What a Spinster Wants - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,42
accompanying it. “The rest of the family doesna want me back,” she whispered harshly. “Da willna let me return, and I canna…”
“I ken, lassie,” her brother interrupted, turning towards her. “I dinna care. I didna serve ye well before, but I’ll be damned if I dinna serve ye well now.” He reached out and brushed his thumb fondly along her left temple, tucking a tendril behind her ear with the motion. “Piuthar mo ghràidh… Tha mi duilich.”
His apology sent warmth out from her heart to the ends of the fingers he held, the warmth increasing with every beat. Tears slowly rolled down her cheeks, and the stiffness in her spine melted away, leaving her to sag and let the tears helplessly fall.
Lachlan pulled her hard against his chest, his large arms wrapping around her better than any blanket or wrap she’d ever known and twice as snug. “I’m so verra sorry, Edie,” he said against her shoulder. “Ye canna ken how much.”
“Tapadh leat,” she murmured through her tears. “That’s all I ever wanted.”
“I should have said it then,” he admitted, pulling back to give her a sad smile. “I couldna bear the shame of it.”
Edith shook her head and took his hand. “It’s done wi’ now, and Archie’s been dead for years. It could have been worse.”
“Doesna have tae be worse to be uamhasach,” he told her. He cleared his throat and sat back, looking more like the brother she remembered and had once adored. “Now tha’s oot the way, do ye have any food, Edie?”
She laughed merrily in surprise at that. This, at last, was her brother restored to her in all his maddening glory. She supplied him with a light repast, which he found insufficient, and refused to serve him any strong drink, which he was almost indignant about.
“I hold my whiskey better’n anyone else ye know,” he insisted. “I can manage a wee snifter.”
“I don’t have whiskey,” Edith laughed, “and no money to purchase any, if ye were about to ask.”
He raised a brow. “I wasna, but whiskey is cheap, is it no?”
Edith huffed playfully and gestured to her surroundings. “Does it look as though I have money to hand out, Lachlan?”
He finally looked around, then gave her a strange look. “Bide a wee moment,” he said as he rose, ran out of the room, and charged up the stairs, leaving Edith to stare after him in horror.
When the first door slammed, she winced. When the second, third, and fourth proceeded to do so, she rose and began to pace the room. The upper rooms were much worse than the main floor, as no one ever saw them, and they had no funds for a proper staff to keep them up. What if he discovered Amelia hiding there? That would help no one at all, least of all Amelia.
It did not take long for Lachlan to thunder down the stairs once more and return to the drawing room, his expression hooded. “The house is awful, Edith.”
She snorted, despite her fingers knitting. “Yes, I know. If I had money, I would make repairs.”
“Ye’d be better served burning it down,” he said, looking around with a wrinkled nose.
“Then where would I live?” she asked him, wondering how stupid her brother really was.
He shrugged. “One of yer other estates. Forget London. Ye’re too good for this.”
She was flattered by his thinking so but amused that he knew so little of her situation. “Lachlan, do you pay any attention to family matters at all?”
Again, he shrugged, and it was accompanied by a grin. “Why should I? I have no interest in most of them, and Greer is going tae save us all with her triumphant marriage tae someone important, if the rumors be true.” He waved his hand dismissively.
Edith sighed and rubbed at her head. “Lachlan, I have no money. At all. No other estates, no income, and nothing to live on.”
His eyes went wide, and he gaped openly. “But… yer husband… He was rich.”
She gave him a sad smile. “Aye. He was. I am not. His cousin has taken control of everything, quite literally. I have five regular gowns, four nicer ones, and a few accouterments. In the house, I have Owen as a footman, butler, and bodyguard, Simms as a maid, and Cook in the kitchen.”
Lachlan frowned. “Tha’s not right.”
Edith sighed and shrugged. “No, but I canna do anything about the law.”
“So, what are you doing?” he asked, looking concerned.
“Trying to find protection somewhere,” she answered truthfully. “Anywhere, really.”