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“Mr. Coburn.” Mrs. Lithgow approached with a pleased smile. “We did not realize you were visiting your grandfather. How delightful that we should be here at the same time.”
Sebastian once more offered a bow and a word of pleasure. Cordelia began to understand. He was known to these people not as Sebastian of the Home Farm, but as Sebastian Coburn, heir to the Laird of Teviotbrae. His true identity would be made known to her parents under circumstances that prevented the laird from calling him a liar. He, after all, was not the one declaring himself the man’s grandson. The laird would not accuse his distinguished guests of spreading falsehoods.
Mother and Father could not possibly have looked more perplexed. Father found his voice first.
“You know this man?” he asked Mr. Lithgow, standing near him.
“Certainly, I do. This gentleman”—Mr. Lithgow didn’t overly emphasize the correction of Father’s chosen term, but it was a significant change— “is Mr. Sebastian Coburn, grandson of our host.”
That brought Cordelia’s parents’ confused gazes to the laird. With tight lips and tense jaw, the laird gave a single, quick nod of his head.
“Miss Wakefield,” Sebastian said, “have you had the opportunity to meet the other guests?”
“I have been introduced, yes.”
He offered her his arm, and she happily threaded hers through it.
“I had hoped you would join us today,” she said.
“I am very pleased that I did.”
He walked with her a bit away from the group and toward a small table holding little pastries for the guests to enjoy as they mingled.
“Has this made you terribly uncomfortable?” Cordelia whispered. “I know you did not care for Society when you were in London.”
“The MacGregors and Lithgows are not terribly high in the instep. They aren’t the sort to make one feel inferior or out of place. And they know who I am, which serves my purposes quite well.”
She allowed her amusement to blossom on her face. “That was very cleverly done. I daresay my parents are utterly befuddled. The laird, however, gives every indication of being boiling angry.”
Sebastian went through the motions of placing a finger sandwich on a plate for her. “I fully expect the laird to exact some sort of punishment.”
With worry, she met his eye once more. But he smiled softly.
“Do not fear, sweet Cordelia. I have planned for the edicts he is likely to make.”
“He will take away your home, won’t he?” How she knew that so suddenly, so entirely, she couldn’t say. But she hadn’t a doubt her hunch was correct.
“He will likely require that I vacate the home farm.” Sebastian walked at her side away from the table, giving the impression to all who might be watching that they were simply having a pleasant conversation while enjoying a bit to eat in the lovely garden.
“Where will you go?” Her heart dropped to her toes at the prospect of Sebastian leaving.
“I have lived at the home farm not because I hadn’t any other options, but because I did not wish to antagonize my grandfather. As he has made quite clear that he does not think of me as family, I no longer give that priority.”
“You have another home?”
He nodded.
“Is it terribly far away?”
With another of his tender, reassuring smiles, he said, “Not far away at all.”
“I would miss you if you left,” she confessed.
“I do not intend that either of us will be required to miss the other.”
They had not wandered far, her untouched finger sandwich still on the plate she carried, when the laird stepped in their path.
“This is unacceptable,” he whispered through clenched teeth. His posture gave nothing away. The other guests would not be able to see his face and would not realize how angry he truly was.
