Mine Is the Night A Novel - By Liz Curtis Higgs Page 0,127
anything you seem afraid of, ’tis him.”
Afraid of Rob? She shook her head. “He would never hurt me. As for trusting him.” She paused, not wishing to cast doubt unfairly. “In all our dealings in Edinburgh, he always honored his promises.”
By the look on his face, Lord Jack saw through her careful wording, but he did not press the matter. “Are you quite sated?” he asked, eying her dessert plate, where only a smudge of lemon cream remained.
She smiled. “I’ll not need supper, if that’s what you mean.”
“Nor will I,” he admitted, “though it seems I’ll have guests at my table this eve.”
Elisabeth waited, hoping he might say something about Rosalind Murray. That he abhorred her, that he adored her—anything to put the subject to rest. On second thought, Elisabeth did not want to hear the latter. Nae, she did not.
When she started to rise, the admiral quickly did the same. “A fine meal, milord,” she told him.
He offered her a courtly bow. “With even finer company.”
Only then did she happen to gaze out the window and notice an abrupt change in the weather. Low, gray clouds were scuttling across the heavens, and a sharp wind lashed the tree branches against the outer walls of the house.
“We’ll have rain before nightfall,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “Let me have the carriage brought round for you at six o’ the clock.”
Elisabeth hesitated, tempted by his generosity, yet not wanting to give the household more fodder for their gossip. “Nae,” she said at last, “for ’tis an easy walk and all downhill.”
“You are certain, Mrs. Kerr?”
She stole another glance out the window. “Aye.”
Sixty-One
My day is closed!
the gloom of night is come!
JOANNA BAILLIE
efore the kirk bell tolled the hour of six, Elisabeth flew out the servants’ entrance, anxious to reach home. The skies were black with clouds, the sun had all but disappeared below the horizon, and the temperature had plummeted since she’d left Halliwell’s Close that morning. A storm was coming hard and fast from the west.
Why had she refused his lordship’s kind offer of a coach? Too late now, for she did not care to interrupt him with the Murrays expected. Rain was merely water, she reminded herself.
Elisabeth hastened across the lawn, clutching her hat in one hand and her sewing basket in the other. She’d promised to alter one of Anne’s gowns that evening after supper and would not disappoint her. Then she looked down and realized her scissors weren’t dangling round her neck. Nae!
She spun about, thinking to return to her workroom, until she remembered Anne’s small lace making scissors. Aye, those would do. Elisabeth started for home once more, practically running by the time she reached the road leading west toward town.
Dark, dark. And in the distance a roll of thunder.
Though she had no lantern, the lights of Selkirk beckoned her forward. Elisabeth well knew the steep, narrow track, having traveled it twice daily throughout the long summer. She started downhill, hair blowing in her face, her steps cautious. She could see her outstretched hand, but no farther. The air had a hollow sound as more thunder rumbled overhead.
At the first broad curve rested an enormous boulder the size of his lordship’s carriage. She’d nearly reached the other side of it when a large man stepped into her path.
“Oh!” She exhaled, bending forward as if she’d been punched. “Goodness, Rob, you startled me.”
The tailor took her arm rather firmly and led her round the boulder to a small patch of grass where clumps of spiny gorse stood guard and Rob’s small traveling bundle lay waiting. “I couldna speak with ye at the hoose, so I thocht to do so here.”
“Here?” She stared at Rob, his eyes blacker than the sky. “But the storm—”
“Sit with me, Bess,” he said, almost as if he’d not heard her.
Elisabeth was not afraid, but she was confused as she gingerly sat on the cool ground. Rob joined her, grunting slightly. Whether on purpose or by accident, he sat on her gown, pinning her in place.
When he spoke again, he looked straight ahead, his voice low but sharp. “Whatsomever were ye thinking dining with his lordship?”
Is that what this is about? “Rob, it was a meal. We were surrounded by servants—”
“I see the way he leuks at ye. I ken what’s on his mind.”
“You misjudge him,” she insisted. “Lord Buchanan is a good man, a righteous man—”