by Mary Birk
Stirling looked relieved. “Speaking of Reid, why don’t I take you over to him?”
“No.” The vehemence in her voice surprised both of them. She’d thought she’d had herself under control. She said more quietly, “No, thank you.”
“I see.” Stirling said, and she thought he did. “Is he being an arse?”
She felt the tears start and quickly dabbed them away, trying to compose her face. “I’m sorry. It’s just postpartum hormones, very normal.”
He took her arm, his touch gentle, and led her over to one of the couches on the periphery of the room. “Don’t you dare cry. You’ll ruin my reputation. Making beautiful women happy is what I live for.”
She sniffed but smiled, and let him guide her to sit down. “You’re outrageous.”
“That’s better.” He wiped his fingers underneath her eyes. ‘You don’t want to mess up that pretty face.”
“You don’t need to stay here with me. You should go find some lovely girl to talk to.”
“I found a lovely girl to talk to. What’s going on with you two?”
“I really can’t say.” She pulled her cape more tightly around her.
“Can’t or won’t?”
“I’m supposed to wait until after the holidays when he tells everyone.”
“Tells everyone what?” Stirling’s voice was so gentle, interested, not at all like the playboy Terrence had made his friend out to be.
She shrugged. “It’s supposed to be a secret, but almost everyone seems to know already. Not his parents, though.”
“Then you might as well tell me.”
She made a little face. “We’re getting an annulment.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Believe it.”
“Is that what you want?”
“I’m not the kind of wife he wants.”
“As far as I can tell, you’re the only woman he wants.” He raised one eyebrow. “He hasn’t taken his eyes off you all night. He’s watching us now.”
“Where?” She felt an anxiety that made no sense. What was he going to do to her? Tell her he didn’t want to be married to her? She already knew that.
“Over there.” He motioned with an almost imperceptible nod to where Terrence stood in a group of others.
Her husband’s eyes were indeed on her. Her heartbeat quickened. He looked so good in his tuxedo; his dark hair and ruddy complexion contrasted with the suave elegance of the beautifully-cut clothes. But he was too thin. He didn’t used to have that gauntness about him and his hair had acquired more silver streaks than when she’d last seen him. He’s not eating right, and he’s working out too much.
When he saw her looking at him, he motioned for her to come over. She shook her head, and he glared at her, then turned away abruptly.
Stirling gave a low whistle. “You must have done something to make him really mad. He’s practically got black smoke coming out of his ears. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this.”
“It’s a long story.”
“I have time.”
“There’s not enough time in the world.”
“Give it a try.”
“No point. See that girl with him? That’s my replacement. Pretty, isn’t she?” Miranda’s black taffeta dress was beautiful, but extremely low cut—back and front. She wondered if Terrence thought the other woman should cover up too, or if that was a rule just for discarded and disgraced wives.
“Miranda? Nah, she’s no competition for you.”
“He thinks so.”
“No, he doesn’t. He can’t keep his eyes off you.”
“Ha. He’s made it abundantly clear he’s finished with me.”
“He’s going crazy just watching us. I’m afraid my reputation precedes me.”
“It’s not you. It’s me.” She gave a little twist of a smile. “My reputation, my behavior, my everything.”
“You sure you don’t want me to take you over there?”
“Absolutely positive. The goal is to stay away from him.”
“Then we’ll just stay here.”
“Thanks.”
“May I take your cape off for you?”
“No, thanks. I’m using it to cover up this idiotic dress. Another thing he’s not happy about.” She jerked her chin behind her, gesturing. “The back is too low.”
“Let me see.” He untied the cape, slipped it off, and examined her back. “There’s nothing wrong with the back of the dress. It looks perfect for the occasion.” He nodded toward the rest of the room. “You’re much more covered up than most of the ladies here.”
She pulled the cape back up, refastened it around her neck. “Thanks, but I think I’d better keep the cape on. Terrence doesn’t like the dress, and this,” she put a hand out, encompassing the room, “is his world.”
“He must be daft.”
“Let’s talk about something else.”
Stirling’s entertaining patter soon had her laughing and talking naturally. For a few moments, she was actually having fun, at least until she looked up and saw her husband standing in front of them, his face unsmiling.
Stirling didn’t miss a beat. “Reid, have a seat. We were just talking about my new yacht. I’ve got it docked off in the south of Spain at present. I was asking Anne if she liked going out to sea. Maybe you two could come out with me.” Stirling rested his hand on her shoulder.
Terrence leaned over and took Stirling’s hand off of her. “She’s still nursing Michael. She can’t leave him that long. And you’re not interested in babies. Just the women.”
Stirling’s face took on a look of mock affront. “I take babies along with the mothers whenever necessary. The most beautiful women are generally mothers, too. Don’t you agree?”
Terrence ignored his friend, and spoke to Anne. “Come on, let’s dance.”
The sudden change of subject jolted her. “The dancing hasn’t even started.”
“It’s starting soon. Come on. It’s expected of us.”
“No, thank you. I don’t feel like dancing.”
“Then maybe you should go check on Michael. Show some interest in our child.”
