the mirror image of your father. I have a number of friends, men who knew Alex who would say the same. I don’t doubt that they’ll stand as witnesses as well.”
He pulled a sheet of paper to him and began to write.
“In the meantime, I’m recommending another advocate. Let me write a quick note to him, and you can take it now. He’s just across the street. Tell him what I said. I don’t think he’ll have any reluctance to take your case.”
McNair folded the note and gave it to him. True to his word, the advocate he recommended was anxious to represent him.
“If you have Robert McNair as a witness in your defense, your claim is as good as granted.”
Gordon began walking back to the Waverly Hotel, feeling better about one part of his life. He’d never considered that he might resemble his father. If it was true that he was so like the fifth earl, enough that McNair was willing to be his witness, then perhaps it would make it easier to prove that the earldom had been stolen from him.
He’d never actively hated anyone. It seemed to him that hatred was a wasted emotion, requiring too much energy and reaping few rewards. In this instance, however, he allowed himself the luxury of hating Betty McDonnell and wishing her to eternal perdition.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“The Campbells’ retiring room is always cold,” Abigail said. “And their tea is never hot. No one who works there ever has any time for me, so I’m put in a corner to wait.”
Abigail’s complaints had begun the minute they entered the carriage. Ellen didn’t respond, but then she normally remained silent. If you got into a discussion about anything Abigail said, the maid grew even more voluble.
“It’s a dreich day, which means it’ll be even colder. I don’t think their housekeeper likes me, which is why I’m not given acceptable refreshments.”
Jennifer looked up to find that Ellen was studying her.
“I think it would be best if you saw my physician, Jennifer. I’ve sent word to him and he can come tomorrow. I absolutely insist.”
She knew why her godmother thought she was ill. She would admit that she was acting oddly, but how else was she supposed to behave? She couldn’t cry. The pain was too deep for tears. It was easier to sleep or simply stare at the wall. She didn’t want to feel anything, because it was easier that way.
“Very well.”
She didn’t care. Let a physician examine her. Let him ask her all sorts of intrusive questions. He would never ask the right one. He would never say to her, “Lady Jennifer, have you lost your will to live? Has everything in your life suddenly lost meaning?” No, he wouldn’t ask those questions, would he?
Ellen didn’t look away. “Do you know how worried I am about you?”
“You shouldn’t worry,” Jennifer said. The effort to speak was almost beyond her. “There’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing anyone can do.”
Even Abigail turned to look at her. Jennifer closed her eyes, unwilling to see Ellen’s expression or Abigail’s curiosity. They felt as far away from her as the stars. How could she possibly explain the situation to them?
Although she didn’t feel like going anywhere or seeing anyone, she also knew her godmother. When Ellen was determined on a point, nothing and no one could stop her. It was simply easier to give in immediately, which was why she was in a carriage going to Hamish Campbell’s house. It was either this visit or spend the rest of the day arguing. She had neither the inclination nor the energy for that. Therefore, she’d go and see Lauren and Mr. Campbell and be as polite as possible. She would smile when she was supposed to and contribute to the conversation if she absolutely must, and when it was over, she would go back to her room and sleep.
Traffic in Edinburgh was not as bad as that in London, but it wasn’t easily navigated, either. Today it was taking longer than it should have, according to Ellen, to reach Mr. Campbell’s home.
She’d only been there once, for a dinner prior to Harrison’s wedding. It was a lovely and impressive home, whose history paralleled that of Edinburgh itself. At another time, she and Ellen would have discussed the house or Mr. Campbell’s penchant for displaying all sorts of weapons used in clan wars on every available wall.
Now she wasn’t interested.
She stared out at the streets of Edinburgh. It truly was