Amanda Scott (33 page)

“Thank you for your faith in me, sir,” Hugo said as he turned his own stool with its back to his father and straddled it. “In truth, though, I had almost looked forward to your reproaches, hoping you would tell me what to do next.”

“Sakes, lad, you know without my saying it that you bear some responsibility for what happened to Lady Adela, and for the ladies Sorcha and Sidony, too. I shall
be interested to learn, after you settle it all, just how you managed to do it.”

“I’d rather like to know how I’ll do it, too,” Hugo said, folding his arms across the top of the stool’s back. “At risk of displeasing you more, I must confess that I’ve taken a strong interest in Sorcha. Unfortunately, she is determined to make me save Adela from Waldron and then restore Adela’s reputation by marrying her.”

“So you’ve fallen for the lass, have you,” his father said. “Isabella told me you had, but I did not believe it. Do you not recall once describing for me, in considerable detail, just what sort of wife you meant to have?”

That his shrewd aunt had seen through him was no great surprise, but Hugo had hoped no one would remember his perfect wife. “I was thinking about that earlier,” he admitted. “Do you know, now that Sorcha has brought me face-to-face with my own arrogance, I am appalled at how colossal it was.”

“Then she has taught you much, my son, and my confidence increases that you will do whatever is both right and honorable. But now, tell me what remains to do in preparation for the council? Do you require aught of me?”

Instead of answering immediately, Hugo moved to the door and opened it, peering out at the small landing and the spiral stairway up which they had come. The chamber on the opposite side of the landing was empty and securely locked.

Shutting his door again, he said, “This room affords me considerable privacy, but I try never to take it for granted.”

“ ’Tis wise to be certain. But now, the council.”

“Doubtless Michael will arrive tomorrow evening,” Hugo said. “Then, on Tuesday, as you know, everyone will attend the court in Edinburgh to show support for MacDonald of the Isles when he pledges his fealty to the King.”

“It can surprise no one that young Donald means to ally himself with his grandfather,” Sir Edward said. “But when he does, there will be a smile or two from those who recall how stubbornly his father resisted doing the same.”

“He did it, though,” Hugo said. “Moreover, Donald means to continue his father’s habit of refusing to wear a hat in the King’s presence.”

“So that he need never take it off,” Sir Edward said with a chuckle. “Does Ranald expect any trouble at court?”

“Nay, but he wants to make a good show of strength nonetheless, so no one will believe the Isles are still unsettled over Donald’s ascension to the Lordship instead of his own. ’Tis why Ranald wants so many of us to attend.”

“It also affords us cover,” Sir Edward said. “How many do you expect?”

Hugo knew he no longer spoke of the royal court. “I don’t know exactly,” he admitted. “So much secrecy has attended the Order, and for so many years now, that we know of only small groups here and there. The list of names we found in the chest with Henry’s much-beloved maps gave us a turn, as you know, but…”

“… but that list is at least seventy-three years old,” Sir Edward said, finishing his sentence. “So we must take great care.”

“We made contact only with members known to other
members,” Hugo said. “Even so, we’ve relied heavily on secret signs and symbols, and only commanders will attend this council. None of them will learn its exact location.”

“I’d expected that by now you’d know just how many will come.”

“I might have, had Henry not decided to spend a month in Stirling with the court and travel from there to Edinburgh with the King. Or if I had not been in the Isles, busy with preparations for Donald’s installation. I know only of six men, mayhap seven from the west, but I wager Henry will know of more. We could not risk exchanging that information through ordinary messengers.”

“But how is it you do not at least know the exact number from the Isles?”

“Because Michael intended to look into one or two more possibilities.”

“Such as?”

“ ’Tis possible that Macleod of Glenelg may be one of us,” Hugo said quietly.

“Indeed?”

“Aye, sir. Michael was going to do what he could to look into it before they both joined his grace’s flotilla or try to create an opportunity to do so on the way.”

“What stirred this intention?”

“It seems Macleod is a notoriously superstitious gentleman,” Hugo said. “So superstitious, in fact, that he refused to allow Adela to marry on Friday last, although her intended bridegroom originally chose that date.”

“I see. If I am not mistaken, that Friday fell on the thirteenth.”

“It did.”

“Aye, well, be sure that you and Michael keep me
apprised of any progress there, and anything else that may affect the council. But now, tell me about Donald’s installation. Is Ranald satisfied that all will be well?”

Perfectly willing to accept the change of subject, Hugo complied. But as he prepared for bed two hours later, he could not help wishing his father had proven more helpful in the matter chiefly occupying his own thoughts.

He had enjoyed their conversation far more than he had anticipated, and was encouraged that Sir Edward had revealed no disapproval at learning of his interest in Sorcha. But Hugo knew he would happily have endured the severest reprimand if it had produced some of Sir Edward’s generally excellent advice.

S
orcha had not closed her bed curtains, so waking to gray light, despite feeling refreshed by a deep, dreamless sleep, she decided it must be nearing sunrise. Getting out of bed, she wrapped her cloak around her to ward off the room’s icy chill, then went to the window and looked outside.

A thick Scottish mist cast a desolate pall over everything, including the river. The time might have been any hour between dawn and dusk.

Finding a dark-green kirtle and a striped rose-pink-and-white silk surcoat folded neatly on a stool, she realized that Kenna must have come in and decided not to wake her. Pleased that she had managed to bathe and wash her hair before retiring the night before, she poured cold water from the ewer into the basin on its stand and washed her face and hands. Then, discovering that the kirtle laced up the front, she quickly dressed herself and went to waken Sidony.

Finding her sister’s room empty, she went downstairs, where she found Sidony at the high table with the countess, Sir Edward, and Hugo. Only then did she realize that it must be later than she had thought.

