"I hope we get the chance to travel there soon," Emily said in the same subdued voice.
His mother sent Hamish a look that told him she was about to issue a command. He was a foot taller than his mamma, but that look still had the power to send trepidation slithering down his backbone. "Go and talk to your friends, Hamish. There’s no need to cling to Emily’s side like a limpet. I’d like a word with my new daughter-in-law."
Hamish caught the flare of sheer terror in Emily’s eyes. "I like having Hamish with me, my lady," she said in an even reedier tone.
His mother smiled at both of them with unconcealed approval. "That’s lovely, my dear. But five minutes without him won’t hurt. Hamish, I’m sure Diarmid and Fergus would love to have you to themselves, while I find out a little more about this delightful young lady you’ve brought into the family."
"Be gentle with her." Although he spoke lightly, he meant it. Mamma had ways of winkling out the truth. It was one of the talents that made her so brilliant in politics.
"Stop hovering over the girl like a mother hen, my son."
A limpet, and now a hen? He wanted to protest at the unflattering descriptions, however much truth they might contain.
Emily mustered a tremulous smile. "I’m looking forward to chatting with your mamma, Hamish. Go."
His heart heavy with foreboding, Hamish went.
***
"Shall we sit by the fire? It’s probably the coziest spot in the room."
"As you wish," Emily said close to inaudibly, although nothing she’d seen in this huge house counted as cozy. She’d attended a dinner here to celebrate her engagement, and of course this was where her wedding breakfast had been held. On both occasions, she’d been so nervous and heartsick that she hadn’t paid attention to anything beyond resisting the urge to run away.
Tonight it was too late to run away – it had been too late to run away the minute Hamish dragged her into the garden at Pascoe Place – and she finally took in the details of Douglas House. And felt sick with nerves all over again. Its grandeur could offer no greater proof that she’d wed outside her class.
She hadn’t wanted to marry Hamish, but looking around this elaborate room, she saw why Hamish wouldn’t want to marry her. Lady Glen Lyon – she might charmingly claim she was now the dowager and Emily held the title, but Emily didn’t feel like she did – moved in the highest circles. His mother must have hoped her only son would make a better match than this one, with an impecunious scientist’s daughter.
As she perched on the couch by the blazing hearth, Emily glanced across to where Hamish stood with Fergus and Diarmid. He was watching her, probably waiting for her to make some faux pas, she guessed. Although to be fair, he’d been true to his word tonight, staying nearby and helping her to navigate her way through all these people.
She mustered another shaky smile. When he crossed his eyes at her and made a scary face, a smothered giggle escaped, more hysteria than amusement.
Her mother-in-law took the place beside her. Hamish bore a strong resemblance to his mother. Both were tall and golden and resplendent. It had already struck Emily as wholly appropriate that these magnificent creatures should come from a place called Glen Lyon. There was something leonine and regal about both of them.
"I must say I’m so relieved to see such genuine affection between you and my son."
"Such genuine…" Emily cut off her horrified response before she said something unforgivable. While she and Hamish did nothing but argue, his mother didn’t need to hear that. "I’ve known Hamish a long time, my lady."
"Yes, you have. But the gossip made me fear that this marriage came about purely to head off a scandal."
Emily blushed. Nobody at the previous family gatherings had dared to mention that night at Pascoe Place. Her heart sank as she braced for a scolding. "I hope all the talk didn’t trouble you."
"I’m old enough to weather a bit of gossip." Hamish’s mother sent Emily a searching regard from eyes the same bright blue as her son’s. "Don’t look so bilious, child. I’m not going to eat you."
Only because they’d just had a good dinner, Emily was sure. "It wasn’t what people said it was," she said in a thin voice. "We didn’t—"
"I know how tales grow as they spread. My son is a man of honor."
That at least Emily could agree with. "Yes, he is."
"And you’ve known him since you were a girl."
"Yes. He was always my father’s favorite student."
"I met Sir John at the wedding."
"He’s not what he was."
"I’m sorry to hear that. Hamish told me of your devoted care for your father. My son admires you most sincerely, you know."