Quest of the Highlander (Crowns & Kilts #5) - Cynthia Wright Page 0,72
clean plaid folded in his satchel. After washing and dressing, Lennox stood before the tall mirror and surveyed his appearance. In Scotland, he might win approving glances, but here in London he was a fish out of water. Sighing, he pinned the sash near the shoulder of his shirt and debated whether to add a jeweled dirk at his belt.
Nay, he thought with a faint arch of one brow, his host might fear Lennox meant him harm.
After scooping up the leather pouch with the miniature of an unknown nobleman, he went out into the corridor.
A door opened as he passed and Lady Cicely emerged, nearly bumping into him. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “How clumsy I am.”
“Not at all.” He tried to see past her, into the bedchamber. “Is Nora there?”
Cicely flushed, and he wondered what she thought about them having separate rooms. “I have just spoken to her. She is well but resting.” Her dark-brown eyes softened. “I think that your lady will feel more at ease when your own future is resolved.”
He suppressed an urge to simply go into the room and take Nora in his arms. “Your brother has asked me to join him in the library, so perhaps I will soon know more.”
“I sincerely hope your conversation is fruitful,” Cicely replied. In the next instant, she closed the door, ending his hopes of seeing or speaking to Nora. “Godspeed, my friend.”
* * *
Expecting the library to be formal and austere, Lennox was surprised to enter and see three little girls holding out a ragged sock to an elderly spaniel.
“Do look, Percy, this is your favorite!” cried the oldest, a slim red-haired child of perhaps eight.
“Yes!” The littlest one, whose head was covered with golden curls, piped up, “Wouldn’t you like to pull on it?”
The middle girl, a calmer beauty with a long auburn braid, held out both hands and looked from one sister to the other, clearly used to being the voice of reason. “Mama says Percy is becoming quite an elderly gentleman. We mustn’t force him.” She crouched down beside the liver-spotted dog and stroked his silky ears. “You need not frolic with us, dear boy, unless it suits you to do so.”
Sandhurst was seated at his desk in front of a large window. Although an unopened ledger waited at his elbow, he was otherwise occupied, making sketches of the little girls and Percy the spaniel on a large sheet of paper.
“Ah, MacLeod, come in.” Rising, he set down his charcoal pencil and looked to each of his daughters in descending order of age. “Susan, Tessa, Alison, will you not welcome Master MacLeod?”
The trio faced Lennox, and Percy obediently got into a sitting position beside them. The girls chorused, “Welcome to our home, sir.”
“It is a pleasure to be here, my ladies,” he said with a smile intended to charm. “How kind ye are.”
The sisters stared at the sound of Lennox’s Scots accent, before scanning his belted plaid, golden brooch, and tousled hair. Clearly uncertain whether she might be in danger, the smallest child hid partway behind her siblings.
“Pardon me,” the auburn-braided girl said in a confident voice, “My name is Tessa. I am fairly bursting to know: Are you a true Highlander?”
Her words pinched at his heart. Lennox wanted to tell her that was the question that had brought him on a weekslong quest from Scotland to London, but instead he only nodded. “Aye, Lady Tessa. I’ve been a Highlander my entire life. I hope ye are not alarmed by my appearance.”
It was Percy who responded first, coming forward to offer a gentle greeting. Lennox knelt and ran his big hand over the spaniel’s head, causing Percy to close his eyes with pleasure. Little Alison came out from behind her sisters, beaming.
The duke came around the desk and Lennox straightened to clasp his outstretched hand. “This gentleman is our honored friend,” Sandhurst assured the trio. “Now, then, my girls, will you kindly take Percy downstairs to the kitchen for his dinner? I must speak to our guest alone.”
After bidding their father and Lennox goodbye, the trio rushed off, with Percy the spaniel following in their wake. The two men exchanged smiles as Sandhurst poured two goblets of garnet-red wine.
“Thank you for your kindness to my daughters,” he said, lifting his glass in a silent toast.
“They are charming, sir. I must confess, I did not imagine I would find your ducal library filled with children and a dog.”