Alec held his tongue, but he and everyone else looked around, and he saw the flaws of his family home for the first time. The stone walls were hung with threadbare tapestries and more of the rusty weapons that had been kept hidden away for nigh on seventy years, which Muira had now seen fit to bring out and display. The furniture was spartan and faded. Sophie took off her hat and set it on a table, and the yellow bird stared at the cold stone walls in open-beaked horror.
Sophie was wrinkling her dainty nose at a pillow that Megan had embroidered when she was just nine, and his sister’s cheeks flamed. Sophie Ellison was even more of a stranger than he had feared. He’d felt an instant attraction when he’d seen Caroline in the tower. He looked at Sophie again, and felt nothing. Yet she would bring sixty thousand pounds to Glenlorne.
Even so, marriage once again seemed a sad prospect, even though he’d been willing, even eager to marry her when he thought she was Caroline, or that Caroline was Sophie. He rubbed his forehead, confounded. Would he still marry her? He must. Was there any choice? And Glenlorne would be painted and papered and his sisters would all learn to speak perfect English and sport egregious bonnets with dead wildlife mounted on them—a fox for Megan, a squirrel for Sorcha, and a dove, perhaps, for Alanna.
“Perhaps we could have a word about arrangements, my lord?” Mr. Parfitt suggested. “Lord Bray was most anxious to see everything settled.”
“Could it wait until after breakfast,” Sophie insisted. “I’m starving. Is there any English food in the place? No matter. I insisted we bring suitable provisions just in case. And a cook.”
“We have a cook,” Alanna said carefully, her smile fading a trifle.
Sophie laughed, the sound like sweet water flowing into a crystal goblet on a hot day. “Not an English one, I’ll warrant.”
“Warrant?” Alanna repeated, running her tongue over the unfamiliar English word.
Sophie babbled on like a stream on a flood tide, carrying the entire conversation by herself, comparing the virtues of French paper to English plasterwork, using more words the girls didn’t recognize, if the looks of bafflement that passed between them were any indication. His sisters cast a few questioning looks at Alec as well, as if wondering just how and where he’d found Lady Sophie Ellison, and if it was too late to send her back. It was. Alec stared at the door, hoping Lady Caroline would walk through it. If she did, he would rise from his seat and cross the room. Then he’d take her in his arms—and strangle her.
Devorguilla—Devina—came downstairs dressed like an English lady in a stylish morning gown. Her clothing, her hair, even her shoes would have fit right in with the expensive English decor Sophie was suggesting.
The countess greeted her unexpected guests as if she hosted English nobles in her home all the time. She waved a gracious hand to indicate that Muira could pour the tea. Muira rolled her eyes.
“Mama, this is Lady Sophie. Alec is going to marry her,” Megan said.
Muira would have dropped the delicate English teacup in her hand if Alec hadn’t reached out and caught it. “Truly?” she whispered in Gaelic, looking at him. “A Sassenach countess?” She made a subtle sign of protection against evil.
Devina’s eyes bulged, and she looked more carefully at Sophie, sliding her eyes over the lady’s gown and jewelry, assessing her value. Sophie shifted under her hot stare.
“Will Caroline be joining us for tea?” Sophie asked.
“Caroline?” Devina warbled, only half recovered from her surprise. “Who is Caroline?”
“Why, Lady Caroline Forrester. It was such a pleasure to find her here. I am a dear friend of her niece Lottie. We have so much to talk about!”
Devina’s brow furrowed.
“Your Miss Forrester, I believe,” Alec said.
Devina’s eyes bugged out again. “MyMiss Forrester? The girls’ governess?”
“Yes—she’s the Earl of Somerson’s sister.” Alec pinned her with a look, and watched Devina’s throat bob.
“Well, his half sister actually,” Sophie said. “His father married a second wife less than half his age, and Caroline was born. It was a dreadful scandal some twenty years ago. Lottie told me about it.”
“Somerson?The one with all the money?” Devina squeaked.
Sophie tilted her head, her eyes wide. “Yes, that’s him—though my father is richer still.”
Devina made another sound of strangled surprise.
Megan looked at her mother in concern. “Do you want the hartshorn, Mama?” But Devina was staring at Alec.
“You’re going to marry—” She pointed discreetly at Sophie.
“Yes indeed. I’m here to perform the ceremony,” Mr. Parfitt said firmly.
“If Lord Glenlorne formally proposes, of course,” Sophie said, and gave him a shy smile.
Alec watched Devorguilla—Devina—assess Sophie’s value again, taking in the diamond pin at her collar, the stylish hat, the cut of her clothes, the exquisite pearl and emerald earrings. Her smile stretched, until it nearly reached her ears on both sides.
