and he’d looked perfect in it. Once, he had hefted a broadsword in the clan hall. She’d never forgotten the sight of him lit by sunlight, the muscles in his arms pulled tight against his shirt. In that moment he’d been a member of her clan, proud, brave, and willing to fight.
He’d never known how often she had thought of him that way. Or how it had stirred her.
Lauren sat with her hand on the mound of her stomach. It was a protective gesture that she had started making about two months ago. From time to time she would pat her expanding girth as if to reassure the baby that she hadn’t forgotten he was the most important person in her life. This dinner might well be the last time she was able to make it down the stairs until her child was born.
While she was probably a terrible person for resenting their easy camaraderie, Jennifer found it difficult to contribute to the conversation. She was being childish, as foolish as when she was five years old and refusing to eat her porridge to punish her mother. Lecturing herself didn’t seem to make any difference. It was quite obvious that Gordon liked Lauren and that her sister-in-law felt the same way about him.
All she had to do was bring Harrison’s name into the conversation and the tenor of it would immediately change. Lauren would look sad, and Gordon would no doubt scowl at her. For that reason, she remained mute, wishing she were a better person. Or that she wasn’t feeling miserable and overjoyed at the same time.
He’d always had that effect on her. A smile from Gordon was enough to make anything tolerable. It was the same with his anger. If he was mad at her, nothing would make the day brighter.
“Are you not feeling well?” Lauren asked. “You’ve hardly eaten anything and the salmon is especially good.”
Her sister-in-law was one of the sweetest people she’d ever met. Plus, she noticed things. Even being heavily with child, she didn’t withdraw into herself. Instead, she wanted to know about her maid’s love affair with one of the footmen. Or how Mrs. Thompson’s arthritic knee was doing. She might have been the daughter of a wealthy man, but she’d never put on airs.
Her question made Jennifer feel even smaller and more petty.
“I find that I’m not very hungry,” she said, smiling at Lauren. She changed the subject immediately, looking at Gordon.
“How did you find your father?” she asked.
“Worse than I anticipated, frankly. Thank you for your care of him, Jennifer. No one could have done more.”
“He’s part of Adaire Hall,” she said. “Besides, he’s come to mean a great deal to me over the years.”
That wasn’t a lie. When she was a girl she was, if not afraid of Sean, then cautious around him. He had a tendency to say exactly what he thought to anyone who was nearby. The only people he seemed to respect were her mother and Harrison. Yet as she grew, and especially after she had taken on the management of Adaire Hall, they had come to a meeting of the minds. He told her exactly what he thought, as usual. She did the same. They felt a grudging respect for each other, supplanted by a growing affection. She’d been as surprised by that as he.
“Sally said the physician has been to see him?”
She nodded. “Mr. McPherson. He treated my mother.”
“Is there anything more that can be done?”
Although the topic was not one normally discussed at dinner, she wasn’t going to dissuade Gordon from asking questions. At least he was talking to her.
“Not according to the doctor.”
The prognosis for Sean was grim. In actuality, he had outlived the doctor’s estimation. No doubt because proving him wrong would give Sean some satisfaction. The man might be ill, but his stubbornness was still firmly intact.
In that regard Gordon was just like his father.
Jennifer was barely looking at him, and the only conversation they’d exchanged had been about Sean. Even Lauren glanced at her from time to time, as if Jennifer’s behavior was unusual. Nor was she eating. She merely pushed the salmon around her plate a few times.
He’d always been able to read her, and if he wasn’t wrong, she was angry.
“Do you think the cook has made any tarts for dessert?” Lauren asked.
“I’ll go see, shall I?” Jennifer smiled, and before the footman could get to her chair, pushed it back and stood. In seconds she was gone