“But I feel like there’s really too much . . .”
“Bosom?” Eden finished.
Donella wasn’t exactly well endowed, but the tops of her breasts were swelling above the green fabric. “There seems to be an awful lot on display, if you ask me.”
“Fah. Just look at my gown. I’m all but falling out of it.”
“You’re nursing, so it’s understandable that you’d still be rather . . .”
“Buxom is the term I think you’re searching for,” Eden said cheerfully. “I always was, though. Pregnancy and childbirth have simply made it ridiculous.”
“Not that your husband seems to mind.”
That comment was not at all the sort of thing a nun would ever say. But Eden was so easy to talk to, as was Victoria. Nothing ever seemed to shock them, nor did they judge or criticize her. It was refreshing and altogether wonderful.
“You might not be as amply supplied as I am in the bosom department,” Eden said, “but I assure you that Logan is fully aware of your charms.”
An unpleasant thought rose unbidden in Donella’s head, one she couldn’t seem to repress. “He seems quite aware of Mrs. MacArthur’s charms, as well.”
Eden batted that away with an impatient hand. “You shouldn’t listen to gossip, Donella. It’s almost always wrong.”
“Is it?” She hoped so, but evidence might suggest otherwise.
“Yes, and it certainly is in this case. Logan doesn’t give a hang about that dreadful woman. Please don’t let such nonsense stand in your way.” She paused. “You’ve grown quite fond of him, haven’t you?”
Donella struggled not to fib. “You do remember I’m leaving for Galway at some point. To join another order of nuns?”
“Pet, you are no more joining a convent than I’m joining Astley’s Circus.”
Donella opened her mouth to issue a firm denial. Unfortunately, nothing came out.
Swallowing hard, she tried again. “I’m not?”
“You are definitely not,” Eden said firmly.
She winced. “Well, I . . .”
Eden placed gentle hands on her shoulders. “Dear girl, I know something is troubling you. Something is holding you back from expressing your feelings. Feelings that are telling you that the convent is no longer your path.”
Donella rubbed her forehead. “Drat. I was so hoping I was wrong about that.”
“I’m not sure why. It’s lovely to be in love, and Logan is a splendid fellow, you must admit.”
“He is, but it’s . . . complicated.”
“Can’t you talk to him about it?”
“God, no.” He’d probably storm off and murder half the Murray clan—perhaps after murdering her first.
“Then what about Alec?” Eden asked. “Can you tell him?”
Uncle Riddick had suggested exactly that. After that awful run-in between Roddy and Logan, Donella had dashed off a panicked letter to him, asking for guidance. He’d replied that it was finally time to tell Alasdair about her history with Roddy Murray. Since the Murrays were now in Glasgow, it made sense for her cousin to deal with the situation.
Besides, it seemed clear that Mungo Murray had ignored her uncle’s warning, and that meant drastic measures were necessary. While Mungo might feel confident enough to ignore an old man, facing down Captain Alasdair Gilbride was another matter entirely.
“I was planning on doing that,” she confessed. “I’m just trying to work up my nerve.”
“It’s about something that happened when he was fighting in the war, isn’t it? While you were still betrothed?”
She gave a miserable nod.
“Pet, Alec loves you. He would do anything for you, as would I.”
Donella mustered a smile. “I know. Thank you.”
“And if you think you can shock him, it’s impossible. God knows I’ve tried over the years, too.”
“He says you just drive him demented.”
Eden laughed. “It’s rather my mission in life, and I think you should make it your mission to drive Logan Kendrick demented, too. In fact, you’re already doing a jolly good job of it, from what I can see.”
“The opposite, I’m afraid. He’s driving me insane.”
“Then it sounds like you’re perfect for each other.”
“I . . . I don’t know about that.”
Eden took Donella’s hands in a comforting grip. “All I can advise is to give yourself a chance and give Logan a chance. You might be surprised at what could happen.”
Perhaps she was right. Perhaps it was time to stop being afraid.
“All right. I’ll try.”
