Quest of the Highlander (Crowns & Kilts #5) - Cynthia Wright Page 0,68
her banter. Glancing away, he felt the tightening in his chest that had been coming more and more often of late. It was a sort of grief, he sensed, the prospect of trading his Highland identity to become a different person. Did he truly want this?
Swans glided over to the side of the barge, seeming to recognize Cicely. “They hope for a treat,” she remarked. “I used to try to pet them when I was a child, but my brother forbade it, claiming to know someone who had a finger bitten off by a swan.” She glanced back to the cushioned bench where Nora reclined next to Fairhaven, looking pale and dispirited. “Your lovely wife has not been herself for days. Do you fear for her health?”
It was true that Nora had suffered from what she called mal de mer, ever since they’d left the Isle of Mull. The seas were often rough, and Lennox had found himself on deck much of the time, working alongside the crew of Lord Fairhaven’s sloop. And once they had neared London, he had been distracted by the realization that his whole life might be about to change.
Yet, looking back at Nora now, he felt an uncomfortable twinge of guilt. How could he be so focused by his own concerns that he had not kept a closer watch on her?
“Nora assures me that she has always been plagued by seasickness,” Lennox said. He was about to go to her when Cicely put a hand on his arm.
“She has told me the same, and I know she also understands all that weighs on your mind. You are seeing this city for the first time. And you have come a very long way on an important quest for your…relative?” Cicely’s voice trailed off expectantly.
“Ye will know more soon enough, when I speak to your brother,” he replied.
He was relieved when she stepped back. “I think that meeting is at hand, but meanwhile, I will go to Nora and leave you to your thoughts.”
* * *
Nora looked up as Cicely took a seat beside her, the yellow silk of her skirts billowing around her.
“Your splendid Highlander is very concerned about you,” said Cicely.
She managed a weak smile. “I know that he is, but other matters must come first today for Lennox.” Feeling the Englishwoman’s watchful gaze, she added a small falsehood. “I am fine. No doubt my queasiness will be cured when we are back on dry land.”
“Hmm. Do you think so?”
Nora was spared from thinking of a reply as Lord Fairhaven, who had been dozing on some nearby cushions, clambered to his feet. Shading his eyes to survey the shoreline, he exclaimed, “There it is. What a welcome sight!”
Cicely clapped her hands, beaming. “Andrew will be so surprised to see us.”
They were drawing up before a water-gate that opened onto a series of wide stone steps. In the distance stood a grand home of rose-salmon brick, its diamond-paned windows agleam in the late-afternoon sunlight.
“Whose house is this?” asked Nora as the arched doors opened and an old man tottered out, followed by several other liveried servants. “Who is Andrew?”
“Have I not told you? Andrew is my brother, the Duke of Aylesbury.”
Even as the waterman brought them alongside the steps, water lapping at the sides of the barge, Lennox turned in surprise to look at the Fairhavens. “Are we not going to your home?”
“Oh, no,” said Lord Fairhaven with a shake of his head. He started forward, his greyhound obediently at his side. “Our home is not nearly so grand, and besides, it’s the duke who will help you find the fellow in the miniature, whomever he might be.”
Nora sat up straight, feeling the tension in Lennox’s body even from a distance. “I didn’t expect to be presented to a duke and duchess, let alone become a guest in their home,” she protested. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Because you doubtless would have refused,” Cicely returned brightly. “And now you cannot.”
* * *
When they had disembarked and climbed the shallow steps, Lennox felt his heart clench at the sight of the grand house and the servants coming toward them. By the saints, why had he ever embarked on this unlikely quest? For a moment, he envisioned the achingly familiar faces of Magnus, Alasdair Crotach, Ciaran, and Fiona. Had it been a mistake to spurn the fine life he’d been born to on the Isle of Skye in order to chase after the mysterious aristocrat his mother had loved?