My Highland Rogue - Karen Ranney Page 0,88

funeral, Mrs. Thompson and her expertise, and even your cook. Gordon is the one person you haven’t spoken of. Has he gone back to London as well?”

Jennifer didn’t think she could say the words. If she said them, it would magically change everything about her past. Make all those interludes with Gordon something terrible, something about which to be ashamed, instead of memories she’d always treasured.

How could she possibly tell Ellen when she could barely face the truth herself?

“Did he hurt you in some way?”

“No, Gordon would never hurt me.” Not deliberately.

“Then will you tell me what it is? Misery shared is misery eased, sometimes.”

Jennifer only shook her head.

“Are you certain you don’t want to tell me?”

Jennifer stood and without another word headed for the bedroom. She closed the door firmly behind her, hoping that Ellen hadn’t seen her tears.

Ellen stared at the closed bedroom door, wishing that she hadn’t pushed the issue. She’d upset Jennifer, and it was the very last thing she wanted to do.

She placed her cup on the tray, then went to the bellpull, and signaled for the maid to come. She would have to apologize later this morning and then work on her patience for a little while longer.

Jennifer hadn’t said anything about wanting to go back to Adaire Hall, another change. In the past, Jennifer had always put a limit to her visit almost immediately on arriving in Edinburgh. Plus, she always went on about enhancements that she wanted to make to the Hall or to the gardens or to some aspect of the estate.

Jennifer had always taken such pride in her home, more than Harrison ever had. All he cared about was gambling, which was a fool’s exercise.

She would have to be very judicious about her questions of Jennifer in the future, but she wasn’t going to curb her curiosity.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Gordon had never been feted at a dinner like the one he attended tonight. Four friends who’d known Alex Adaire insisted on buying him an extravagant meal, then finishing it up with a round of drinks.

Gordon learned that his father had an ear for voices, and that he kept his classmates amused and entertained by mimicking their professors.

“It’s only because he was brilliant that he got away with it, of course,” Michael McTavish said. “He was smarter than all of us.”

“I used to ask him if he ever studied,” McNair said. “He answered that he did, sometimes. Hardly ever, though.”

Over the next several hours, Gordon was regaled with stories of Alex’s generosity, too. How he’d spent many sleepless nights quizzing friends for exams. Or how often he’d loaned money to a classmate and never asked for it back.

All four of them had gone to Adaire Hall for his funeral and even now missed him.

It was odd to be examined so closely, especially when they pretended not to be looking at him. Evidently, even some of his gestures were similar to his father’s.

Each man had an abundance of Alex stories and insisted on telling them. By the end of the evening, he was filled with regret that he hadn’t known the man they knew and never would.

Gordon had, however, acquired four new friends, men who promised to help him find property for sale if he wanted to expand in Scotland. From what he’d been told, Edinburgh would be the perfect venue for a new music hall.

He managed to say enough to indicate his interest, but not why he would probably never come back to Scotland to live. That confession was too raw; that loss too much to bear.

He finished his whiskey and nodded when asked if he wanted another. One thing alcohol could do: erase your memories, at least temporarily.

“I love him,” Jennifer said.

Ellen turned to see her goddaughter standing in the doorway, dressed for bed.

“I’ve always loved him. I dreamed of being his wife. I wanted to share the rest of my life with him. I wanted to bear his children. I was used to sharing my thoughts with him, and hearing his. A day wasn’t right without him being there.”

“Gordon?”

Jennifer nodded. “When we were children, we never tried to keep our friendship a secret. There was no need. My mother liked Gordon very much. She spent a lot of time with him. I think she saw him as a good influence for me. Or hopefully for Harrison, although he and Gordon never got along.”

Ellen went to Jennifer’s side and gently pulled her into the sitting room. She’d been ready to retire for

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