The Shooting Season - Isobel Starling Page 0,12

pious?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. You didn’t make me anything! You made your choices, and I made mine!” I justified, my temper rising.

“Your preference doesn’t sound like much… fun, Benedict!”

I was outraged. How dare he! How dare Euan judge me and my choices? This conversation was over. I stood abruptly.

“What we did was illegal and shameful. Have we not both seen better men punished for sharing such affections?” I said coldly, shutting down the improper talk.

“Now, could you ask your man to show me to my room please, I am quite exhausted from my journey.” The easy friendliness was now gone from my voice. My heart thundered in my chest and if the weather and my creaking body would have allowed it I would have run from the hall like the devil was at my back.

“Oh, of course. Forgive me.” Euan said his voice unable to hide his disappointment that I was ending this conversation. He stood and strode to the fireplace and then tugged on a bell pull. Within moments the butler, Mr. Rennie, entered the hall.

“Please show Mr. Hannan to his room,”

The Viewing

Dinner was a formal affair. The gong sounded at six p.m. calling all to the dining room. I dressed in a long black frock coat, matched with a splendid green silk waistcoat; kerchief and bow tie. I made my way down the wide mahogany staircase, overlooked by exquisite Italian Renaissance paintings, and a ghastly array of mounted animal heads.

Although all cities and towns in England now availed of gas lighting, the pipes had not yet been installed here in the wilds of Scotland and so the house was still lit with candles and oil lanterns as it had been when I last visited. I paused before I entered the dining room. The earlier meeting with Euan had tied my stomach in knots. I’d expected, as gentlemen of standing in our later years, we would be formal and stiff with one another, but Euan reached out and touched me without thought, as if it was his right to do so. He was far too candid and made me…feel for the first time in years. I was a stately man of fifty and yet he had an effect on my equilibrium as immediate now as he’d had back when we were boys. I took a steadying breath. I considered it necessary to remind myself that I was here on business. I would stay for as long as it took me to conduct my business, and then I would board the next train south and be back in London on Christmas Eve.

Stepping into the dining room I saw the guests gathered around the hearth to keep warm. All heads turned. It seemed they had been waiting for me. I was pleased to finally meet the competitors who would be bidding on Lord Ardmillan’s private collection. Along with Euan, we were also joined by the family solicitor Mr. Buchanan who would oversee the sale of goods. I noted he gave me a peculiar sour look that I did not understand, but then Mr. Cecil stepped to my side to greet me. We shared formalities and then I saw another person I recognized. It was Ms. Emeline McGovern, a portly woman well past marrying age who, with her elderly father Angus, ran McGovern’s Auctioneers in Edinburgh. We had attended many society dinners together in Edinburgh and her father’s auction house was once my favorite place to be while not studying. It was there when I was twenty-one that I purchased the first item for my true collection. I was glad that Ms. McGovern had not worked with her father then as it would have led to some great embarrassment on my part.

I nodded genially to Emeline and she smiled back. “A pleasure to see you again Ms. McGovern. How is your father? I expected to see him here today. It would have been nice to converse again.”

“Aye. Unfortunately, my father’s unwell and so I’ve been sent in his stead to secure anything I believe is suitable for McGovern’s.” She informed. It was indeed unusual for a woman to be trusted with such a task alone, especially a spinster. A man stepped to Miss McGovern’s side. “I’d like to introduce my escort, Mr. Mitchell.”

Ah, that explained it. I nodded genially to Mr. Mitchell. The look that passed between Ms. McGovern and Mr. Mitchell on introduction told me that he was more than her escort, or wanted to be! I smiled and asked myself why