Anne felt his words like a kick in the stomach. She suppressed the urge to kick back. This wasn’t the time or the place. “I’ll do that.” She looked over at Stirling. “It was nice to see you again, John.”
“And you, Anne.”
She moved away, trying for dignity, but not before she heard Stirling’s disgusted words. “Reid, you’re a shite.”
Anne, taking deep breaths to calm herself, made her way over to where her mother had the baby. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll take over now.”
“Sweetheart, I’m happy to watch him. Take your time, visit with the other guests.”
She shook her head. “I’ve visited enough for now. Besides, I feel a little embarrassed going around by myself trying to talk to a bunch of strangers.”
“What about Terrence?”
“What about him?” Anne flicked a finger under her eyes to wipe away the tears that had leaked out.
“I could kill him.” Her mother looked at her with a fury Anne had seldom seen on the normally amiable face.
“It’s okay, Mom, I don’t care. We’re not together like that anymore; it’s not fair to expect that of him. It’s okay. And truthfully, I’d rather sit now. I am a little tired.”
“You don’t have to stay down here. You can plead exhaustion and go to bed. No one would blame you.”
Anne nodded. “I will in a little while. I’m only staying long enough not to look rude. Lady Wynstrathe went to a lot of trouble to put this together.”
“In that case, my darling, I’ll go check on my other grandchildren. They’ve made friends and are running wild.” Her mother put her arm around her and kissed her on the cheek.
After her mother left, Anne focused on watching the rest of the guests. That so many people had made time to come even though it was Christmas Eve, showed the respect in which the family was h
eld. She was glad Michael would have this legacy here in Scotland. She wanted this for him.
The music changed, and someone announced it was time for the dancing to begin. She watched as the Earl and Lady Wynstrathe took the floor, motioning for everyone to join them in the first reel. Good, a reel would be fun to watch. She sat back and scanned the dance floor to check on whether her sisters were participating, and whether it looked like they were having fun. She found the two of them in a group of people. They were both smiling and talking. Anne let herself relax, satisfied they were, at least for the moment, enjoying themselves.
She turned her gaze and saw her husband coming over to her. She wanted to groan. Not again.
Barely looking at her, he spoke. “People will expect us to dance this first dance together.”
She motioned to the sleeping baby. “Make up your mind. You just sent me over here to watch Michael. To show some interest in him, I think is what you said.”
“For God’s sake, Anne, John Stirling’s got a reputation. He was putting his hands all over you, and damn it, you were letting him. People were watching.”
“He wasn’t putting his hands all over me. He was just being nice.”
“Are you just thick, or do you really not know how to behave properly?”
His words stung. “Probably both. Maybe you can find a better behaved woman who’s not an idiot to dance with. I’ll stay with Michael.”
“I didn’t say you were an idiot. We can see him from the dance floor, Anne. He’s sound asleep.”
She pressed her lips together in the pretense of a smile. “I don’t feel like dancing.”
“I’ll sit with you, then.”
“Please don’t. It’s good we can be civil and celebrate an important event in Michael’s life together, but we don’t need to pretend it’s anything else.”
“We can dance one dance together.”
“That’s all right—you dance. I’ll watch.”
His eyes narrowed. “I suppose Grainger wouldn’t like it if you danced with me.”
Anne bit her lip. “Probably not.”
He stood there, looking like he wanted to say something. Finally, he spoke. “Are you cold?”
“Cold? No.” Anne tried to gauge the room’s temperature. “Do you think it’s too cold for Michael?” She reached down to make sure the baby was covered up.
“I meant because you’re still wearing your cape. No one can see your dress.”
“You’re giving me a headache, Terrence. I thought you wanted me to keep it on to cover up the back of the dress. I thought you thought it was too . . . whatever.”
“What are you talking about?”
“In the chapel, I took it off and you told me put it back on.”
“It was freezing in there. I thought you’d be too cold up at the altar. There’s nothing wrong with the dress. It’s fine. You look fine.” He sounded exasperated. “Take the cape off.”
“I might as well keep it on. I’m going upstairs soon, anyway.”
“It’s early, and you haven’t even eaten.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’re certain you don’t want to dance?”
“I think it’s probably better if we don’t.”
“That’s right. You don’t want to make your boyfriend jealous by dancing with your husband.” He blew out a breath as he stomped away. Good riddance.
Most of the other guests, including the children, eagerly took their places and the dancing began. Anne watched the dancers, concentrating on enjoying the sight of so much enthusiastic enjoyment. Although many of the participants seemed to know the dances by heart, the others, like her sisters and some of Terrence’s French relatives, who were just learning, were picking up on the steps quickly with some vigorous coaching from the Scots.
Lady Flora’s dancing skill surprised Anne. The petite woman was an expert dancer, and partnered with George Greene, gave an awe-inspiring performance. The two must have danced together a great deal in order to be able to maneuver the complicated steps so beautifully and in such a coordinated fashion. Lady Flora’s yellow satin gown whirled around as her feet moved quickly around the floor. George Greene, wearing tartan trousers and a wine-colored velvet jacket, matched her step for step. You’d never know these two were divorced by looking at them.
