A Scot to the Heart (Desperately Seeking Duke #2) - Caroline Linden Page 0,46
living in those houses. I daresay they’ll own similar houses, and you might well end up mistress of one of them.”
That made the color rise in Agnes’s face, and she made an excuse to go talk to her sister.
The gentlemen joined them soon, but everyone was tired from the travel, perhaps a bit overwhelmed by the house, and when the clock chimed the hour the party broke up and everyone retired.
Ilsa had been given a room at the end of the hall, elegantly furnished like the rest of the house. It was fit for a duke, she thought, even a royal prince.
And Drew liked it.
In her mind she saw him again, standing at the foot of Calton Hill, arms spread wide as he disclaimed any pretensions despite his noble inheritance. Just a soldier, he’d said. Someone who could be a friend to her. Today he had walked through this exquisite house like a man planning his possession of it. It might as well have drawn a bright line between the two of them.
Ilsa smiled wryly. There had always been a line between them. She had seen it, even if she—and he—was tempted to ignore it. But it was real, and she must remember that.
She took a shawl from the wardrobe and let herself out of the room, lamp in hand. On the tour, Mr. Watkins had pointed out one door and said it led to the roof walk. Bella and Winnie had wanted to go up, but their mother overruled them, and then it had been forgotten by everyone . . . except Ilsa.
It took several minutes to locate it, but soon she was climbing the steep, narrow stair. It was a fair but clear night, and when she stepped out onto the broad castellated roof, the wind whipped at her hair, causing her to turn her face to the rising moon in bliss.
She explored the confines of the walk, which only ran along the front of the house from tower to tower. To the east was the vast ebony expanse of night sky, to the west the last indigo rays of twilight. It was too dark to see the long approach to the house, but lamps glowed in enough windows to give a sense of the courtyard below her. The air smelled of fir and heather, and she realized the faint rushing sound was the river they’d crossed on the way here. Was there a more elemental Scottish place than this? she wondered.
“Here I thought I’d have to confess to my sisters that I was wrong about ghosts,” said a voice behind her.
Ilsa laughed. “Why?”
The captain came up beside her, resting his elbows on the stone and looking over. “Mrs. Watkins assured me the house was in pristine order, yet somehow a large book had wandered from the library to wedge itself in the door to the roof. The wind howling down the stair made a frightful sound, too, like a banshee promising vengeance on the intruders.”
“If I’d let the door latch behind me, I’d have ended up a ghost in truth.” She went up on her tiptoes to peer over the wide stone rampart again. “’Tis a long way down.”
“You don’t look frightened,” he said with amusement.
She inhaled deeply. “Not at all. I love to be up high.” A bird swooped silently overhead, a hawk or an owl hunting by the light of the moon. “How glorious it would be to glide on the wind like a bird. Can you imagine it? Standing on this ledge and just stepping off”—she extended her arms as if she would take flight—“to soar into the night.”
“Would you?” He sounded intrigued. “Like Mr. Lunardi and his balloon?”
Ilsa’s good humor faltered. Mr. Lunardi the aeronaut had thrilled Britain and Scotland with his hydrogen balloon ascents a few years ago. “Yes,” she murmured.
“Did you see him? I understand his voyage from Edinburgh was a great success.”
Ilsa said nothing. She had longed to go, had pleaded with Malcolm to allow her, but he refused. She only found out later that her husband had gone with some other men and wagered heavily on Lunardi’s voyage, while she’d been forced to strain for a glimpse of the balloon from the uppermost windows of the house.
“My mother and sisters were amazed,” the captain continued, not noticing her sudden silence. “I received no fewer than three letters about it—how magnificent the balloon was, how high he rose, how far he flew.”