Chapter 6
With a fresh sweater, she descended the stairs to find the two of them talking quietly. She tried to ignore them but was caught.
Well what did it matter? So she might as well make the best of it. “You say the best tours start on Monday?” She eyed both Ilana and the Scot.
“Would I not know such things?” he said, pulling his beloved’s hand into his elbow. “Come you two, we shall plan the celebration while we dine.”
Then he did the most amazing thing. He took her hand, put it in his other elbow, and pulled her along. Quick as she could, Edwina wiggled her hand out of his embrace, her face redder than a Michigan apple. Did Scottish men have no sense? The beautiful Ilana seemed not to notice, but sure as yesterday’s rain, Edwina knew she must be storming inside.
To make matters worse, Bertilda appeared and looked quite affronted. Edwina heard the puff of air she released in disgust. Was she that unwanted as to infuriate even the help?
Something was amiss.
“Will ye be wantin’ yer special brew?” She directed the question to her employer, but Edwina saw the smirk that lifted Ilana’s beautiful mouth.
“We would,” the Scot said directly.
“Aye,” came the simple reply from Bertilda without so much as the flash of an eyelash.
“Ah, seat yourself here.” He took them to a dining table.
Edwina took the offered chair and turned beet red again. Shouldn’t etiquette have called for him to seat his fiancée first? Something was definitely going on. And it couldn’t be good.
“Ilana, dear, you must sit near me.” Then he swooped forward in a very gentlemanly bow and seated his fiancée.
A breath escaped Edwina’s mouth. All must be well, then.
The handsome Laird Dunnegin had eyes only for Ilana. Edwina sat, elbows on table, until she remembered her manners and placed folded hands in her lap, making great work of viewing the room.
She thanked the Lord when Bertilda entered, tea service upon the tray. The slight noise and activity made the uncomfortable silence more bearable.
It had been her dubious assignment to celebrate the birthday, but it was a load heavier than she wished to carry. Edwina knew she was not wanted here, except by the Scot. He had a second purpose, undetected by her practical nature as of yet.
Breakfast began to appear. Two other young females, dressed in black with white aprons, joined in their service alongside Bertie. A name that more suits the woman, Edwina thought as a smile crept across her face. Bertie did not like the Miss Ilana. That was becoming very clear. Each time she appeared at the beautiful woman’s side, she seemed to wear a sneer that left Edwina quite unnerved.
What was the problem anyway?
Watching the Scot as he chose his silver was more important at the moment. Breakfast in her small apartment usually consisted of a simple bowl of cereal or a tart popped in the toaster. When was the last time she’d eaten at a table like this? Then she remembered—at her father’s wedding. The classy Cecelia had planned the entire affair. She and her actress mother had definitely put on the show for their guests, while her father sat goo-goo eyed at his lovely new bride. She remembered the entire scene and decided even then that her wedding, if there ever was one, would be simple. Profoundly simple.
But now she had to concentrate on what Cecelia taught her that very first year of their parents’ marriage. Salad fork, dinner fork. Edwina sighed. Ah, what’s the use? I’m going to be here only one day, so does it really matter?
The five-course meal ended with a miniature bowl of flam pudding. “This is wonderful, Bertilda,” Edwina called out and knew instantly she had fumbled.
Finally, after a few moments of deathly silence, he said, “Tis only that you complimented the food to the help, not to the host.” He smiled.
“Ah, a foolish blunder indeed.” Edwina took up the Scottish accent.
Alex Dunnegin’s eyes lit up, and he did the most unusual thing.
He laughed. Out loud. Ilana smiled indulgently over the rim of her teacup. The noise rang through the large room and several
persons, all dressed in black and white, appeared at the two doors.
“Something amiss, sir?” Bertilda asked while the others stared.
“Nothing amiss. Go back to your duties.” The Scot laughed again.
“So... there is a bit of fun to be had in a castle.” Edwina could not believe her ears.
Indeed she must have said the words aloud because the Scot’s voice rang out in laughter again.
And again Bertilda appeared at the door, the strangest look on her face. Her prognosis must have been right because Edwina saw her pursed lips turn up slightly before she gave them her back once again.
Had she, Edwina the Dour, a propensity for humor?
Well, was it impossible? God had created the heavens and the earth. Could He not create basic common sense and a touch of humor in the same person?
The thought whisked through her mind. The first of its kind that she could remember. When had she heard laughter like that? Especially to her very own comment . . . perhaps she did have a penchant for humor. Edwina smiled and picked up her dinner fork... or was it the salad fork?