My Highland Rogue - Karen Ranney Page 0,63

sufficient to get them to the churchyard. Otherwise, he couldn’t guarantee anyone’s sobriety.

At least tradition had kept Jennifer from accompanying him. For a few hours he wouldn’t have to see her. For some time, he could be spared the sight of her walking among the mourners, greeting each of them with the same grace the countess had possessed. He needn’t hear her voice, gracious and kind.

Lady Jennifer. She’d never seemed to bear the title better than she had today. When she told him of the arrangements she’d made on Sean’s behalf, her voice had been soft and caring. If he’d looked at her, he might’ve seen tears in her eyes. He knew that, if he’d given her the slightest indication, she would have patted his arm or squeezed his hand.

Or even hugged him.

That would have been unbearable.

He’d never truly lost anyone he loved deeply. Sean’s death affected him because he was human. What was it the poet John Donne had said? “Any man’s death diminishes me.” Beyond that, he felt little.

But Jennifer . . . That was different. For the past week he’d endured. He’d walked and talked, yet felt as if he’d done so as a ghost of himself. He imagined that what he was feeling was similar to deep grief. Not for Sean, but for Jennifer. He suspected that he would never get over this, but that he would learn to accommodate the enormous hole in his chest. He would never be the same person he had been before Sean’s announcement.

How strange that he felt as dead as Sean.

Somehow, he would have to begin to plan his life, unlike Sean who had no such concerns. Unless there truly was an afterlife, and Sean was being called to explain himself even now.

As soon as he took care of his business here, he’d return to London. Jennifer wouldn’t understand his departure. She’d thought he’d abandoned her five years ago; what would she think now?

He’d leave her a note. A letter, perhaps. A short written message of his intention to depart Adaire Hall and never see it—God willing—again.

In London he’d be safe from hearing Jennifer’s voice, or catching sight of her. He’d never have to smell her perfume again or listen to her laughter. He’d be free of any reminders of her.

All he had to do was get through this interminable day.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Sean McDonnell was put to rest beside his wife. Although the day was chilly, the sun was shining. Birdsong punctuated the ceremony, attended by most of the male inhabitants of Adaire Hall and a good portion of the village. Harrison hadn’t bothered to attend.

Thankfully, the ceremony was nearly over, and Gordon would soon be gone from here. Until then, he was determined to stand here, respectfully silent and outwardly stoic.

He glanced at the tombstones around him. The church was one of the oldest in this part of Scotland. The inhabitants of this plot of ground had been here for centuries. Some of the stones were dark and weathered. Others looked to have been newly chiseled.

Who would make arrangements for Sean’s stone? No doubt it was his responsibility. One of many that he didn’t want to have.

The minister finished and nodded toward Gordon. He felt like an imposter, but he nevertheless scooped a bit of earth from the pile with the implement offered to him and dropped it over Sean’s coffin before leaving the graveside.

He needed to be away. Away from the church. Away from the solemn dirge of bagpipes. Just away.

Unfortunately, he needed to continue this charade for a little while longer. He joined with some of the men he knew from Adaire Hall on the way back. The return walk was not as somber, since they weren’t accompanying Sean’s coffin. After a few glances in his direction he even heard laughter.

At the Hall, the mourners were greeted with a lavish spread of food, whiskey, wine, and ale. Pipes and tobacco were offered as well. Sean had been an important person at Adaire Hall, and his passing was being treated as such.

“Gordon.”

He reluctantly turned to face Jennifer.

“Are you all right? You’ve barely spoken to anyone.”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“How was the churchyard?”

“Tolerable,” he said. “Thank you for everything you’ve done, Jennifer. You’ve been exceedingly kind.”

There, he’d managed to thank her in words that sounded polite. Now all he had to do was walk away, before he was tempted to look at her, to touch her, to pretend that Sean hadn’t said what he had.

He’d recently learned that the nursery maid, the

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