“I know I’m late,” I said.
Agnes’s face cracked into a grin, and she yanked me into a crushing hug with a strength that should have been impossible for a sixty-something woman who wouldn’t break a hundred pounds soaking wet. She’d been working for Grandad for years, and I was particularly fond of her tattie scones.
“I let the kettle go cold five times waiting for you to turn up yesterday,” she said, releasing me. “And who’s this lovely young thing?”
I stepped aside to introduce her to Lena. “This is Lena…” I hesitated over “Harp.” “My wife.”
“Wife!” Agnes exclaimed, walloping me on the arm. She surged after Lena’s hand, studying the ring. “Since when is Weston Kincaid a married man?”
“Since this morning,” Lena said.
Agnes released her. “For the love o’God,” she said, exasperated. “You said have tea ready! You didn’t say anything about a wedding celebration.”
“No celebration,” I said at the same time Lena said, “That’s not necessary.”
“’Course it’s necessary,” Agnes said, throwing her arms up. “It’s not every day you get married. Or at least, Ihopeit’s not.” She gave me a suspicious stare before turning to march toward the house, muttering to herself. “Married! Without so much as a word to the staff. What am I, a pile of sheep shite?”
Lena snorted with laughter. “I like her.”
“She’s a riot,” I said. “And unstoppable when she’s set her mind to something.” I set off after her, pulling Lena along by the hand. “Agnes! Don’t make a fuss.”
“Don’t be daft! We have to celebrate,” she called, disappearing down a hall as we walked into the entryway. Milo bounded ahead, eager to re-explore the familiar surroundings.
Lena stood next to me, lost for words, and I took a beat to absorb the emptiness of walking through these doors and not being greeted by Grandad. To not be enveloped in a hug that smelled like his favorite tweed vest and tobacco.
Agnes returned, phone in hand, texting wildly. “I can’t believe you put me in this position! I have nothing prepared. Now I have to tell the entire ladies’ chat that Weston has brought his bride back to Braeburn, and I barely have a biscuit to offer you!” She blew out a ragged breath. “Hopeless, these Kincaid men are,” she said, looking straight at Lena. “I hope you’re ready for that.”
“Don’t worry, I’m well aware,” Lena muttered.
I shot her a look.
“Anyway, I’ll get this sorted. You two go on upstairs and clean yourselves up.”
“For what?” Lena asked, wary.
“Oh, nothing to fret about, love. Just a few people and a couple of bits for a proper celebration.”
And before I knew it, our luggage had been moved to the front hall, and Agnes had raced away so she could prepare the dining hall for guests.
“What just happened?” Lena asked as I led her up the stairs and down the hall.
“Agnes happened,” I said with a shrug. “No point in arguing. I’ve never known Agnes to be swayed.” I placed her suitcase down beside one of the guest rooms. “You should have everything you need in terms of bedding,” I said. “Your bathroom is just there.” I pointed it out. “My room is just around the corner. I’d giveyou the rest of the rundown, but there are too many rooms to remember.”
“Noted,” she said. “See you in a few, Lord Kincaid.”
“Don’t call me that.”
She twirled her hands, giving a silly, exaggerated bow. “Whatever you say, my liege.”
Less than thirty minutes later, we were back in the packed dining hall which had been hastily transformed with the power of Agnes’s knitting circle into a post-wedding buffet. Several bottles of Grandad’s favorite wine had been brought out of the cellar, and there was a spread of sausage rolls, tattie scones, Scotch eggs, smoked salmon and sharp cheddar that filled the table, while an assortment of congratulatory cards decorated the sideboard. Agnes dragged us around the room, re-introducing me to people I vaguely remembered from my summers as a boy and my visits over the years. Lena was presented to everyone as if she was the greatest thing since sliced bread.
And maybe she was, for putting up with all of this.
“You’re a lovely bride, dear,” Mrs. Crawford said, finding herself another glass of wine as she wrapped her arm over Lena’s shoulders. “I live just down the way there, you know. And I was so sorry to hear of Pete’s passing. Terrible. Terrible. But the man loved to entertain. He’d be chuffed with this whole spread.”
A few of the townsfolk eyed me up, whispering to each other and looking at their phones. I fought the urge to scowl as I sipped my drink, suspecting Narissa’s insane rumors had followed me here. I figured only a handful of the people here genuinely wanted to wish us well. The rest had probably just come out to see theprodigal grandson return and figure out what gossip there was to spread.
Lena slipped away as Mrs. Crawford chased after a plate of pastries. “How is she already drunk?”