Her cousin wagged a finger. “Obviously, that means you can’t keep avoiding him.”
“But it’s so much easier that way,” she said with a weak smile.
“Trust me. You can try, but the chickens always come home to roost.”
Donella rose from the dressing table. “They already have, and I’m afraid they’ve made quite the mess.”
* * *
Logan craned around, trying to spot Donella in the throng. Scots didn’t make a fuss about Christmas, but that hadn’t stopped what seemed like half the population of Glasgow from squeezing into Breadie Manor. The guests were quaffing enormous amounts of champagne, inhaling tables of food like locusts, and having a splendid time being shocked by Papist holiday extravagance. Between the crowd and the Christmas greenery that cluttered every available inch of space, it was a miracle anyone could see ten feet ahead.
The fact that Edie was also missing meant she’d probably gone upstairs to fetch her reluctant cousin. Logan had never had trouble courting a woman before, but Donella was making it a hell of a challenge.
The encounter with Roddy Murray had put the cat amongst the pigeons. Since then, Logan had been working to get to the bottom of the mystery between the Murray and Haddon families, although answers were elusive. He’d fully intended to call on Mungo bloody Murray and drag the truth out of him until Nick had forbidden it.
Not that Logan wouldn’t disobey Nick, but his brother had pointed out that forcing a confrontation would embarrass Donella and would hardly help in the wooing department. Nick had then suggested writing to Lord Riddick, asking for guidance. When Logan did so, his lordship’s reply had all but told him to sod off, stating it was Haddon family business and that Alec would deal with it.
Nevertheless, Logan intended to have a quiet little chat with Alec as soon as he could drag him away from his guests.
After another quick scan, he left the ballroom and headed down the crowded corridor to check the dining room for Donella. Even if he found her, however, there was no guarantee she would talk to him. It wasn’t just the annoying Murray mystery that was holding her back. It was Jeannie MacArthur, too. Gossip had already spread through the city, not surprisingly, given they’d once been expected to marry. And now that Jeannie was a widow and he was rich some people would naturally start making assumptions.
It hadn’t helped that the one damn day Donella had stopped by Kendrick House to fetch Joseph was the very day Jeannie, along with her mother and aunt, had come calling. Victoria had not wished to appear rude, especially since Jeannie’s aunt was married to a clan chieftain, so she received them.
Thank God Nick had been away. But Logan had been trapped with the ladies for a good half hour. It hadn’t taken long to gain the distinct impression that Jeannie and her relatives were mentally riffling his pockets and calculating his financial worth. After making his escape as soon as he could, he had run smack-dab into Donella in the hall, preparing to leave with Joseph. When Logan suggested going with them, she’d all but given him the cut-direct, as had his son.
It was a damn mess, both with Joseph and the woman he intended to marry. He’d better get it sorted tonight or God only knew what would happen.
He reached the main drawing room, set up with a lavish buffet. Tables, covered in starched white linen and topped with silver candelabra circled by festive wreaths of holly and ivy, w
ere grouped around the center of the room. All were occupied, as were the settees and upholstered benches—decorated with red and green velvet ribbons—tucked against the walls. Most of the younger ladies had taken to the settees, drinking champagne punch and fluttering their fans at the gentlemen who strolled by.
It was all so boring that he’d rather wrestle a bear in the middle of the Canadian wilderness.
He was about to retreat when he finally spotted Donella. She was standing quietly behind a large potted palm, doing her best to blend into the foliage. It was a hopeless attempt, because she was absolutely the prettiest girl at the party, though she generally downplayed her looks.
Not this night. Her plush velvet gown, which matched the color of her extraordinary eyes, hugged her gentle curves and displayed an enticing amount of bosom. Of course he’d known Donella had breasts; he’d just never seen much of them. Now that he had, his brain—and the rest of him—made the split-second decision it wanted to see more.
Much more.
