I watched her prone form suspiciously, but her eyes were closed and her face, for the moment, relaxed and free of the pallid cast it had taken on so frequently over the past few days. I decided to hold my tongue, in hopes that she might actually be resting.
Unfortunately, that left me all too alone with my thoughts of Gage, my worries about Alana’s health, and my anxiety over society’s reaction to my arrival in Edinburgh. I realized I preferred to argue with my sister.
CHAPTER TWO
True to Philip’s word, a few hours later we stopped at an inn on the outskirts of Linlithgow and piled out of the carriages and into the private parlor he had procured for us. Typical of a roadside tavern, the furniture was shabby and worn, but its cleanliness and sturdy construction were a testament to the innkeeper’s pride in his establishment. The ruddy man grinned cheerily as he ushered us into the room before bending over the enormous rough stone fireplace to add more wood to the flames.
By the time the meal was delivered and the children settled, Alana’s illness had subsided enough to allow her to eat. Philip spread butter across a slice of fresh-baked bread while I piled small amounts of string beans and apple compote on her plate. By unspoken agreement, we all knew the slices of mutton in rich gravy would be too much for Alana’s tremulous stomach.
Trying to ignore my sister’s strained expression as she nibbled at her bread, I sliced into my meat and turned to Philip. “Did you speak with that rider who passed us a few miles back?” An approaching horse’s canter had slowed to a trot as it came upon our carriage and when I peered through the window, it was to see Philip’s steed dropping back.
He made a grunt of remembrance and set aside his knife to reach into the pocket inside his navy blue frock coat. Swallowing the bite of food in his mouth, he unfolded the letter. “It was a messenger sent by my aunt Jane. You remember Lady Hollingsworth?”
I nodded. She had attended Alana’s house party at Gairloch Castle a few months back, along with two of her children. I had grown quite fond of Philip’s cousins, but chosen largely to avoid his aunt, a rather formidable matron who felt no qualms about making known her disapproval of me. To the Dowager Marchioness of Hollingsworth, society and decorum were everything, and I was considered far too disreputable.
My sister was also not particularly fond of her husband’s aunt, though, for the sake of familial harmony, she tried to keep her disparaging thoughts to herself. Unfortunately the aversion was mutual, and Lady Hollingsworth was not so circumspect. Alana and I shared a look of wariness.
Philip continued on, either oblivious to or choosing to ignore our unspoken exchange. “It appears my cousin Caroline is engaged.”
Alana looked up at her husband in surprise, a welcome flush of color entering her cheeks. “Oh, but that’s wonderful. Do we know the groom?”
“We do.” Philip smiled. “It’s none other than our Mr. Dalmay.”
I leaned forward. “Michael Dalmay?”
“One and the same.”
“I didn’t know Caroline and Michael were acquainted.”
“Apparently so.”
Alana forked a bite of her beans. “Now I understand why he expressed so much regret about not being able to attend our house party in August. He must have been courting Caroline even then.” She paused, her head tilted in thought. “I wonder why your aunt never mentioned the possibility of such a match.”
I was thinking much the same thing. I would have thought Lady Hollingsworth would have considered a possible alliance with the wealthy and well-connected Dalmays something to crow over.
Alana’s eyes dropped to the note in her husband’s hands. “So she went to the great trouble of sending a messenger to find us on the road to Edinburgh just so that she could share such news?”
His smile faded and he glanced back at the missive. “I’m afraid not. It appears there is some kind of unforeseen problem with Caroline’s betrothal.”
Alana and I shared another speaking glance.
“What kind of problem?” I queried.
His brow furrowed. “She doesn’t say. But she pleads with me to join her at Dalmay House immediately.”
“She doesn’t say anything more?” Alana leaned forward to see the letter Philip held.
He tilted it so that she could read it. “I’m afraid not.” He sighed. “Aunt Jane is never one to elaborate when she thinks demands and histrionics will get her way.”
“But surely she would give you some clue as to the source of the trouble,” I pressed. Lady Hollingsworth was a woman used to having her every request met with the bare minimum of effort on her part, but I would have expected her to treat her nephew with more consideration.
Philip’s face tightened, likely entertaining a similar thought. “Not even a hint.”