Page 46

Connall’s arrival at the home farm the next day wouldn’t have been so unusual, except it was not one of the days the lad usually worked there. Sebastian was happy to see him, but also concerned. There was a very good chance he had come because something was amiss.

But as the lad approached, Sebastian saw no signs of distress.

“Whit like?” When Connall had first started working at the home farm, Sebastian hadn’t the first idea what that greeting meant or how to respond to it.

“I’m doing fine. What about yourself?” Sebastian tossed his bucket of slop to the pigs.

“I’ve come to beg a favor. Bold of me, isn’t it?”

Sebastian shrugged. “Depends on the favor.”

Connall was always quick with a smile. “My family and the Breckins and the Fairbarins want to have a wee céilidh. We’ve nae had one in a long time, and we got to talking about how nice it’d be. Having all three families together, we’d need more space than any of us have.”

With the laird still away in Edinburgh, and knowing Sebastian’s connection even though it wasn’t openly acknowledged, the families likely hoped he could secure use of one of the large, open lawns surrounding Teviot Castle. How disappointed they would be to discover that his grandfather had, upon sending him to the home farm, insisted Sebastian not take advantage of their actual connection.

Connall continued on. “I mentioned to my mother that you’ve a big open space just to the south of your house here, and it’s a fallow field this year, so there’d not be any crops at risk of being trampled. Any chance you’d be willing to let us have our wee party there?”

The request surprised him. It was his home they wished to use. And it was an opportunity to know them better, just as he’d been hoping for.

“I’d be happy to have you here,” he said, with both sincerity and gratitude. “Tell me what I can do.”

“There’s nae much. Our céilidhs aren’t elaborate. It’s mostly music and telling stories and sitting about gabbing.”

“I look forward to it.”

He had heard the locals talk now and then about their céilidhs. The gatherings sounded delightful. He had never been specifically forbidden from attending, but he’d never been invited to one either. Now one was being held at his home, and it was exciting.

But tugging at his heart was the realization that, even with these three families he enjoyed so much, the gathering would feel incomplete if he did not also have someone else there, someone who’d managed to claim a little bit of his heart.

He wanted to—needed to—invite Cordelia.

* * *

“You wish us to attend?” Cordelia asked.

Sebastian had been fortunate to find the Wakefield sisters on the east lawn of Burnwick House. He couldn’t possibly have made the request otherwise. Though by birth, he was certainly permitted to call on them in the usual manner, being Sebastian of the Home Farm put him more on an even footing with the servants. It was such an odd situation to be in. None of his education or interactions with Society before settling here had prepared him for living in this in-between place.

“There will be music,” he said, “and I remember you told me that Miss Seraphina has a musical talent.” He dipped his head in the direction of the person they were talking about.

“I do love music,” Miss Seraphina said. She was still as pleasant and sunny as she had been the first time he’d met her, but he could see that there was a heaviness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. Perhaps she missed her parents; they were still in Edinburgh with his grandfather.

“Will the families gathering there be upset if we attend?” Cordelia asked. “Sometimes having unexpected people arrive for a gathering puts a damper on it.”

“If the laird came, that would cause a decided damper,” Sebastian said dryly.

The two sisters smiled almost identically, clearly trying to hide some of their amusement, but not succeeding entirely.

“He did not seem a bad person,” Cordelia said. “He was just high enough in the instep and just stiff enough in his manner that I can easily imagine how out of place he would be at a gathering of people with whom he does not usually interact.”

“Precisely,” Sebastian said. “But so long as I arm the other attendees with battledores, I feel they would think your presence a wonderful addition.”

“I’m actually very selective in who I attack with racquets,” Cordelia said with a feigned degree of arrogance. “You will find you are now a member of a very select club.”

Miss Seraphina thrust her hand out and shook his hand vigorously. “Welcome to the exclusive club, Sebastian of the Home Farm.”

He laughed out loud. “She’s hit you with a racquet as well?”

“It is something of an initiation into Cordelia’s world, I’m afraid.”