The Laird Who Loved Me by Karen Hawkins Read Free Book Online Page B

a—
    “Caitlyn, may I ask you a question?”
    With difficulty, Caitlyn pulled herself into the present. “Of course.”
    “What did you think of the Earl of Caithness?”
    “Who?”
    Sally’s cheeks pinkened. “You may not have noticed him, for he is very quiet and sat beside Countess Dumfries at the other end of the table.”
    “Ah yes. He seems like a very nice man.”
    Sally looked pleased. “I thought so, too.” The talk turned back to dinner and the gowns the other women had been wearing, but soon Sally was unable to hide her yawns and they said their good nights.
    Muiren met Caitlyn inside the door. “Och, miss, how was yer evenin’?”
    “Lovely.” Caitlyn loosened her ties and allowed Muiren to assist her in shedding her gown and petticoats and climbing into her night rail.
    Muiren slipped a shawl around Caitlyn’s shoulders. “Have a seat at the vanity, miss, and I’ll brush out yer hair.”
    Caitlyn did as Muiren suggested, watching the maid in the mirror as she unpinned Caitlyn’s hair and then gently began to brush it out.
    Muiren smiled. “Did ye enjoy yer dinner?”
    Soothed by the rhythm of the brush, Caitlyn replied sleepily, “The food was superb, and almost everyone was very nice.”
    “Almost?”
    “Everyone except Lord MacLean and the duchess, who—” Caitlyn caught Muiren’s gaze in the mirror. “I mean—”
    “Och, that’s no’ a surprise,” Muiren said as she pulled the brush through Caitlyn’s hair. “I daresay MacLean took a likin’ to ye, seein’ as ye’re so bonny and all, and if there’s one thing her grace dinna like, it’s when her beau pays attention to another.”
    Caitlyn frowned. “Her ‘beau’?”
    “Well, not now. They were close last year, but then he stopped visitin’. I dinna think the duchess liked that, fer she was a shrew till he came back, several months ago. Now he’s here, but”—Muiren glanced at the door before leaning forward to say in a loud whisper—“he doesna stay overnight in her bedchamber as he did before.”
    “I’d imagine the duke would have something to say about that!”
    “I dinna think he cares. So long as the duchess graceshis table and makes sure his house runs smoothly, he canna be bothered with her involvements. I think that’s the way ’tis with a lot o’ the gentry—and a sad thing ’tis, if ye ask me.”
    Caitlyn recalled how the duchess had watched MacLean when she thought no one was looking, and how the older woman’s expression had turned more and more sour as the meal wore on. “So he is the one who ended the relationship?”
    “Aye, although her grace’s maid told me this morning tha’ her grace is hopin’ t’ win him back.”
    Caitlyn realized she was gripping her hands in her lap, and she uncurled them and forced herself to relax. It didn’t matter who MacLean was sleeping with. He was an irritant to her, nothing more. “I find it difficult to believe that the duke doesn’t have issues with the duchess’s … proclivities.”
    “La, miss! Did ye see ’im at supper this evenin’?”
    “Yes, but—”
    “Was he e’en awake?”
    “He was for part of the evening.”
    “An’ did ye note that he’s a good thirty years older than her grace? She was practically a child when he first seen her and took her to wife.” Muiren’s voice dropped back to a whisper. “Her grace’s maid got tipsy on strawberry wine last summer, and she once told me that the duchess was no’ born a lady.”
    “She certainly seems to be one now.”
    “Aye, and mighty conscious she is of it, too. She was a weaver girl in one o’ the duke’s mills. Once’t he seenher, the duke had to have her. But even as a lass she was a smart one, and she held out fer a ring. Once’t he married her, he brought in all sorts of tutors, dressmakers, and dancing masters—an army o’ people to teach her how to behave and talk.”
    “Goodness! Does … does everyone know about that?”
    “Only a very few. I know ’tis a