Part 14 (1/2)
”Yes, Father.”
”Please.” Brigham put a hand on her shoulder before Serena could make her humiliated retreat. ”I can't in good conscience allow Serena to take the full blame. I provoked her, also deliberately. I called you a mule, I believe, did I not, Serena?” Her eyes kindled as she lifted her head. She was careful to lower it again quickly lest her father see she was unrepentant. ”Aye.”
”I thought that was it.” Brigham wrung out his sodden handkerchief.
What Parkins would say to this, Brigham couldn't even surmise. ”The incident was as unfortunate as the insult, and as regrettable. Ian, I would take it as a favor if you would let the matter drop.”
Ian said nothing for a moment, then made an impatient gesture toward Serena. ”Take what's left of that milk into the house and be quick about it.”
”Yes, Father.” She sent a quick look at Brigham that was a mixture of grat.i.tude and frustration, then ran, milk slopping at the lip of the pail.
”She deserved a whipping for that,” Ian commented, though he knew he would laugh later at the memory of his little girl dumping milk all over the young English buck.
”That was my first thought.” Brigham glanced idly at the ruined sleeve of his coat. ”Unfortunately, on further consideration, I'm forced to admit I quite deserved it. Your daughter and I seem unable to maintain a polite demeanor with each other.”
”So I see.”
”She is stubborn, sharp-tongued, and has a temper that flares faster than a torch.”
Ian rubbed a hand over his beard to hide a smile. ”She's a curse to me, Brigham.”
”To any man,” Brigham murmured. ”She makes me wonder if she was put here to complicate my life, or to brighten it.”
”What do you intend to do about it?” It was only then Brigham realized he had spoken his last thoughts aloud.
He glanced back to see Serena disappear into the kitchen. ”I intend to marry her, with your permission.”
Ian let out a long breath. ”And without it?”
Brigham gave him a level look. ”I shall marry her anyway.”
It was the answer Ian wanted, but still he hedged. He would know his daughter's mind first. ”I'll think on it, Brigham. When do you leave for London?”
”The end of the week.” His mind returned to the letter and his duty.
”Lord George Murray believes my presence will help gain more support from the English Jacobites.”
”You'll have my answer when you return. I won't deny that you're a man I would be content to give my daughter to, but she must be willing. And that, lad, I can't promise you.”
A shadow came over Brigham's eyes as he dug his hands into his pockets. ”Because I'm English.”
Ian saw that this ground had been crossed before. ”Aye. Some wounds run deep.” Because he had a generous heart, he clapped a hand on Brigham's damp shoulder. ”Called her a mule, did you?”
”I did.” Brigham flicked his sodden lace. ”And should have moved more quickly.”
With a rumbling laugh, Ian gave Brigham's shoulder another slap. ”If you've a mind to marry her, you'd best be a fast learner.”
She wished she were dead. She wished Brigham were dead. She wished fervently that he had never been born. Setting her teeth, Serena scowled at her reflection as Maggie fussed with the curling irons. ”Your hair is so thick and soft. You'll never have to sleep in papers all night.”
”As if I would,” Serena mumbled. ”I don't see why any woman goes to so much fuss and bother just for a man.”
Maggie smiled the wise smile of a woman in love and engaged. ”What other reason is there?”
”I wish I could wear mine up.” Gwen scooted around to the mirror to study her own hair. ”You did make it look so pretty, Maggie,” she said, afraid of seeming ungrateful. ”But Mother said I couldn't pin it up until next year.”
”It looks like sunbeams,” Serena told her, then went immediately back to frowning.
”Yours looks more like candlelight.” Gwen sighed and tried a few dance steps. This would be her first ball, and her first gown. She could hardly wait to put it on and feel grown-up. ”Do you think anyone will ask me to dance?”
”Everyone will.” Maggie tested the iron.
”Perhaps someone will try to kiss me.”
”If they do,” Serena said grimly, ”you're to tell me. I'll deal with them.”
”You sound like Mother.” With a light laugh, Gwen twirled in her petticoats. ”It's not as though I would let anyone kiss me, but it would be so nice to have someone try.”
”Keep talking like that, my la.s.s, and Father will lock you up for another year.”
”She's just excited.” Expertly Maggie threaded a green riband edged in gold through Serena's hair. ”So am I. It feels like my very first ball. There.” She patted Serena's hair before she stepped back to study her handiwork. ”You look beautiful. Or would, if you'd smile.”
In answer, Serena bared her teeth in a grimace.
”That should send the men scurrying to the hills,” Maggie commented.
”Let them run.” Serena almost smiled at the thought ”I'd as soon see the back of them.”
”Brigham won't run away,” Gwen said wisely, earning a glare from her sister.
”It's of no concern to me what Lord Ashburn does.” Serena flounced away to s.n.a.t.c.h her gown from the bed. Behind her back, Gwen and Maggie exchanged delighted grins.
”Well, he is rather stuffy, isn't he?” Maggie put her tongue in her cheek, then moved over to check her own gown for creases. ”Handsome, certainly, if one likes dark, brooding looks and cool eyes.”
”He isn't stuffy at all.” Serena turned on her. ”He's-” She caught herself, warned by Gwen's giggle. ”Rude is what he is. Rude and annoying, and English.”
Dutifully Gwen began hooking Maggie's gown. ”He was kissing Rena in the kitchen.”
Maggie's eyes went as round as saucers. ”What?”
”Gwen!”
”Oh, it's just Maggie,” Gwen said with a move of her bare shoulder. ”We always tell her everything. He was kissing her right in the kitchen,”
Gwen continued, turning dreamy circles as she remembered it. ”It was so romantic. He looked as though he might swallow her right up, like a sugarplum.” ”That's enough.” Hot and flushed, Serena struggled to step into her gown. ”It wasn't romantic at all, it was infuriating and, and-” She wanted to say unpleasant, but couldn't get her tongue around the lie. ”I wish he would go to the devil.”
Maggie lifted a brow. ”If you wished him to the devil, why didn't you tell me he had kissed you?”
”Because I'd forgotten all about it.”
Gwen started to speak, but was hushed by a quick gesture from Maggie.