As for her, she was older than most of the women on the marriage mart. If she was firmly on the shelf, she had no one but herself to blame. Gordon hadn’t limited her life. He hadn’t restricted her to Adaire Hall. She’d done that on her own.
We’re better off without him. He was a disruptive influence.
Those were Harrison’s words after Gordon left. Harrison had seemed fiercely glad that Gordon was no longer at the Hall. He’d told her, on more than one occasion, to stop staring out the window like a forlorn puppy.
Her godmother was the only one who seemed to understand.
“I miss him so much. Sometimes I don’t think I can stand it. Why did he leave? Why?”
Ellen had patted her on the back, then kissed her on the forehead. “I didn’t know your Gordon,” she said, “but I imagine that the world was calling him. From what you’ve said about him, perhaps he would never be content to take an easy path in life.”
Ellen had been right. He needed to find his own place, his own way in the world.
Had he done that?
He was a man you would notice when he walked into a room. He would stand in the doorway and every pair of eyes would gravitate to him. The men would feel immediately intimidated, and the women would want an introduction.
There was something in his gaze that hadn’t been there before. A wariness coupled with something else. Knowledge, perhaps, of himself. This was a man who gave you the impression that he knew exactly who and what he was, and was prepared to defend himself to anyone.
She had not expected that he would have that kind of impact on her. Or that she would feel suddenly inept and shy.
She stood in front of her wardrobe, selecting first one dress and then another. Nothing looked good enough. Everything she selected was too plain and serviceable. She had a few dresses that Ellen’s seamstress had made for her, but if she wore one of those, she would look garishly overdressed.
What a choice: to wear something utterly plain or much too formal.
The white lace blouse and blue skirt were going to have to suffice. She attached a ruby brooch to her blouse and surveyed herself in the pier glass.
She looked like a governess.
Perhaps she should put her hair up. If she took the time to do that, she’d probably be late for dinner. It was simply going to have to do. Besides, why was she being so foolish? Gordon had ignored her earlier.
He would probably not even notice she was at dinner.
Chapter Seven
Before she went downstairs, Jennifer stopped by Lauren’s room to see if she needed some assistance. There was no one in her suite, which meant that Lauren and her maid had already descended the stairs.
She did the same, all the while counseling herself not to show any outward excitement. A placid demeanor, that’s what was called for. If he could be distant, so could she. If he could ignore her, she’d do the same to him. She would not be the Jennifer of five years ago. Instead, she would be someone Gordon had never met, a mature Jennifer. Composed, calm, someone who wasn’t overly emotional, but who let logic rule, instead.
He was here. A dozen feet to the dining room door and she would see him. How many times had she imagined him back at Adaire Hall? Too many to count.
She made it to the door of the winter dining room before her heart started to race. She was finding it difficult to breathe, and any thought of being unaffected by Gordon’s presence flew out the window.
Lauren and Gordon were engaged in conversation. They seemed at ease with each other despite the fact that their acquaintance was only minutes old.
A fire had been lit in the fireplace in the opposite wall. This room was used whenever the weather turned nippy because the other family dining room didn’t have a fireplace. The formal dining room was almost never used unless Harrison brought guests down for hunting or a week’s worth of drinking. It could accommodate two dozen guests with room to expand the table even further.
Her mother had loved this room because the windows looked out over the rolling hills leading down to the river. Jennifer had often sat here, staring through those same windows and wishing to be gone, either desperate to meet Gordon by the loch or to follow him up through the hills.
Now she stood in the doorway, uncertain. Gordon noticed her and stood.
“You look lovely,” he said. He’d always been polite, even as a boy. He would have said the same thing to a stranger. Or a woman past the first blush of youth. Or someone unfortunately plain.
She forced a smile to her face.
“I see you’ve met Lauren,” she said, glancing at her sister-in-law. She moved to the middle of the table next to Lauren and opposite Gordon.
“I have. We’ve discovered that we have quite a few friends in common in London.”
“Oh?”
She wouldn’t have known any of Lauren’s friends in London. She’d only visited the city twice in her life, and she’d spent most of the time awestruck by the monuments, the museums, and the sheer number of people.
Most of her time had been spent at Adaire Hall with visits to Edinburgh. She wasn’t nearly as cosmopolitan as Lauren, or evidently, Gordon. Part of her wanted to flee the room. Instead, she sat, thanking the footman who’d pulled out the chair for her.
Lauren, who hadn’t had an appetite for the past week, certainly made up for it tonight. Both she and Gordon masked the fact that Jennifer wasn’t eating much. Nor did she have anything worthwhile to offer to their sparkling conversation.
Lauren had lived in Edinburgh most of her life, but her father also had a house in London, where she stayed during the season.
The only thing Jennifer knew well was life at Adaire Hall, and that was too boring a topic. She could quote how many sheep and cattle they owned, the various acreages being farmed, and whether the salmon were plentiful this year. She knew hundreds of separate details pertaining to the history of her home, none of which she mentioned. Lauren only saw Adaire Hall as Harrison’s home, and there was never a doubt of Gordon’s dislike for the estate.
He’d dressed for dinner. The black suit favored him, making his blue eyes even more vibrant. His was a strong face, with individual features that nevertheless seemed to fit perfectly. His nose reminded her of a Roman statue. His chin was squared. His brows were thick, but so were his eyelashes, keeping his face from being too rough. At the same time, he looked like a Scottish warrior, someone transplanted into the present from the tenth century.
Over the years she’d often seen him wearing a kilt and he’d looked perfect in it. Once, he had hefted a broadsword in the clan hall. She’d never forgotten the sight of him lit by sunlight, the muscles in his arms pulled tight against his shirt. In that moment he’d been a member of her clan, proud, brave, and willing to fight.
He’d never known how often she had thought of him that way. Or how it had stirred her.
Lauren sat with her hand on the mound of her stomach. It was a protective gesture that she had started making about two months ago. From time to time she would pat her expanding girth as if to reassure the baby that she hadn’t forgotten he was the most important person in her life. This dinner might well be the last time she was able to make it down the stairs until her child was born.
While she was probably a terrible person for resenting their easy camaraderie, Jennifer found it difficult to contribute to the conversation. She was being childish, as foolish as when she was five years old and refusing to eat her porridge to punish her mother. Lecturing herself didn’t seem to make any difference. It was quite obvious that Gordon liked Lauren and that her sister-in-law felt the same way about him.