by Mary Birk
George looked over at the mother of his children. Although they were both older now, he still saw Flora as she’d been when he fell in love with her. Her dark brown hair was softly drawn up on top of her head, and if her features had been accentuated by make-up, the job was done with such restraint the effect appeared artless and remarkably attractive. Rafe Kensington didn’t deserve her, but to his credit, the man had managed to keep Flora as his wife a lot longer than George himself had. No accounting for women’s tastes.
“You’re working as a garden designer, aren’t you? I remember when we first met, after you two were married, you were just finishing your studies.” Flora graciously turned the conversation from Greenebrae to the American woman.
“Yes, but what I do chiefly is restore historic gardens—work with the original designs.” Anne put down her water goblet and smiled over at George, including him in their conversation.
“You’re with a firm now?”
“Yes, in San Francisco. I’m still on maternity leave, although I’ve told them I’m planning to resign. They’ve asked me to reconsider before making a final decision.”
George saw his daughter’s attention turn to what Lady Anne was saying. In one glance he saw the panic in Miranda’s face with the realization the other woman might not be content to be the long distance rival she’d been until now. George asked the question he knew Miranda wanted to be able to ask herself.
“Are you going to?” George asked, taking a drink of the crisp white wine that had been served with the crab bisque. He noticed Terrence Reid had turned to listen to the conversation with an air of casual indifference that to George, at least, appeared feigned.
“Reconsider?” She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. The job involved so much travel, and with Michael . . .” She looked over at the baby sleeping in his basket. “I can’t leave him so much, and he’s too young to do the kind of traveling I’ve had to do in this job.” When Bernard came by to serve wine, she held her hand over her glass and shook her head, smiling.
Flora picked up the conversation. “So what are you planning to do?”
“I still have another two months of maternity leave. Then I’m hoping to do freelance consulting for the firm, and try to arrange it so there’s not so much travel. I believe I can manage and still be able to be there for Michael. Or if I have to travel, maybe I can take someone with me to help with him.” She took a spoonful of her soup. “The man I work for said he wants to work with me as much as I’m available, which is nice, since I’m leaving him somewhat in the lurch.”
The Earl, who had been following the conversation between the two women on either side of him, looked puzzled. “Anne, now you don’t have the job to tie you to the States, I’d think you’d finally be able to join Terrence here in Scotland. This long distance thing has to be difficult.”
At that instant a lull in the conversation at the other end of the table, along with the Earl’s deep bass voice, worked together to ensure everyone there heard the question.
An uncomfortable silence fell over the table. George glanced at his dinner companion, who at first looked startled, then cast her eyes downward. Terrence Reid’s face darkened and broke into a scowl.
From the other end of the table, Lady Wynstrathe spoke. “Charles, my love, I think we should let the young people work out their arrangements themselves. How about a toast?”
George looked over to see the reaction on Charles Reid’s face. The man looked at his daughter-in-law thoughtfully, but put on his genial host’s smile and stood up.
“Excellent suggestion, my love. I think it’s time that I, as the grandfather of the wee babe who will someday be the Earl of Wynstrathe, lifts a glass and asks you all to toast him. After all, he has traveled a long way to come home to his Scottish family and friends.”
As if he knew he was suddenly the center of attention, Michael gave out a tiny wail. Lady Anne went over to the basket and picked him up, bringing him back to the table. After the mother and child were settled back at the table and everyone’s glasses had been refilled, the Earl gave a toast to the baby in Scottish Gaelic.
“Gum bi thu a nooinein bhig, fallin, ionraic, soan air feadh do bheatha gu leir.” And then, in English, he translated, “May you, little baby, be healthy, honest, and happy all throughout your life.”
Everyone raised their glasses.
Chapter 12
DARRYL WAS HAVING fun, Lance thought. Bringing him had been a good idea. Darryl wasn’t having any trouble socializing. And, although Rodney acted a little condescending, his girlfriend had been easily drawn out by Darryl’s interest in her. Krystal talked for a long time about her father and his bank. So, she was rich. That explained a great deal about Rodney’s interest in her. She wasn’t exactly the type of girl you usually saw at these kinds of house parties. At least not at the ones his family went to—or gave—for that matter. She was pretty and nice, but she just didn’t have the same . . . manners, maybe? Lance wasn’t sure what it was.
But Darryl was different. He fit in. You’d never know Darryl hadn’t grown up going to parties like these. He could even talk to Lance’s father, which could be a challenge. At least it was for Lance. His father had always seemed to him to be what people referred to as a cold fish, even with his own family, but he wasn’t tonight.
Darryl’s voice interrupted Lance’s thoughts. “Mr. Kensington, what would be your suggestion for a newly graduating solicitor as far as how to find a place in chambers?”
