Page 8 of Death at a Highland Wedding

“Used the wrong fork at dinner?”

Gray’s brows shoot up. “Certainly not. Hugh knows exactly which fork to use, and to insinuate otherwise is most offensive, Miss Mitchell.”

“Yeah, yeah, get on with it.”

“The first offense was…” He leans to my ear. “He became a policeman.”

“Okay. That makes sense. I’ve gotten the impression his family is well-to-do.”

“They are indeed. His father is the third son of an earl, which means while Hugh carries no title, he is, point of fact, nobility. At least by blood.”

“Seriously?”

Gray waves us down a side row. “Moreover, his mother comes from a wealthy shipping family, which means when my father became friends with Hugh’s father, my father was the one climbing the social ladder. For me to go into medicine was perfectly respectable for my family and my situation. If Hugh had done the same, his family would have been less pleased, but they would have tolerated it. A police officer, though? He might as well have said he was joining the night-soil collectors.”

“Night soil” is a euphemism for sewage, particularly the solid-waste component that can’t just be dumped out onto the ground.

“But they didn’t disown him,” I say.

“No, in that case, he was saved by the fact that his future father-in-law did not object.”

“Hugh was already engaged?”

Gray plucks two pea pods and hands me one. “Hugh had been engaged for most of his life. To Violet Cranston. They were betrothed as children.”

“That’s still a thing among the nobility?”

“Mmm, actually, it’s more a thing among those whomodelthemselves after the nobility.”

“The upper middle class.”

“Yes. Hugh is the eldest son of a family with both noble blood and vast business interests. The Cranstons also have noble blood and vast business interests. The two families are close, and they saw this as a mutually beneficial union.”

“Beneficial tothem.How did Hugh feel about it?”

Gray sobers as he waves me to a bench near the rear of the garden. We sit facing outward, looking across the lawn abutting the forest.

“To be honest,” Gray says, “Hugh did not think much of it either way. It was a fact of his life from an early age. He would marry Violet who is, like Hugh himself, sweet-natured and kind.”

“Also gorgeous.”

“Is she?” He tilts his head. “I suppose so. We grew up together, so it is hard to see her impartially. But yes, there was nothing objectionable in the match. So Hugh did not object.”

“Wait.” I twist to face him. “Isla said he proposed toheronce. Shewanted to learn under a famous chemist in Yorkshire, and she couldn’t do that on her own, so he offered to marry her and accompany her.”

“Ah. That. Hugh, as you may have noticed, can be impetuous. If Isla had accepted, it would have been a terrible scandal, with Hugh already being engaged. But Isla presumed the proposal was merely a kind but foolhardy offer.”

I meet his gaze. “And was it?”

“Of course not.”

We sit in silence for a few moments. Gray and I both know how McCreadie feels about Isla, and I’d suspected that the proposal was, yes, impetuous and foolhardy, but also honest.

When Gray speaks again, his words come slow. “I do not think Hugh truly realized how he felt about Isla until…” His gaze fixes on those distant trees. “Until it was too late. Or, I should say, on the cusp of being too late. Had I known it myself, I would have acted. But I was absorbed in my studies. Young and self-absorbed and, as you would say, clueless.”

“I can see that.” When he looks over sharply, I smile. “Sorry. I mean that in that situation, I can understand a person not noticing that two people had feelings for each other, especially when they didn’t seem to realize it themselves.”

“Yes, well, things came to a head with Lawrence.”