The Last of the Kintyres by Catherine Airlie Read Free Book Online Page B

sigh.
    “He might need the money,” she said.
    “But—he wouldn’t marry for that reason,” Elizabeth protested immediately.
    “Many a man has done it before him,” Jessie reminded her practically. “And for far less worthy reasons than saving their home. Ardlamond means more to Hew Kintyre than most family houses. There’s the years behind him, and all the Kintyres that served this place without thought of self—some of them with their life’s blood! Ay,” she mused, “a name and a place like Ardlamond can be a grim mistress!”
    Automatically Elizabeth stacked more plates on to the tray, feeling as if a ruthless hand had taken her tightly by the throat and was threatening to strangle her.
    “There—might be some other way,” she suggested vaguely. “If he isn’t in love with Mrs. Hayler.”
    “There was a talk of it at one time, but mostly from her side,” Jessie was forced to admit. “The young master isn’t a man who wears his heart on his sleeve, though. She played fast and loose with his affections before she went off and married money herself, and I don’t suppose he’s ever forgotten that. Or forgiven her. She’d like it all to be the same again, I dare say, now that he’s the laird, but you can’t go back over the years and live them twice!” Jessie drew in a deep breath. “She took the Canadian, and although her marriage didn’t last long, it left its mark on the young master. I’d be surprised if he risks his affections again, even for that amount of money.”
    But for Ardlamond? If Ardlamond were in need of money?
    Swiftly she turned away from Jessie Malcolm’s penetrating blue gaze. Jessie herself did not want Hew to marry Caroline, but that was no reason why she should suddenly regard her as an ally.
    “I must see if I can find Tony,” she excused herself.
    “As like as not he’ll be away with Mistress Hayler in her flashy big car,” Jessie suggested dryly. “Any man’s better than none! The fact that your brother is three years younger than she is wouldn’t make a bit of difference to her, though she’ll tread warily enough when the young master’s about. She’s a fly one, and no mistake. You mark my words, Miss Stanton, and don’t be impressed by her, whatever you do!”
    “I promise not to be!” Elizabeth answered as lightly as she could manage. “She’s not my cup of tea at all!”
    “She’s noticed that already,” Jessie observed quickly. “And her enmity’s not going to do you any good.”
    Elizabeth picked up the heavy tray.
    “It won’t matter, Mrs. Malcolm,” she said. “Tony and I are not going to be here so very long.”
    Why did it matter so much now? Why did her heart feel like lead as she walked towards the kitchens with the heavy tray in her hands? And why did the distant music of the pipes echo and re-echo in her ears, playing the same slow lament she had listened to a few short hours before by Hew Kintyre’s side? A lament for love?
    She pushed the thought away from her. How could she possibly fall in love with anyone so swiftly, someone she hardly knew, and someone, into the bargain, who had been at no great pains to conceal from her the fact that she was only here, under his roof, on sufferance?
    No, the unusual circumstances of their meeting had played havoc with her reasoning and all that had happened afterwards had been strange and touching enough to impress her. Her susceptible heart had wanted to forge some sort of link between the man her mother had loved in her youth and herself, but that had been impossible, and it was madness to suppose that Hew felt any kindliness towards her because of it.
    While she went backwards and forwards between kitchens and dining-room she hoped with all her heart that Tony would return before Hew missed him. But the last guests were thinning out and still there was no sign of her brother.
    As she returned to the hall she saw Hew’s tall figure disappearing into the library with a small, dark man in