Lance’s father took a drink of the deep ruby wine with which the Reids’ manservant had filled their glasses. The Reids, having a whiskey distillery, had a deep appreciation for all beverages alcoholic. Lance’s parents often commented on the superb quality of the wines and other liquors served at Dunbaryn, and Lance had bragged to Darryl about this aspect of the castle’s hospitality. They were enjoying it all tonight: single malt whiskey from the Reids’ own label before dinner, and a different wine with every course at dinner. Seeing things through Darryl’s eyes gave everything a freshness for Lance. He was used to this kind of life, but it was fun to watch Darryl experience it. Of course, Lance had to be more careful than others with what he ate and drank, even with his insulin pump. But for him, it had become almost second nature to moderate his food and drink, and he didn’t mind. He listened for his father’s response to Darryl’s question.
“The best way is obviously to know someone who has a position open in chambers. Have you been asking about? Applying at various places?”
“Not yet. I’m planning to start soon. After the holidays.”
“Do you want to stay in Glasgow?”
“I have ties there, so yes.” Darryl flashed that lazy, sexy look, and Lance felt a flutter of pleasure in his chest. He knew Darryl meant him. Darryl wanted to stay close to him.
“Any particular chambers you’re interested in?”
“I’m not particular.”
“There may be a position open with my chambers, if you’re interested.”
Lance choked back his surprise. His father never showed this much warmth to any of his other friends. He couldn’t remember his father ever saying more than a couple of words to anyone he’d brought home. Maybe now that Lance was at university, his friends were finally at a level to which his father could relate.
Darryl took a drink of his wine. “I’m interested.”
“We’re not especially large, but we do well enough.” His father smiled; he definitely approved of Darryl.
Lance was so grateful to his father he could hardly contain himself. A position for Darryl in his father’s chambers would solve all their problems. Darryl would have a job and could quit worrying about money. Even better, Darryl could stay in Glasgow, and they could be together.
“Really, Father? That would be fantastic.”
“Would you like that, Darryl?”
His friend considered, then nodded. “I won’t be finished with my studies until spring.”
“I understa
nd. We could take you on as a clerk until you finish and are called to the bar. You could start right after the holidays if you would like.”
Darryl fixed his father with his dazzling smile. “I would like that. Thank you. You won’t regret it.”
“I’m sure I won’t.”
Lance didn’t remember liking his father as much as he did that moment, at least not since he was a little kid.
“When you finish, Lance, will you also go to your father’s chambers?” Rodney looked from him to his father.
“I don’t know if they’ll have a place there.”
His father gave a magnanimous shrug. “There’ll be a place for you, Lance, if you want it.”
Lance hadn’t realized his father’s practice was so lucrative. But of course his father did well. Look how they lived. That couldn’t be just his mum’s doing.
“That would be terrific.”
Rodney harrumphed in a way that Lance couldn’t quite interpret, then looked from him to Darryl and then to his father. Had Rodney been thinking the same thing about whether his father’s practice could support two more members? If so, he hoped Rodney wouldn’t voice his thoughts. He knew neither Miranda nor Rodney was fond of his father, but he hoped Rodney wouldn’t say anything that would put his father down in front of Darryl. Not that Rodney would do anything like that on purpose. Now, Miranda, that was a different story. She could be deliberately mean.
Rodney emptied his wine glass in one large swallow. “So, Darryl, you’re going into chambers with Rafe, and then Lance will join you all. A family affair. Sounds ideal.”
Lance relaxed. He was so happy everyone was being nice. This was going to be a good holiday for them all.
Darryl’s eyes took on that intense look he got when he was focusing on something, and this time the focus was on Rodney. “You’re in finance?”
Rodney nodded.
“Hard business to be in right now.”
“I’m surviving.” Rodney turned as Bernard refilled his wineglass.
“You’re with Damien Investments, I understand.”
Lance was impressed with Darryl’s memory. He would do well in business, remembering details about people like he did. Lance would have to work on getting better at that himself.
Rodney nodded. “That’s right.”
“You must be up for partnership soon?” Darryl smiled in a way that made Lance nervous.
“Eventually.” Rodney’s laconic answers made it difficult to get a conversation going, Lance thought, but he was proud of the way Darryl persisted.
“I know someone from Damien. Broderick Pooley.”
Rodney grabbed his wine and took a long drink. “How do you know Pooley?”
“Through some people I know.”
“Was he a friend of yours?”
Darryl frowned. “Was?”
“He’s dead,” Rodney said. Lance thought his brother’s voice wobbled a little. He must have been good friends with Mr. Pooley.
A flicker of surprise passed across Darryl’s face. “Dead?”
“They found his body this morning. I’m not sure if anyone knows exactly what happened.” Rodney took another drink of wine.
Darryl’s mouth set in a tight line. “Heart attack, I expect?”
“They don’t know yet, at least, as far as I’ve heard.”
Lance’s father said, “That’s too bad. What kind of a man was he? Family man?”
Rodney shook his head. “Divorced. No children. Devoted to his job.”
“At least he’s not leaving any family behind to mourn him. Perhaps it was a lifestyle issue.” Lance’s father looked thoughtful.
“I don’t think so. He exercised religiously and was fanatical about his health. He didn’t drink or do drugs.”
“So far as you know.” His father sounded skeptical.
Rodney frowned. “I knew him. He used to drink, but he quit. He was a health nut.”
“One never knows as much about a person as they think they do. Darryl, how did you say you knew him?”
