Lilah whispered to Clara. “Isn’t he a viscount?”
“Yes,” Clara said, equally quiet.
Fortunately, the exchange was buried under Lord Loughton’s muttered grumble of, “Pompous ass.” But then he spoke loudly. “It is me, your son, Liam, come with friends to show them the glory of your halls.”
“What friends?” asked the first servant.
“Do they appreciate the depth of the honor you request upon their behalf?” asked the second.
Clara was also close enough to hear Liam grind his teeth together. “It is your son who requests entrance. And as such, I vouch for my companions.”
Clara noted that he said nothing about appreciating the honor and all the rest. Like her, it appeared that Lord Loughton disliked the formality of whatever this was. However, her brother—who was just now exiting the carriage—was well used to pomp and circumstance.
“I am the Earl of Kittrel. This is my fiancé Miss Rees, and my sister, Lady Clara. We greet you with utmost respect and humbly request your tolerance as we visit your beautiful home.” He said nothing more, but he bowed as deeply as he would when greeting the Prince Regent. Beside him, Lilah curtseyed such that her knees cracked after the long time spent in the carriage. Clara didn’t see if Lord Loughton’s father eyed her, but she felt his eyes upon her as a heat upon her cheeks.
Normally, she would have given the barest sketch of a curtsey. She had no love for people who demanded nonsensical bowing and scraping and usually avoided them at all costs. But she had vowed to be extra polite, and so she curtseyed as well, keeping her head lowered even after she regained her full height.
There was a long ponderous wait that irritated Lord Loughton more than them, if the grinding of his teeth were anything to go by. She worried he’d break a tooth, but he said nothing. He simply stood beside her in the dimming light and stared at his father who presumably stared back. It was hard to tell with her eyes lowered, though she did sneak a peek.
Finally, the MacCleal spoke, his voice less full than she had anticipated from all the fanfare. “If my son vouches for you, then you shall be welcomed. Mairi will see to you.” And with that, he turned and stomped away.
It took a moment for him to disappear back into the depths of the castle, trailed as he was by the first and second servants, but eventually he was gone, and a woman stood in his stead. She was younger than Clara expected, though she wore the keys and the clothing of a chatelaine. Weren’t they normally older since they functioned as a housekeeper? Either way, the woman walked closer and dropped into a curtsey in front of Lord Loughton.
“Welcome back, my lord.”
“Mairi,” he said, his tone soft and warm. “You’ve grown into a beauty.” Then he pulled her into a rough hug which she returned.
“You always say that.”
“Because it’s always true.”
Mairi shrugged out of his grasp and glared hard at him. “I’ve been a woman grown for ten years now, and I’m past waiting for you to notice.”
He frowned at her. “I always noticed, Mairi, and I acted accordingly.”
There was a weariness in his tone that Clara heard but couldn’t explain. She could guess, of course, but she wasn’t good at that, so she kept her tongue. Instead, she smiled when Lord Loughton introduced her, then busied herself with studying her surroundings when the conversation became too thick with Scottish accents for her to follow.
She did catch that Mairi was actually Miss MacAdaidh, and she served as housekeeper—or chatelaine—to Viscount MacCleal. If there was a butler, Clara did not see him as she and Lilah were led up a tower to a third floor room that had a thin rug on the floor and a freshly made large bed. Presumably she and Lilah were to share. And though this was a very common practice among most everyone, Clara hadn’t ever shared a bed. Not even with her nanny.
She glanced at Lilah, who was thanking the servants bringing up their trunks on thick shoulders. Meanwhile Miss MacAdaidh was not one to dip her chin again. She directed the settling of the trunks then turned to face the ladies.
“I’ve set your maid in the south tower, but she’s feeling poorly. I doubt she’ll be much help tonight. I’ve found a maid to help you tomorrow morning, but there were none to spare tonight. Everyone’s getting ready for the games.” Her tone turned especially hard with that last sentence, but Clara had no idea why. “I’ll send a tray up for your dinner, but there’ll be no baths tonight. I canna set out a decent place for a ladies’ pleasure no matter what Liam says in his letter.” She lifted her chin. “You’ll find that the viscount is laird, but I am the one who directs the comings and goings throughout the castle. You’ll have everything you need, but I haven’t the time to waste on nonsense.”
That was a frank speech, and though Lilah appeared to be shocked enough that her jaw hung open, Clara found she appreciated being able to be blunt back.
“I’m not one for nonsense either. We’re perfectly capable of maiding each other, and I see water in the basin. Send up a simple tray, we shall be very well set indeed.”
“Good. But don’t use the chamber pot. Won’t be a soul to clean it out tomorrow. The garderobe is down through here, and you’ll not be running in there undressed. It’s the one that works best, so you’re not the only one to use it.”
Nothing to say to that except that the castle was cool enough that she wouldn’t want to go anywhere in a simple nightrail anyway. “Thank you—”
“The men will have their revels tonight. Nothing like tomorrow, but it will get rowdy enough. Don’t think to join them. I run a fine home here, and you’ll not be turning us common.”
“Common?” Clara echoed, her annoyance at the insult growing by the second. “And what—exactly—constitutes common behavior?”
The woman sniffed. “If you don’t know that, then you’re not the lady his lordship claims you are.” Then she gave the briefest of nods and walked out, all but slamming the door behind her.
Clara and Lilah traded arch looks.
“Well,” Lilah finally said on an exhale. “Lord Loughton did warn us they were a proud people.”
“He said gruff and angry,” she corrected, “which seems to match Miss MacAdaidh exactly.” He’d also said his people had a fierce spirit, a generous heart, and a wily way about them. She’d have to wait and see on that.
“We’re fine in here,” Lilah repeated as she bounced lightly on the bed. It appeared to be in relatively decent shape. “And tomorrow we will get a good look around.” She smiled. “I consider it a grand adventure.”
As adventures went, this didn’t compare to the lurid tales Clara had read in novels. Having to share a bed was hardly the equivalent of an abduction at gunpoint or being lost at sea. Even so, this was the most unusual place she’d ever stayed, and she had promised to reserve judgement as long as possible.
So she smiled at Lilah and declared it her experiment in castle living. And she wondered what Lord Loughton would be doing tonight in his manly “revels.”