Stepping onto the dais, she bade them all a good morning.

“ ’Tis a gey dreary one, but come sit by me,” Sidony said cheerfully as the countess nodded and the men stood politely and echoed Sorcha’s greeting. “I was just about to go up and pull you out of bed.”

“You and Kenna should not have let me sleep so long,” Sorcha said.

“They knew you needed sleep, my dear,” the countess said. “Moreover, Roslin has its own chapel and my chaplain to say Mass this morning. As we can therefore linger whilst you break your fast, sit now and tell Ivor what you would like.”

“Thank you, madam,” Sorcha said, doing so at once and agreeing with the gillie that a loaf, a boiled egg, and a small grilled trout would suit her well. He produced the trout and loaf from a hob near the fireplace, where he had kept them warm, then moved a jam pot that sat near Hugo closer to her.

Sidony had fallen silent, as usual, and the others returned to their discussion, apparently continuing from where they had stopped at Sorcha’s entrance.

When Hugo mentioned the King, she inferred that they were discussing their likely activities for the next day or so. Having small interest except insofar as they might pertain to Adela or herself, she listened with only half an ear as she contentedly applied herself to her breakfast.

Not until Sir Edward mentioned Macleod did she take particular notice of what they were saying.

Glancing at Hugo, her gaze locked with his as he said, “I expect he will come here, sir. Whether he will ride with Michael or wait until after he attends the royal court I cannot say. But he will know shortly, if he does not already, that three of his daughters are here at Roslin and that we have knowledge of Adela. He would be a most unusual father if he did not want to see all of them.”

“There is his grandson to meet, too, don’t forget,” the countess said.

“Aye,” Hugo said, grinning. “I’m not likely to forget the bairn.”

“Nor am I likely to forget how he came into this world,” Isabella said with tightening lips and a frown. “I said last night that I would send for Waldron, and so I shall this very day. I know you do not believe he will come, Hugo, but I want to ask him just what he hoped to accomplish by abducting Adela and our Isobel.”

Sorcha saw Hugo exchange a glance with Sir Edward. She thought he was silently asking a question, but if that was the case, Sir Edward gave no sign of replying before shifting his gaze back to Isabella.

“Furthermore,” she went on, “if Macleod of Glenelg should express a desire to lodge a grievance against him, I mean to allow it. Indeed, I don’t doubt that Henry will agree to hold court right here, since he intends to stay for several weeks before he returns to Caithness and Orkney for the summer. I should think Isobel’s involvement means that he and I share equal jurisdiction over this matter.”

Hugo’s jaw tightened, and again he glanced at his father.

But Sir Edward’s gaze remained fixed on the countess.

Isabella said, “What is it, Hugo? If you have something to say, please say it.”

“Forgive me, madam,” he said, flushing. “I do have information that I would like to impart to you, but I should do so more privately.”

Sir Edward did look at him then but still said nothing.

Sorcha decided that she and Sidony might as well not have existed for all the heed the others paid them, and her curiosity burned fiercely.

Isabella stood, smoothing her skirt as she said, “I would not have my chaplain think us heathens, so we will proceed to the chapel now. Afterward, Hugo, you may join me in the solar and say what you will. I cannot imagine what you think may sway me from my course, but I will listen to you. Are you ready, my dears?” she added, speaking to Sorcha and Sidony for the first time since Sorcha had joined them.

Ivor appeared at Sorcha’s side with a damp cloth and fingerbowl, so she quickly washed her hands and rose to follow the others.

Sidony fell into step beside her, saying quietly, “One cannot help but wonder what that was all about. I do not like secrets, do you?”

Sorcha nearly said something rude but satisfied herself with a firm, “No.”

“Secrets make me feel uncomfortable,” her sister confided.

It was not the first time that Sorcha had wished she could share her thoughts more freely with Sidony, but it was too easy to distress her younger sister. She was certain that, even now, Sidony had little notion of what dangers Adela faced.

In fairness, Sorcha told herself as they hurried along in the countess’s wake, she had not truly comprehended Adela’s situation herself until Waldron’s men had captured Rory MacIver and beaten him. She had at least understood then why Hugo had been so angry with her when he’d first caught up with them.

She occupied the next few minutes wondering what secrets he meant to share with the countess, and how she herself might possibly discover them.

To her surprise, when they reached the little chapel and she moved to follow Isabella inside, Hugo gently stopped her and gestured for Sidony to go ahead. Then, nodding to Sorcha to precede him, he followed her in.

A number of the servants had taken places on the left, leaving a narrow central aisle, and to the right of it, Sorcha saw that low padded, needlework-covered kneeling stools were already in place for each of the family. A definite benefit to having one’s own chapel was that one need not carry one’s own stool in each time.

Sir Edward stepped around the countess to take his place beside her, with Sidony on her other side. Hugo and Sorcha knelt behind them, and as soon as the countess had had time to offer a private prayer, her chaplain began to say the Mass.

Sorcha’s mind tended to wander at such times, and with Hugo beside her, she could not seem to think of anything but how close he was and how pleasant his deep voice was as he gave the responses and murmured the prayers.

Moments later, her thoughts shifted abruptly to Waldron, and she wondered if Isabella knew that Isobel had pushed the horrid man off the ramparts the previous
summer, or that Waldron harbored a desire for vengeance against everyone involved in that incident.

Lost in thought, she murmured her responses automatically, and before she knew so much time had passed, the chaplain invited them to partake of communion. Shortly afterward, he said the benediction and everyone stood again to depart.

Hugo stepped back to let her precede him from the chapel. As she moved past him, she glanced up and saw a twinkle in his eyes.