“No,” he answered. “You’ve done nothing wrong. I just need you to give me some space when I ask for it.”
He wasted no time leading her back to Gwendolen, who was sitting with Angus at the head table.
“We’ll be leaving for Edinburgh in the morning,” Lachlan said to them.
“So soon?” Gwendolen replied.
Lachlan turned his heated gaze to Catherine and let go of her hand. “Aye. Lady Catherine must meet her twin. There are questions she needs answered, and then, she must be returned to her family.”
No one dared suggest that he had hisownreasons to meet Raonaid again.
“Good night, Lady Catherine,” he said, bowing to her. “I will leave you in the care of our hosts.”
With that, he strode away and left her standing there, shaken and disoriented, until she felt Gwendolen’s hand on her arm.
“Please join us. Warm sweetbreads are on their way.”
“No, thank you,” she shakily replied. “You are very kind to offer, but I must retire for the night. I will need my rest for the journey in the morning.”
She watched Lachlan leave the Great Hall and was about to follow him out when Angus spoke up.
“What about your letter to your family?” he asked. “They must know you are safe.”
She swallowed uneasily. “Yes, of course. I will write to my grandmother tonight, and I will tell her that I am on my way to Edinburgh. If you could see to its delivery…”
“I will,” the Lion replied. “Sleep well, Lady Catherine.”
“And the same to you, sir. Your kindness will not be forgotten.”
Chapter Nineteen
Drumloch Manor
John Montgomery handed his horse and riding crop over to a groomsman and strode purposefully back to the house. He had just come from the magistrate’s office in the village and learned that they were calling off the search for Catherine. There had only been one clue about her disappearance—her possible stay at an inn on the first night of her capture. Beyond that, the magistrate implied that she had simply disappeared into the mist, which was not an uncommon occurrence when a Highlander was involved. The magistrate had suggested that John hire a few resourceful men who knew their way around the north country.
Quite ridiculously, the man seemed to think there was some mysticism involved, but John knew better. The Highlander who had abducted Catherine had known something. Either he had information about her whereabouts over the past five years or he knew something about this family—perhaps what John’s great-aunt refused to reveal.
John pulled his gloves off and slapped them against his thigh as he climbed the steps. The front door opened a few seconds before he reached it, and he found himself stopping under the wide portico, staring at his butler as if he were seeing him for the first time. John observed the man’s tall, thin frame and his neatly combed white hair.
“How long have you been at Drumloch, Smythe?” he asked, stepping inside and removing his hat. “Forever, it would seem.”
“Not quite that long, my lord. I began here in ’86.”
“That’s long enough. It’s thirty-five years.”
“Indeed, my lord.”
John watched him steadily. “Follow me, then. I have questions to ask.”
John led the way into the library. “Close the door, Smythe. Very good. Now what secrets do you know about this household—specifically in regards to Lady Catherine, and her disappearance five years ago? She is about to turn five-and-twenty, and will come into her inheritance, but if she is not alive at that time, the funds will be forfeited to the Jacobite cause, and we cannot have that.” He studied the butler with suspicious eyes. “I understand you were very devoted to my uncle, the former earl.” He paused. “I also know that he was a staunch supporter of King James and his claim to the throne, but those days are gone, Smythe. You must know that. It is a hopeless cause and I do not wish to see this family’s fortune lost to it. This is a Hanover house now, and we are loyal to King George. So tell me what you know. There must be gossip below stairs. There always is. Where is Lady Catherine? Where would she go, and what the bloody hell is my aunt hiding from me?”
The butler went white as a sheet but quickly recovered his composure and spoke with indifference. “I regret to say that I know nothing, my lord. Lady Catherine’s disappearance five years ago remains a mystery to us all, and if the dowager is hiding something from you… I daresay she has always been very discreet about family matters. There has never been any talk of secrets or gossip of any kind below stairs. With respect, my lord, I do not permit such indiscretions.”
John had no doubt that Smythe would manage the servants with a firm hand, and that Aunt Eleanor would not likely confide in him. John doubted she would confide in anyone.
“The housekeeper…,” he said on a whim. “How long has Mrs. Silver been serving this family?”
“Longer than I have, my lord. She began in the kitchen, but established herself at a young age and has risen accordingly.”
