All she had to do was bring Harrison’s name into the conversation and the tenor of it would immediately change. Lauren would look sad, and Gordon would no doubt scowl at her. For that reason, she remained mute, wishing she were a better person. Or that she wasn’t feeling miserable and overjoyed at the same time.
He’d always had that effect on her. A smile from Gordon was enough to make anything tolerable. It was the same with his anger. If he was mad at her, nothing would make the day brighter.
“Are you not feeling well?” Lauren asked. “You’ve hardly eaten anything and the salmon is especially good.”
Her sister-in-law was one of the sweetest people she’d ever met. Plus, she noticed things. Even being heavily with child, she didn’t withdraw into herself. Instead, she wanted to know about her maid’s love affair with one of the footmen. Or how Mrs. Thompson’s arthritic knee was doing. She might have been the daughter of a wealthy man, but she’d never put on airs.
Her question made Jennifer feel even smaller and more petty.
“I find that I’m not very hungry,” she said, smiling at Lauren. She changed the subject immediately, looking at Gordon.
“How did you find your father?” she asked.
“Worse than I anticipated, frankly. Thank you for your care of him, Jennifer. No one could have done more.”
“He’s part of Adaire Hall,” she said. “Besides, he’s come to mean a great deal to me over the years.”
That wasn’t a lie. When she was a girl she was, if not afraid of Sean, then cautious around him. He had a tendency to say exactly what he thought to anyone who was nearby. The only people he seemed to respect were her mother and Harrison. Yet as she grew, and especially after she had taken on the management of Adaire Hall, they had come to a meeting of the minds. He told her exactly what he thought, as usual. She did the same. They felt a grudging respect for each other, supplanted by a growing affection. She’d been as surprised by that as he.
“Sally said the physician has been to see him?”
She nodded. “Mr. McPherson. He treated my mother.”
“Is there anything more that can be done?”
Although the topic was not one normally discussed at dinner, she wasn’t going to dissuade Gordon from asking questions. At least he was talking to her.
“Not according to the doctor.”
The prognosis for Sean was grim. In actuality, he had outlived the doctor’s estimation. No doubt because proving him wrong would give Sean some satisfaction. The man might be ill, but his stubbornness was still firmly intact.
In that regard Gordon was just like his father.
Jennifer was barely looking at him, and the only conversation they’d exchanged had been about Sean. Even Lauren glanced at her from time to time, as if Jennifer’s behavior was unusual. Nor was she eating. She merely pushed the salmon around her plate a few times.
He’d always been able to read her, and if he wasn’t wrong, she was angry.
“Do you think the cook has made any tarts for dessert?” Lauren asked.
“I’ll go see, shall I?” Jennifer smiled, and before the footman could get to her chair, pushed it back and stood. In seconds she was gone from the room, leaving him alone with Lauren.
“I think she’s upset,” Lauren said, staring after her. “I don’t know why.”
“It’s me.” Gordon smiled at her, but the expression of worry remained on Lauren’s face.
Her complexion was the color of cream, her soft brown eyes surrounded by long lashes. Her features were small, especially her rosebud mouth, but she was a pretty girl. No doubt she’d been raised to believe that being pretty was her most important attribute.
She did everything prettily, as if she’d rehearsed the most pleasing aspect of each task. She’d sat at the table, taken up her napkin, and eaten her dinner in the same fashion. Even the way she’d half walked, half swayed to the table had been done in a pretty way.
He’d thoroughly enjoyed Lauren’s company. At the same time, he knew that she would drive him to distraction in a matter of weeks.
She was, regrettably, one of those women who didn’t have a single original idea or thought. She parroted well, plus she’d hung on to his every word for the entire dinner. All in all, the characteristics of a perfect hostess.
If Jennifer had been herself, she would have argued with him by now. She would have challenged his assumptions or his observations. Except that Jennifer was barely talking to him.
She returned in minutes to announce that there was pudding for dessert, but no tarts. Lauren looked disappointed, but her smile was back in minutes.
“I probably shouldn’t have had a tart anyway,” she said, glancing at Gordon then Jennifer.
He stood, excusing himself and explaining that he wanted to get back to the cottage to see Sean. Both women nodded at him.
Jennifer kept her gaze on the floor. Evidently, the patterned carpet held a great deal of interest for her.
He would have asked her what was wrong if she’d been the same person he’d known all his life. It was evident that she’d changed in the past five years. Gone was the girl he’d loved, and in her place was a woman he didn’t recognize.
All these years he’d held out hope that McBain had lied. This homecoming was a great deal harder than he’d anticipated.
He left the room without another glance in Jennifer’s direction.
Chapter Eight
Jennifer had never been a coward. Granted, she lived a safe existence at Adaire Hall. When she was a child, she’d had to be brave to be Gordon’s companion. Grown, however, she faced few challenges.
At dinner tonight she’d been a shadow of herself, when all along what she wanted to do was to ask Gordon why he’d never answered one of her letters. Why hadn’t he returned before now? And, the most important question, why had he simply left without a word to her?
Had her brother and Mr. McBain been right all along? Had he tired of her? Or, had he thought his future was more interesting than she was?
All of those questions needed to be answered, but all she’d done was simply sit there mute, listening to Gordon and Lauren’s conversation.
When she had participated, her comments had been downright drivel.
Where was her courage?
Yes, this Gordon was different, but so was she. In the past five years she’d shouldered a tremendous responsibility. She’d made decisions that were important for the well-being of everyone who lived at Adaire Hall.
Why, then, had she acted the coward around Gordon?
The fact that she was pacing in front of the window was a symptom of her annoyance. So, too, the fact that she hadn’t readied for bed. How could she possibly sleep, being as irritated as she was?
Without thinking, she grabbed her shawl and headed for the door.
Gordon was surprised that nothing he’d seen so far had changed. It was as if time had simply stopped at Adaire Hall. No additional cottages had been built. No more of the land had been set aside for gardens or any other use.
He’d felt a yearning for Scotland over the years, wanting to feel the wind through the strath, see the lights in the sky in the winter, and experience the endless days during summer in the Highlands.