“Through some friends. I didn’t really know him well.”
“Then his death shouldn’t be too upsetting for you.”
“No.” Darryl’s voice sounded distracted.
Lance hadn’t heard of Broderick Pooley before. But there were probably a lot of people Darryl knew that he’d never met.
His father nodded. “Maybe we should find something more cheerful to talk about.”
“Good idea.” Darryl smiled, turning to Rodney. “I assume you have an impressive book of clients with these kinds of connections?” He spread his hand in an expansive gesture, indicating the occupants of the dinner table.
“I do all right.” Rodney looked uncomfortable.
“I’m sure. And your investors? How are they doing?” Darryl didn’t drop his eyes from Rodney’s face as he forked in a bite of lamb.
Rodney gave Darryl a look of annoyance, like Darryl was being intrusive instead of just friendly. “They’re fine.”
Darryl chewed, his expression thoughtful, then said, “Not affected by all these problem investments we keep reading about? You must not have had them in any of the Madoff-type funds.”
“No.” Rodney’s face colored, and Lance wondered what Madoff was. “We’re careful.”
Darryl nodded. “Good. I know a lot of careful investors got caught up in those Ponzi investment schemes their advisors got them into. And some of those investors are angry. Making threats.”
Rodney drained his wine glass and signaled Bernard for more.
The manservant approached with another bottle of the red wine they’d been drinking.
Darryl tapped the rim of his wineglass. “I’ll have more too. Mr. Kensington?”
Lance’s father nodded and all their glasses were refilled.
Darryl kept his attention on Rodney. “How’s your sister doing? Miranda, right?” He took a drink of wine, then looked up, his cobalt eyes sparkling as he smiled. “Wasn’t she in hospital a while back?”
Rodney’s eyes turned sharply to Lance in silent accusation, and Lance felt himself blush. He knew Rodney would guess, correctly as it turned out, that he’d been the source of Darryl’s information on their family.
He tried to look innocent.
When his brother finally spoke, his voice was cold and flat. “That was quite a while ago. She’s fine.”
“That’s good to hear.” Darryl indicated the end of the table where Miranda was laughing at something Reid had said. He kept his voice down. “She seems to be . . . interested, shall we say, in Lord Reid?”
Darryl was right—Miranda was acting interested in Terrence. Lance thought his sister was being pretty obvious, and he felt a little sorry for Terrence’s wife even though she didn’t seem to notice what Miranda was doing.
“We’re old family friends. Of course we’re interested in each other.”
Darryl went on, his voice languid. “Oh, I think it’s more than old family friends. In fact, wasn’t he the problem that sent her to hospital?”
Rodney’s face reddened, but he didn’t speak, just glowered at Lance. Lance turned away to avoid his brother’s gaze and saw Krystal looking at Miranda, then at Terrence and his wife, then back at Darryl, obviously fascinated by what Darryl had said.
Darryl smiled and picked up his wine glass. “Too bad for her he’s married now—and to such a flaming beauty. Let’s hope the disappointment doesn’t send your sister back to hospital.”
Lance ducked his head down and assiduously cut his lamb chop.
Chapter 13
DINNER WENT ON without another conversational disaster following the near miss with Reid’s father’s question to Anne. Reid took the child from Anne when the lamb chops were served so she could eat her dinner. He kept Michael in his arms throughout the rest of the dinner, being assisted with his own meal by Miranda cutting his food, laughing and teasing him as she did so. He felt a little embarrassed by her flagrant attentions to him with his wife right across th
e table. God, I’m pathetically old-fashioned, he thought. My wife has a lover, and I’m embarrassed that another woman pays attention to me in front of her.
Anne, though, never looked his way, and didn’t seem to notice or care. At one point he did see Meg looking at him with disappointment. Odd, because she’d gone through much the same thing as he was going through. She’d had an unfaithful husband, and she’d divorced him, so she should be more understanding. But doubtless, family loyalty trumped sympathy to an almost ex-brother-in-law.
When his mother gave the signal the party was moving to the next room for coffee and brandy, Reid made no move to relinquish the baby, carrying him easily on his shoulder, and went over to escort his wife out. As they walked into the drawing room, Anne, who was carrying the baby’s basket, motioned to it.
“You can put him back in his basket. He’s sound asleep.”
Reid looked down at the little face with its cheek pushed out from his shoulder. “He’s fine here. I like the feel of him.”
“Actually, I need to go up to bed. It probably makes the most sense if I take him with me, so I’d appreciate it if you’d put him in his basket.”
“You’re going upstairs already? It’s still early.” He looked down at her, his eyes drawn to the front of her dress and the subtle suggestion of cleavage. Her breasts were definitely larger than he remembered—than he’d memorized. It must be the nursing. He forced himself to look away.
“It’s been a long day, and we’re still operating on a different time zone. If I start getting him on a schedule to get him adjusted to the time difference tonight, I think he’ll do better for the christening.”
Reid tried to hide his disappointment; he had such a short time to be with his son. “All right.”
“I promise you can see him first thing in the morning, and as much as you want to while we’re here.”