She glanced over the dance floor to see who Terrence was dancing with. Miranda, of course. He was good at these dances and so was Miranda. Anne let herself watch as her husband and the other woman danced. She realized she’d never seen him paying attention to another woman like that. Ever since she’d met him, he’d only paid that kind of attention to her.
She didn’t feel jealous, just like she was observing something strange from a distance. Maybe someone like Miranda was a better match for him, and would make him happy. God knows she didn’t seem to. She looked away, and then down at the baby who was still sound asleep.
“You don’t want to dance?”
She looked up and saw Rodney Greene smiling down at her. He had a nice smile, much nicer than Miranda’s, although maybe, Anne conceded, she was unfairly prejudiced against the woman. She shook her head. “Not me. How about you? Where’s Krystal?”
“She’s dancing with Lance. I begged him to help me out. I’m not sure I’ve the energy for this dance.” He motioned to where the young woman was earnestly following Lance’s lead. “I thought I’d come talk to you.” He looked like Miranda, Anne decided. Same dark hair, same slight build, same attention to style and fashion. She’d say he looked dapper if it weren’t such an old fashioned word.
“Your parents are great dancers.”
“That they are. They were always fantastic at dancing together. Just not at being married.”
“I guess that’s something, anyway. They seem to still get along.”
“Most of the time.”
Rodney gestured toward the dance floor. “I hope Miranda dancing with your husband doesn’t bother you. Especially since they used to . . . date. Before he met you, of course.”
Anne shook her head. “He can dance with whoever he wants.”
“Miranda was devastated when he married you.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that. Terrence never mentioned her, or for that matter anyone else, to me.” She watched the dance floor. “They look good together.”
“As long as she’s happy, I’m fine with whatever she wants.”
“I wouldn’t mind having a brother like you.”
“It’s been, what, three years, since you were last here?”
“Something like that. I remember you were in investments?”
He nodded. “Still am. Financial portfolios, stocks, funds, that kind of thing.”
“How’s it going?”
“Up and down. The market’s been somewhat of a terror these past few years. But I’m managing to survive.” He smiled. “How about you? You have a job in California, right?”
“Yes. It’s been a good start for me. I’ve been able to work on some lovely gardens and get some good experience.”
“So, did I hear you were quitting?”
“Not quitting, just changing how I do it. Instead of being a full-time employee, I’ll just work specific jobs my firm needs me on. I’m thinking of getting a nanny to travel with me and help me with the baby. I’m still trying to figure it all out.” She bit her lip. “It might be a bit expensive at this point in my career.”
Rodney motioned to their opulent surroundings. “I think you can afford it.”
She smiled, shook her head. “You don’t have to pretend you don’t know. Miranda would’ve told you. This place has nothing to do with me.”
“I assumed you’d at least be provided for.”
“I can take care of myself. I have a decent job, and I’ve caused this family enough trouble. The last thing I want is any of their money.” She swallowed back the lump in her throat.
“He’s insane to let you go. You’re an incredibly beautiful woman.”
> She made a face. “That’s a nice thing to say to a woman who just had a baby and is feeling a bit frumpy.”
He laughed. “You’re definitely not frumpy.”
“That sounded like I was fishing for compliments, didn’t it? Sorry, I’m just a bit off.”
“You’ve been through a lot.”
“Most of it I caused myself.” She felt her eyes tear up. “Can we talk about something else?”
“Yes, of course.” He paused, as if thinking of a subject, then said, “I understand you travel a lot. Where do you go?”
“Good question. It changes. In the last year, I worked on gardens in Italy, England, Scotland, Saudi Arabia, Texas, Michigan, and California, not necessarily in that order. Then I came here for the holidays and Michael’s christening. How about you? Do you travel much?”
“Not a lot. I went to Jersey on business last spring, but generally, I just work out of Glasgow.”
“New Jersey?”
He shook his head. “The Isle of Jersey. It’s not far from here.”
“I could never be in finance. My eyes cross when I look at that many numbers.”
“Then we’re even. I’ve killed every plant I’ve ever touched.”
She was quiet, watching the dancing.
“If you want, Anne, I’d be happy to give you a lift when you’re ready to leave Dunbaryn. Or if you need a place to stay in Glasgow, I have two extra rooms.”
She shook her head, touched by his kindness. “That’s nice of you, but we have a rental car and I’ll be flying out of Inverness.”
A man she recognized as the Reids’ solicitor, Jeremy Stone, approached them. He nodded at both of them in turn.
“Lady Anne, Rodney. How are you enjoying the party?”
“It’s lovely,” Anne said.
Rodney added, “We’re avoiding the dancing.”
“Then I’m in the right place.”
“You’re not dancing either?” Anne asked.
“No, not tonight.” The older man’s smile was self-effacing, and his warmth toward her appeared genuine. “How’s the wee lad doing?” He leaned down and touched the baby’s blanket.
“I think he’s getting a cold or something, though. He sounds a little stuffed up. I’m worried about him. But I’ve only had a few weeks’ experience at being a mother, so maybe I’m worrying too much.”