“Thank you. I thought to walk, but John is not comfortable with rugged walking.”
He nodded. “May I ask if his injury is temporary, or more permanent?”
“He was in the Crimea. Injured at Balaclava,” she answered quietly. “He has regained some of his strength and abilities, and we hope for further recovery.”
“I see.” He set down the envelope in his hand. “My older brother was at Sebastopol,” he said. “He did not return.”
“Oh, I am so sorry,” she breathed.
He fought a sudden, unexpected onslaught of grief triggered by the tenderness in her tone. “Well,” he said. “Well. As we were saying, I would be happy to take you and Mr. Blackburn out to Cairn Drishan. You may walk another time, or you can take ponies if you wish. We keep garrons for hill terrain. If you need to see the hill again,” he added.
“I expect to visit it several times to prepare a report for Sir Edgar.”
“I was surprised he sent you here rather than coming here himself.”
“Because I am female?” She sat straighter, backbone curving away from the chair. “Sir Edgar intends to come here as soon as he is free, if that eases your doubts about my expertise and authority.”
“I do not doubt your ability, madam,” he said quickly. “You may well be more competent than Edgar. When does he intend to arrive?”
“He has gone down to London, so I cannot quite say.” She had a few bites of fruit and then eggs, each movement neat and prim. Aedan watched the food enter her lips, then summoned better focus.
“Either way, madam, you may find little of interest on Cairn Drishan. We uncovered an old stone wall, but that is common enough. It may be a boundary wall and not very old.”
“Sir Edgar says that Pictish ruins are in this area, and so he wants to be sure.”
“I have seen it, and I assure you it is quite ordinary.” He tapped his fingers on the stack of envelopes. “I was there when my work crew blasted in that section.”
“Blasting? I hope nothing was destroyed.”
“Only what we intended to do—clear a section of rock out of the way. I am a civil engineer for the Highland Highways project in this region, doing work for the Parliamentary Commissioners of Roads and Highways.”
Her eyes widened. “Sir Edgar said you were an engineer, but I did not know you worked with the Parliamentary Commission. I understand the Prince Consort works closely with the Commission in the interest of promoting tourism and healthy industry in Scotland.”
“Aye. It is a good scheme, though some feel more roads and railways and such will spoil Scotland. But whatever increases Scotland’s finances and provides work for Highlanders down on their luck is the better direction in my opinion.”
“I agree. But would you want to see tourists here at Dundrennan?”
“I am glad to build much-needed roads. But I would rather not see uninvited visitors treading over my lands in search of the romantic Highlands. My father would have thrown our doors open to the public, for he always believed Dundrennan was a historic treasure. That may be, but I prefer privacy.”
“Yet you build a public road through your property,” she pointed out. Taking another delicate bite of breakfast, she set the fork down.
“The estate and the deed are mine. But most of the land in Scotland actually belongs to the Crown. The landowner’s permission is a legal formality. So Parliament takes precedence in matters like public roads. And the route would need to cross my property regardless. At least this way I have a say in just how it cuts across my property.”
“What if the wall you found proves to be a national treasure? You cannot deny access to it in that case.”
“I believe, Miss Antiquarian, you will find that wall a disappointment. We found no treasure hoard, no carvings, nothing to mark it as an ancient site.”
“According to the law of treasure trove, the National Museum must evaluate any discovery that might be historical, even if it appears to be ordinary.”
“Then in this case, it is merely a legal exercise.”
“We shall see. Are you aware that an old legend places King Arthur in these hills?”
He lifted a brow. “You know of that legend? Ah, I nearly forgot. You have succumbed to my father’s magic.”
She set down her coffee. “I am not certain I take your meaning.”
“He invented that tale of a golden hoard and added King Arthur to the cast of characters in one of his poems. Some think his tale was factual, but I believe it was fiction.”
