to find him ailing, a man near death. The man who greeted them held a cane in his right hand, but he brandished it more like a weapon than an aid for walking.
Once, he’d probably been taller than Douglas, but age had shrunk him. His shoulders curved toward his chest, and his knees were bent as if unable to support his weight, skeletal though it was. A thick mass of white hair hung to his shoulders, and his face, long and narrow, was lined and weathered. The blue eyes that peered out from beneath bushy white eyebrows, however, were surprisingly alert.
For several long minutes, he and Sarah stared at each other, neither speaking.
Finally, Douglas stepped forward and because Sarah had taken his arm, she was forced to either drop it or come with him. They approached her grandfather with slow, measured steps, stopping a few feet from Donald.
“Thank you for agreeing to see us,” he said.
“Who are you?” he asked in a voice that sounded scratchy and unused.
“Douglas Eston,” he said.
Before he could introduce Sarah, she stepped forward.
“I am Lady Sarah Eston,” she said, in the most regal tone he’d ever heard her use. “My mother was the Duchess of Herridge.”
Donald was quicker than his gatekeeper. He tapped the end of the cane against the flagstone floor. As if it were a signal, everyone around them fell silent.
“My daughter is dead?” he asked.
Sarah straightened, facing down the old man.
“My mother is dead,” Sarah replied.
Donald Tulloch nodded. A moment later, he turned, and slowly walked into Kilmarin.
Douglas put his hand on Sarah’s arm as her grandfather vanished into the interior of Kilmarin. As a strategy, it was a fine one. They didn’t know if they’d been dismissed or welcomed.
The storm had not abated; the day was advanced, and he was damned if he was going to allow Donald Tulloch to banish them so summarily.
Like it or not, Kilmarin had some visitors.
Douglas turned to the young man who’d opened the carriage door. “Have our trunks directed to our room and find someone who can show us our accommodations.” Before the young man could speak, Douglasheld up his hand. “I will also need arrangements for my coachman, and my wife’s maid.”
“I’ll see that it’s done. They’ll be treated with Scottish hospitality.”
Douglas turned to find that Robert had followed them.
He nodded to the other man, then glanced over at Tim. “Send me word if you need anything,” he said.
Tim nodded. “I will, sir.” He looked around at the gathering of people under the porte cochere. From his expression, Tim was feeling a little overwhelmed by all the Scots.
“We haven’t fought a battle with the English for a good hundred years, Tim,” Douglas said, both as a reassurance to Tim and a reminder to the Tullochs who surrounded them.
A young girl stood at the doorway, her arrival evidently a signal for the others to disperse. One by one, they melted away into the storm.
