“And thoughtless,” Coll repeated.
“And a buffoon, just as she described,” Niall put in.
Lord Glendarril narrowed his eyes. “And a buffoon,” he said anyway, “just as ye described.” He took a breath, meeting her gaze. “I figured to push ye into breaking off with me, so I’d nae have to pay the price. Ye pushed back. Ye were inconvenient, but ye’ve spleen, lass.”
“And so?” Eloise prompted again.
“Fer God’s sake,” Coll muttered, then squared his shoulders. “And so, I apologize to ye, Amelia-Rose Baxter. Will ye forgive me?”
He had a fresh bruise on his cheek, while the black eye had begun to fade. Niall had described his oldest brother as a fighter, a brawler, someone who sought out trouble. She wondered how many times he’d previously had to apologize, or if he’d just accepted the consequences. In her opinion, it would have been the latter.
“I will,” she said, holding his gaze. “I didn’t want this, either. You might have even found me an ally, if you’d asked.”
“Aye. I reckon that’s so.” He furrowed his brow. “Ye’ve a sharp tongue. If I had been looking for a woman, and if ye’d been Scottish, mayhap—”
“No,” she interrupted, at the same time as Niall beside her.
To her surprise, Coll grinned. “Nae. I reckon not.” With that he went back to his windowsill and his orange.
For the next two hours Amelia-Rose discovered what it would have been like to have a large family. Even Coll joined them eventually, and while she could from time to time sense that all was not entirely well between Lady Aldriss and her sons, they were there. They were together, and they all seemed determined to welcome her as a part of the family.
It was remarkable, really. Warm, and supportive, and genuine, and very humorous. When Jane, seated by the fire, surreptitiously reached over to claim Aden’s abandoned book of vulgarities, she nearly burst out laughing. If they could sway Jane toward anything bawdy, miracles could indeed happen.
“I have a question,” she said, taking a sip of tea. “Have any of you ever heard of milking cats?”
Aden snorted. “Aye. Sean Ross, one of our cotters. He makes cheeses out of the milk, or so he claims.”
“I’ve seen him do it,” Coll added. “It’s a tad disturbing, even for me.”
Niall twined his fingers with hers. “Ye didnae believe me.”
“You were talking about milking cats,” she retorted, chuckling. “I wanted some verification.”
“Well, now I want to hear about them,” Eloise piped in. “Because it sounds completely mad.”
Lady Aldriss patted her daughter on the knee. “Have your brothers tell you, then. I would like a word with Amelia-Rose.” She stood, gesturing toward the door.
For a second Amelia-Rose wondered if Niall would object, but with a gentle squeeze he released her hand. “Ye said ye wanted a chat,” he murmured, below everyone else’s hearing.
“I do. Please keep an eye on Jane.”
He grinned. “I reckon she’s fairly absorbed right now.”
So he’d seen what her companion was reading, then. Of course he had; he seemed to notice everything. Standing, she followed the countess into the hallway and then down another two doors to a small, neat office. “Yes, my lady?”
“I recall when I first met with your parents about a marriage agreement,” Lady Aldriss said, taking one of the two seats before the desk and urging Amelia-Rose to the other one, “that while you didn’t say much, you did seem to have a very low regard for Scotland. And Highlanders.”
“I apologize, my lady. I meant in general terms, and wasn’t trying to disparage your sons in particular.” She’d been too blunt again. Would Lady Aldriss rescind her welcome now that they were in private?
“When I met Angus MacTaggert,” the countess said instead, “he was magnificent. So handsome and strong, and so very single-minded in what he wanted. Which happened to be me. And I fell for him, very deeply.” She glanced down at her hands for a moment, a rare showing of uncertainty. “Scotland is cold in the winter. Rainy in the summer. Filled with sheep and not very many people. It can be exceedingly lonely and isolated—especially when your husband considers himself too busy to socialize with his peers.”
“Are you warning me away from Niall?” Amelia-Rose asked. “Because he suggested that we spend the Season here in London.”
The countess blinked. “He did?”
“Yes. Either here, or in a small house nearby.” It felt odd to speak about such a future, but here, in this home, she could almost touch it.
“Well.” Lady Aldriss brushed at her eyes. “That is unexpected.”
“I mean, he hasn’t offered for me or anything. We were just chatting. And I know my parents—my mother, especially—won’t be easily convinced.”
“No, I daresay she won’t be.” The countess favored her with a rather unsettling look. “Will you be honest about something, my dear?”
That didn’t bode well. Perhaps she was as unacceptable to Niall’s family as he presently was to hers. Or Lady Aldriss had guessed that her virtue was no longer intact. “Of course I will.”
“You are not entirely … content beneath your parents’ roof. I won’t ask you to confirm that, but I do have eyes and ears. My point, I suppose, is that if Coll had been more pleasant, you might have agreed to marry him, however imperfectly you viewed him.” She smoothed the front of her burgundy skirt with one hand. “To that, you may respond.”
Amelia-Rose grimaced. “I wish I had a braver answer, but yes, I might have.”
“And now in place of Coll you have Niall, who is more pleasant, and more concerned with the happiness of others.”
“I have had four other proposals, my lady.”
“Yes, which your mother rejected because of their status.” The countess sat forward. “My son seems to adore you. I have no objection to a match—as long as you are not encouraging him because you fear being pushed into marrying some old stick with a title. So tell me it is not his convenience and affability and availability you prize, rather than the man himself.”
Amelia-Rose considered all that for a moment. After all the emotion of last night and then today, it felt like a great wave, getting ready to drag her to the bottom of the sea and drown her. “Niall is not convenient,” she stated. “Not in the least. He is good-humored, and witty, and warmhearted, and makes me feel … safe. He is a dream—my dream, Lady Aldriss—and I’m afraid if I fall for him he will simply vanish. And then if I consider it too closely I realize that I have fallen—quite hard—and I know something will go wrong now, and—”
“Hush,” Lady Aldriss said, and hugged her.
Amelia-Rose gulped a sob, and then another one. “I’m sorry,” she managed, hiccuping. “I’m not a watering pot. I’m just so worried. I think he is, too, even though he won’t say it.”
The countess produced a handkerchief from somewhere and gave it to her. “Dry your eyes, my dear. I was raised by indulgent parents, as was my daughter and, I daresay, my sons. A parent … Well, you don’t need to hear my lecture, but I do believe it to be a parent’s duty to help their offspring find the best path and then step aside. Within reason, of course.”
Amelia-Rose blotted at her face. “I have no argument with reason, my lady.”
Lady Aldriss smiled. “Then know that I will help, however I may.”
Someone rapped at the door. “I need to return the lass home,” Niall’s voice came.
“Enter.”
He turned and knob and stepped inside. “I hope ye didnae … Why are ye crying?” Immediately he strode forward and knelt beside her, his kilt settling carelessly around his knees. Niall sent his mother a glare.
“Yes, I made her cry,” Lady Aldriss said, walking over to ring for a servant, “but it was an accident.”
Far from looking appeased, Niall pulled a handkerchief from one of his coat pockets and wiped at Amelia-Rose’s cheek. “Give me someone to fight, lass. Anyone.”