“Mrs. Blackburn is a married lady, Aunt,” Amy said.
“A widow,” Christina Blackburn corrected softly. Aedan frowned, remembering her discomfort with that topic last night; her late husband had broken his promise to keep his paintingof her private. That, Aedan thought, did not speak well of the husband.
“I am so sorry to hear it,” Meg murmured.
“Thank you, Lady Strathlin. Might I add, since my brother has said too much about me,” Christina said, “that he is a brilliant artist. His portraits are beautifully rendered.”
“Ah, the Blackburn family of artists!” Meg smiled. “I own a beautiful seascape by another Blackburn, a celebrated artist who was older, and gone now. Was he a relation?”
Christian nodded. “Our father, aye. He did a series of seascapes over the years. It is so good to know that you enjoy his work.”
“We have three Blackburn artworks in this house too,” Aedan said. “A rather dramatic history painting of Queen Mary Stuart at her devotions, done by your father, and a very good scene of Robert the Bruce at his coronation. The third is, ah, in my study.”
“Thatone is quite improper,” Amy said.
Aedan saw Mrs. Blackburn cast her brother a frantic look. John frowned.
“The picture of Robert the Bruce is very nice,” Amy said. “Did your father paint that one too?”
“Is it Robert the Bruce and Isabella of Buchan?” John said. “I painted that one.”
“You!” Aedan smiled in delight. “How marvelous! It’s an excellent piece.”
“Thank you. I did not know it was here. I, ah, do not keep very careful records. It was a few years ago, and I think it was sold at an exhibition.”
“Aye. It was one of the last paintings my father bought,” Aedan said.
“Oh, Aedan, you must ask Mr. Blackburn to paint the walls!” Amy exclaimed.
“With bucket and brush?” John shrugged. “I could do that.”
“Your talents would be wasted, sir,” Aedan said. “We have an unfinished mural in the dining room, started by a fellow who sadly died. Perhaps you could look at it. I wonder if you would be interested in finishing it at some point.”
“Mr. Blackburn would do a far better job than what’s there,” Lady Balmossie said.
“I agree,” Aedan said.
John smiled. “I would be happy to consider it.”
“What luck!” Amy said. “Would you like to see it now, Mr. Blackburn? I can take you there while Lady Strathlin shows Mrs. Blackburn the library. Aedan, will you come too?”
“It seems I have a prior engagement with Miss Thistle,” Aedan drawled, for the monkey had skimmed down the curtain while they were chatting and had just leaped to Aedan’s shoulder. He rubbed her head while she chittered and pulled on his ear. “Dear Miss Thistle, I am fond of you, too. But let go,” he murmured, chuckling.
“Rogue,” Amy teased. “The laird of Dundrennan never allows himself to be smitten.”
“Luckily we are perfectly safe from the affection of monkeys,” Aedan said.
“The lairds of Dundrennan are cursed,” Amy told the Blackburns. “It is just a tale.”
“Cursed?” Christina Blackburn asked.
Lady Balmossie leaned forward. “They do say the lairds o’ Dundrennan must never wed for love. ’Tis nonsense, I think, but our kinsmen have believed it for generations.”
“Oh, dear,” Christina said, looking startled.
“It is nonsense, surely,” Aedan said, standing, monkey on his shoulder. “But we so tend to avoid the pitfalls of true love. Only sentimentalists like that sort of thing.” He said it lightly as hedetached the monkey to set her on tall stand. Fixing her tiny ankle with a small chain, he fed her an apple slice from a bowl.
“Good! Now you are free to come with me to the dining room,” Amy said.
