Page 26 of Claiming His Scottish Duchess (Scottish Duchesses #2)

Chapter Twenty-One

“ C han ith a shath ach an cu.” None but a dog eats his fill.

“I used to go swimmin’ with me faither in a lake near Craigleith Hall in the summer evenin’s after supper. He had a hearty laugh and a zest for life that was unmatched. We’d count the tadpoles by the shore and race each other,” Catriona explained.

One evening, as twilight painted the sky in hues of lavender and rose, Catriona sat with Lydia by their favorite window, as it overlooked the lake in the distance.

Catriona stifled a wanting shiver as she remembered just the other morning in that lake.

“One evenin’ sticks out to me the most,” she continued after a moment. “It was near the end of summer when the whisper of the autumn wind was close. It was almost too cold to venture out! Aye, we ran to the lake and jumped off the dock. If we had tried to walk in, we would have lost our nerve.

“The coolness of the water was so refreshing, and the look in me faither’s eyes matched the fire in mine.

It was then we both looked up to the sky at the same time, and we saw a shootin’ star.

A part of me was afraid somethin’ was wrong, I had never seen a shootin’ star before!

Aye, those were the best times for me as a lass,” Catriona shared as her eyes began to water at the memory.

“He told me to make a wish on the star, and to never tell another soul.”

“Could you tell me?” Lydia asked sweetly.

“Aye, I will. I will tell ye the secret, but only when it comes true.”

“Please, tell me another story,” Lydia asked sweetly.

“A happy one, or a sad one?”

“You pick,” Lydia replied, her eyes searching.

“Very well. I’ll tell ye a sad one. It’s hard to tell sometimes, but even sadness is all a part of the beauty of life, lassie,” she started.

“We need to take the good with the bad. When I was eighteen, me faither died unexpectedly. There was an awful accident with a flood, and well… I lost him. But he is always here, in me heart.”

“My papa… he used to sing to me,” Lydia whispered to her.

The words were hesitant and fragile, a small glimpse into the hidden world of her grief and what went on inside her mind.

“If ye close yer eyes tight and listen very hard, ye will always be able to hear those words. Carry it with ye always, Lydia. That will be your secret power, and nae one can take that away from ye. Never.”

“Thank you,” the little girl whispered and hugged Catriona tightly.

For once, the pain of grief was lighter now, for it was shared.

“I was thinking… perhaps we could all venture out onto the grounds. It’s a fine day, and I… I heard you’ve been working on a garden,” Richard said reluctantly as he sipped his morning coffee.

“What a splendid idea!” Catriona responded for her, clapping her hands together. “The sun is already shinin’, seems a shame to waste the light and yer flowers will be so beautiful.”

“Splendid!” Lydia repeated as she began eating her toast in more haste.

Her appetite had returned along with her voice, and the couple shared a smile at her joy.

Suddenly, the butler entered the breakfast hall, announcing the Earl of Mortridge’s arrival.

“Your Grace, pardon the intrusion,” Lord Mortridge said with a bow as he entered the sitting room. “It is a matter of some pressing business, and I was on my way to see Lord Abernathy.”

Richard willed himself to control his temper at the thought of Lord Abernathy, much as he would never be able to admit he was jealous of an old man.

“Very well,” Richard said as he put down his paper. “Ladies, if you could please excuse us.”

Then, Catriona saw Lydia looking up from her toast.

Her eyes widened as her small body stiffened. Lydia’s breath hitched, and the change in her countenance. She kept her eyes cast down, refusing to look at the earl.

“Come, lassie,” Catriona said as she pulled Lydia to her feet. “Let’s take a turn about the grounds and get some fresh air. We’ll leave the gentlemen to their business.”

Richard nodded as the two started to make their leave, his mind clearly elsewhere.

Even as she walked down the hallway, Catriona picked up the echoes of the men’s voices.

“Your niece, Richard,” Lord Mortridge started. “How is the little bird faring with your wife? Has she found her voice yet?”

“She is doing as well as she can. Now, shall we move to the study?” Richard responded quickly, clearly wanting to avoid the subject.

As she and Lydia reached the gardens, Catriona felt like something was terribly wrong.

The shift in Lydia’s countenance was too sudden, too sharp a contrast to the progress they had made. A tightness had formed in Catriona’s chest when she watched Lord Mortridge look at the child.

And his questions?

Aye, somethin’ is nae right.