of Ian, in truth. He was a very likable lad. I have no’ the slightest notion what has become of him, as I’ve no’ been home in some time.” She paused. “Eight years it is now.”
Duncan gave her a passing glance before turning his attention to the road again.
Fiona shivered. “No doubt you are wondering why I’ve been in London all this time, but it’s all rather complicated. There are times I long for Scotland, but then again, there’s little for me here.” She laughed. “I’d be living in my brother’s home, Lambourne Castle, which, I can assure you, would be a trial. No one likes to be beholden, do they?” She looked at Duncan. “And besides, I should no’ admit it, for he’s my blood, but my brother is a wee bit of a rogue, he is, and always has been.” She smiled and looked forward again. He was a rogue, but she loved him dearly. “I followed him to London,” she announced, as if her mouth was suddenly connected to her thoughts. “Our parents were gone, and he’s my only family to speak of, really, save my aunt and uncle, but they are getting on in years, aye? I wanted to be close to Jack.”
For some reason, Duncan glanced at her when she said this.
“And now he’s the reason I’ve come back to Scotland,” she admitted, as if Duncan had asked her why. “I fear he’s gotten himself into awful trouble in London,” she added with a soft shake of her head. “Shall I tell you what he’s done? No, no . . . I should no’. The less you know, the better,I suspect. But if he’s no’ at Blackwood, I donna know what I shall do.”
She realized that Duncan was looking at her curiously and she smiled. “He may be a rogue, but he’s always been right good to me. That’s why I followed him to London. Oh, aye, I suppose I would have remained here had there been any real prospects for me,” she continued, as if Duncan had inquired. “Society is rather small in the Highlands, is it no’?” she asked, thinking of her own coming-out. How many had been in attendance—perhaps one hundred people? That seemed so small in comparison to London gatherings, particularly those hosted by the Prince of Wales, which numbered well into the hundreds.
“It’s no’ that I had no prospects,” she added hastily with another shiver. “I had a few.” If one could count Mr. Carmag Calder a true prospect. He was a studious young man, interested in the Greek classics, and could name all of the Greek deities, which he had done for Fiona on more than one occasion. She admired him for his scholarly pursuits, but she’d also found conversation with him awfully dull.
Which, for some inexplicable reason, she decided to share with her driver. That, as well as some other startling moments in her life—such as the day she fell from the window at Lambourne Castle and broke her arm. And the night she was introduced to the Prince of Wales for the first time and couldn’t help but marvel at how intricately and perfectly his neckcloth had been tied. It was precise in a way that defied human nature, and she’d pictured a bevy of valets working on that neckcloth—until Jack nudged her with his elbow to make her stop gaping at the prince.
A hard dip in the road shook her and made her realize that she was indeed prattling on, and she suddenly felt rather silly sitting next to this man, speaking so openly about her life.
She watched the bare tree limbs that passed along over their heads for a moment, and then asked, “Have you been to London?”
“Once or twice.”
She waited for him to say more. I liked it very much or London is very crowded. But he said nothing. “Really, Mr. Duncan, I beg of you, please do stop nattering on!” she said. “Your endless chatter is beginning to wear on my poor nerves.”
She could see the skin around his eye crinkle. He was smiling.
“I’ve been to London, but that was several years ago,” he admitted.
“Aha!” she said brightly. “You are indeed capable of
Duncan gave her a passing glance before turning his attention to the road again.
Fiona shivered. “No doubt you are wondering why I’ve been in London all this time, but it’s all rather complicated. There are times I long for Scotland, but then again, there’s little for me here.” She laughed. “I’d be living in my brother’s home, Lambourne Castle, which, I can assure you, would be a trial. No one likes to be beholden, do they?” She looked at Duncan. “And besides, I should no’ admit it, for he’s my blood, but my brother is a wee bit of a rogue, he is, and always has been.” She smiled and looked forward again. He was a rogue, but she loved him dearly. “I followed him to London,” she announced, as if her mouth was suddenly connected to her thoughts. “Our parents were gone, and he’s my only family to speak of, really, save my aunt and uncle, but they are getting on in years, aye? I wanted to be close to Jack.”
For some reason, Duncan glanced at her when she said this.
“And now he’s the reason I’ve come back to Scotland,” she admitted, as if Duncan had asked her why. “I fear he’s gotten himself into awful trouble in London,” she added with a soft shake of her head. “Shall I tell you what he’s done? No, no . . . I should no’. The less you know, the better,I suspect. But if he’s no’ at Blackwood, I donna know what I shall do.”
She realized that Duncan was looking at her curiously and she smiled. “He may be a rogue, but he’s always been right good to me. That’s why I followed him to London. Oh, aye, I suppose I would have remained here had there been any real prospects for me,” she continued, as if Duncan had inquired. “Society is rather small in the Highlands, is it no’?” she asked, thinking of her own coming-out. How many had been in attendance—perhaps one hundred people? That seemed so small in comparison to London gatherings, particularly those hosted by the Prince of Wales, which numbered well into the hundreds.
“It’s no’ that I had no prospects,” she added hastily with another shiver. “I had a few.” If one could count Mr. Carmag Calder a true prospect. He was a studious young man, interested in the Greek classics, and could name all of the Greek deities, which he had done for Fiona on more than one occasion. She admired him for his scholarly pursuits, but she’d also found conversation with him awfully dull.
Which, for some inexplicable reason, she decided to share with her driver. That, as well as some other startling moments in her life—such as the day she fell from the window at Lambourne Castle and broke her arm. And the night she was introduced to the Prince of Wales for the first time and couldn’t help but marvel at how intricately and perfectly his neckcloth had been tied. It was precise in a way that defied human nature, and she’d pictured a bevy of valets working on that neckcloth—until Jack nudged her with his elbow to make her stop gaping at the prince.
A hard dip in the road shook her and made her realize that she was indeed prattling on, and she suddenly felt rather silly sitting next to this man, speaking so openly about her life.
She watched the bare tree limbs that passed along over their heads for a moment, and then asked, “Have you been to London?”
“Once or twice.”
She waited for him to say more. I liked it very much or London is very crowded. But he said nothing. “Really, Mr. Duncan, I beg of you, please do stop nattering on!” she said. “Your endless chatter is beginning to wear on my poor nerves.”
She could see the skin around his eye crinkle. He was smiling.
“I’ve been to London, but that was several years ago,” he admitted.
“Aha!” she said brightly. “You are indeed capable of
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