Her slim neck and creamy shoulders were also on ample display, since her gleaming hair was swept off her neck and captured in a velvet bandeau. Logan’s hands tingled with the need to explore that smooth, freckle-dusted skin and dip down below the gold trimmed edge of her bodice. She would have lovely soft nipples, rose colored, that would grow dusky and hard under his fingertips.
That wouldn’t be the only thing growing hard if he persisted in this line of thought. If he didn’t wish to erect a tent-pole under his kilt, he’d best get his idiotic brain under control. Wooing Donella was the first order of business, and she would be decidedly unimpressed with rampant displays of masculine lust.
Seeing her as she was tonight, though, would certainly make it harder to keep his hands to himself.
Telling his blasted cock to stay down, he started to make his way over to her odd hiding place. As he got closer, however, it became clear why she was standing in the shadows, as still as a marble statue. She was as pale as one too, but for the angry flush coloring her cheekbones.
“Oh, my dear,” said an attractive blond girl, seated on the bench in front of the large palm. “Surely you’ve heard about Donella Haddon and her mother. It’s outrageous.”
Her companion, a young woman with a large feathered fan, leaned closer and flapped like a deranged parrot. “Not a word. Do tell.”
“You mustn’t say anything, because I promised Mrs. . . . er, the person who told me . . . that I wouldn’t breathe a word.”
“My lips are sealed,” her friend solemnly affirmed.
Anger started a slow burn in Logan’s gut. While Donella was obviously too embarrassed to do anything about the gossiping chits, he certainly wasn’t.
But as he started forward, her glance darted over to meet his. She shook her head in clear warning. When he lifted an inquiring brow, she waved a hand, telling him to retreat.
No bloody way.
Since it was obvious she didn’t want him interfering, he simply held his ground, biding his time.
“From what I heard,” said the blond girl, “there was quite a horrendous scandal. And Lord Riddick was forced to cover it up with quite a bit of money.”
The fan lady all but flapped up a gale. “You mean a scandal about Miss Haddon’s mother? What happened?”
“It had to do with Miss Haddon’s betrothal to Captain Gilbride. Which was quite another scandal, you know. Apparently, he didn’t wish to marry her, so he ran away.”
“I know that,” Fan Lady said impatiently. “Then he came back ten years later with Eden Whitney. Imagine, bringing home the girl you intend to marry, right under your fiancée’s nose.”
“Yes, but that’s not the truly shocking part.”
“It seems quite shocking to me. I heard she became his lover, even before he broke if off with Miss Haddon.”
Logan’s anger flared hotter. They were gossiping about their host and hostess, whose hospitality they were happy to accept all while spreading ugly rumors about them.
As if sensing his fury, Donella again glanced over and gave a firm shake of her head. Trust me, she mouthed.
Logan answered with a terse nod, even though it went against every instinct.
“And Mrs. Gilbride is from London, you know,” Fan Lady added. “She had quite the reputation before she arrived in Scotland.”
“True, but that’s not the really scandalous part,” said the blonde. “It’s the business after Miss Haddon broke off the engagement. Apparently, her brother challenged Captain Gilbride to a duel and almost killed him.”
Donella rolled her eyes. Clearly, nothing of the sort had happened, or Logan would have heard about it, too.
“One can hardly blame her brother,” said Fan Lady, looking dubious. “But I don’t know about the almost-killing part. Gilbride and Miss Whitney were married only a few weeks after the betrothal was broken off.”
Her friend waved an imperious hand. “Silly details. It’s what happened next that’s important.”
“Well, what?”
The blonde leaned in close, although she didn’t bother to lower her voice. “Miss Haddon’s mother went insane. Apparently, the broken engagement and the subsequent duel were too much for her reason. She went entirely mad and had to be locked away.”
Her friend slapped the oversized fan to her chest. “That’s simply awful,” she said in tones of delight. “Is she still locked away?”
“Yes, in one of those dreadful asylums where they stick mad people.”
Now that was complete bollocks. Logan glanced at Donella again, but this time she refused to meet his eye.
Fan Lady looked dubious again. “That doesn’t really sound like something Lord Riddick would do. He’s a very respectable man, and an earl, after all.”
