Page 13 of I’ve Grown Accustomed to My Scot

“You will find we do things differently here,” Rory’s aunt said firmly, as if that was the end of the matter.

They ate, and Grace tried to find something to say. She could not sit here in absolute silence while the other two chatted so familiarly. After swallowing her mouthful of fish, she chose the question that was at the forefront of her mind. “Are you returning to Scotland soon, sir?” Because if he was leaving then the consummation of their marriage became all the more imperative.

“Not immediately,” he said easily. “I’m no’ sure when I will be returning. Now that Callum, my brother, is home, I’ll no’ be needed.”

That sounded as if he felt left out, although his voice was level enough. Was Rory really not needed? Grace felt a flash of irritation at the thought that his family could believe such a thing. This was a man who had agreed to marry her for no other reason than that she desperately needed his help. She had needed him, and he had stepped over that dreadful chasm facing her, and she would be forever grateful to him, no matter what their future held. Didn’t his family know what sort of man Rory was?

“My nephew is determined to visit every den of iniquity in London while he is here,” his aunt spoke drolly. “And take a foolish number of bets too. Tell me, Rory, did you win the last one, the horse race to wherever it was?” She looked up at him with her eyebrow raised.

Rory grinned as if her scolding were familiar to him and not to be taken seriously. “I did. I left my competitors in my dust.”

She laughed, and Grace could see how very fond the countess was of her nephew. And how accepting she was of his peccadillos. She couldn’t imagine Rory ever having to creep about this house, prepared for the next tongue lashing or look of disgust. Grace had rarely known anything else since her mother had died. She was the pariah, but she had willingly accepted the role if it meant her younger sisters were spared.

The first course had been removed and the next was served, and Grace found she was much hungrier than she had expected to be as the aroma of roast beef wafted up from her plate. Ormsby barely ate enough to keep his skinny bones together, and his daughters had learned to sneak down to the kitchen if they were particularly famished and ask Cook for something. Cook had probably been risking her position in the household, but she was always too kind to say no.

At least Grace knew her sisters would not starve now that she wasn’t there to watch over them.

“Tell Grace something of your family, Rory,” the countess prompted him. “I am sure she would enjoy hearing about them.”

Rory met her gaze for a moment, his eyebrows raised in the same manner as his aunt. “I’m no’ sure she wants to hear about people she will never meet.”

“I do want to hear,” Grace said quickly. “Even if I never meet them.”

Rory smiled faintly. “Verra well. Where will I begin?” he wondered, but almost at once he began to speak in a light and amusing tone.

As his story unfolded, Grace found herself drawn into the tale of his parents—the old Duke of Bonnyrigg’s daughter and MacKenzie the gamekeeper—who had fallen in love and married despite her father’s objections. A promise had been made to the duke that the couple would return to take over the castle of Bonnyrigg and the dukedom when the time came. They had lived a free and varied life with their gamekeeper father until the time came to return to Bonnyrigg. Rory joked that none of his siblings had ever lived in a place so grand, and learning to become nobility had not been an easy task.

“But a promise was a promise,” Rory said, “and my father is a man of his word.”

“Maxwell is indeed a man of his word,” his aunt said with a smiling glance at Grace. “The MacKenzies can always be relied upon to follow through with their promises.”

Oh dear, that did not sound good for Grace’s plans to consummate the marriage.

Rory continued on. “The change was particularly difficult for my elder brother Callum. He’s the heir and resents the idea of spending his time playing up to our neighbors. But he’s been clever enough to choose the perfect wife, so when the time comes for him to become duke, Penelope will be by his side, and what she doesna know about etiquette hasna been written.”

Grace had heard the gossip of Callum and Penelope, and how they had eloped. Her sisters had thought it very romantic, and the scandalmongers loved to recount the tale. Now she was listening to the unembellished version told by Callum’s brother, of how Callum had won over Penelope’s scruples and they had traveled to Scotland unsure of their reception. Penelope had soon convinced the MacKenzies, apart from Maxwell, who had resisted for a time only to surrender when Penelope gained the respect of their irascible neighbor.

The countess laughed. “Maxwell is no fool. He knows his new daughter-in-law is an asset rather than a hindrance when it comes to his future ambitions for the family.”

Grace couldn’t help but set her own situation alongside Penelope’s. The scandalous story of Rory marrying Ormsby’s daughter must already be everywhere, and Maxwell would be horrified if he found out. Although Rory did not appear to care about Maxwell’s good opinion when it came to his own actions, that did not mean he would want to injure him in any way. How could a woman known widely as Disgrace help the family’s aspirations?

She sought for something to say to move on from her own uncomfortable thoughts. “You said you have a sister. You spoke of her when you came to my father’s house. What is she like?”

Grace remembered everything he said as if the words were imprinted on her brain. It had truly been one of the most important, one of the most memorable moments of her life.

“Her name is Cat,” he said, with an indulgent look. “She and my younger brother Donal still reside at Bonnyrigg. Donal has loved the one girl his whole life, so there isn’t much to be said about his adventures,” that husky laugh again. “And as for Cat . . . She is everyone’s favorite.”

Grace wondered what it must be like to be everyone’s favorite. Such a concept was foreign to her. She imagined that, nice as it was to be so loved, the pressure upon Cat must be immense. Everything she said and did would be watched in case she spoiled her family’s favorable impression of her. What if she were to lose their good opinion? But perhaps Cat didn’t think like that and therefore never expected it to happen. She had grown up loved and believed it would always be so.

Just then the longcase clock in the entrance hall struck the hour, and Grace was surprised to realize how much time had passed. Instead of counting the minutes until she could politely ask to leave the table or worrying what might be said next, she had been enjoying herself.

But as if the clock striking was a reminder, Rory set his napkin aside and rose to his feet. “I have an appointment, ladies,” he said, with a smile. “If you will both excuse me?”

When the countess looked at him, her expression appeared resigned rather than surprised or reproving. “Must you, Rory?”

He grinned at her.

She sighed. “Well, don’t be late, and for goodness sake, don’t get involved in another duel!”