“I can assure you that I heard this from an unimpeachable source,” the blonde insisted.
“If you say so. I feel a bit sorry for Miss Haddon. It can’t be very nice to have your mamma locked away for being insane.”
“Don’t feel sorry for her, my dear. She’s almost as unstable as her mother. Why else do you think Lord Riddick shipped her off to that convent in the middle of nowhere?”
“I assumed it was because Captain Gilbride broke her heart, so she took the veil.”
This time, Donella looked at Logan and again rolled her eyes. His stomach unclenched a bit. She’d been looking devastated for a few moments, listening to that awful talk about her mother.
“Don’t be silly,” said the first girl. “The Haddons aren’t even Catholic. Lord Riddick sent her off because Donella became hysterical. It would be rather too much to have both her and her mother in an asylum, so he consigned her to the convent instead. God knows why they let her out, since she’s obviously a danger to herself and others.”
Her friend flapped her fan with dizzying force. “I did hear something about an episode with Mrs. Ferguson, but I thought it was an accident.”
“It was no accident. Miss Haddon deliberately attacked the poor woman.” The blond girl shook her head. “It’s entirely outrageous that they let her out, so she’d be free to roam about town attacking innocent ladies.”
“Goodness,” exclaimed Fan Lady. “Are you truly saying she’s as demented as her mother?”
“My dear, I think it—”
“You think what?” Donella asked, stepping up behind them. “That I’m insane?”
Fan Lady let out a squawk, just like a parrot, and the pert blonde almost tumbled off the bench. Donella sauntered around to stand before them, casually crossing her arms.
The blonde managed to pull herself together, although her friend looked ready to slide into a dead faint. Logan supposed he’d better make ready to catch the silly chit, although he didn’t feel much inclined to do so.
“Miss Haddon, I didn’t see you there,” said the blonde, making a game attempt.
“Obviously. You did, however, seem to know quite a bit about me and my mother.” Donella tilted her head, frowning thoughtfully. “Perha
ps I am.”
“Per . . . perhaps you’re what?” stammered the blonde.
Donella leaned forward, pinning them with a bone-chilling stare. “Perhaps I am insane. I do have all sorts of disturbing thoughts, and I can’t seem to control them.”
The two gossips were now staring at her with undisguised horror. But as much as he appreciated Donella’s tactics—God, he loved a ruthless lass—it was time to intervene before the nitwits began shrieking in terror.
Or before he burst into uncontrollable laughter, which would also cause a scene.
He strolled up to the bench. “Up to a little mischief, I see. Are you needing a hand, lass?”
Donella gave him an adorably haughty look. “I believe I have the situation under control, Mr. Kendrick.”
The pert blonde jumped to her feet. “Oh, sir, thank God. Something must be done. Miss Haddon is . . . is . . .”
“Insane,” Donella helpfully supplied.
Fan Lady staggered to her feet and clutched her friend’s arm. “Perhaps you’d better take her away, Mr. Kendrick,” she said in a quavering voice. “Before she does something . . .”
“Insane?” Donella again chimed in.
Logan choked back a laugh. “All right, Miss Haddon, I believe you’ve twitted these ladies enough for one night. They’re obviously a bit chicken-hearted. You’ll send them off into a fit of hysterics if you’re not careful.”
“I do believe that was my intention,” Donella replied.
The blonde, obviously the sharper of the two, finally twigged. “Do you mean you were making fun of us?” she angrily demanded.
Donella gave a slight shrug, as if barely caring enough to reply.
“I’d say you earned it too, from what I heard,” Logan said.
“You certainly didn’t bother to lower your voices.”
Fan Lady turned an unbecoming shade of puce. “You were eavesdropping on us?”
“I was standing several feet away and, yes, I could hear you.” Logan narrowed his gaze on the blonde. “By the way, who was your supposedly reliable source? Because that was the most ridiculous palaver I’ve ever heard.”
The Highlander's Christmas Bride Page 26