Page 15 of The Highlander’s Auctioned Bride

CHAPTER 15

Pushing all thoughts of James and duty from her mind Maisie decided to throw herself into her new role and went to find the housekeeper.

Mrs. Murray was exceedingly kind and open about her duties, outlining the movements of the staff, the basics of the household accounts, and how they planned the meals each day.

“Me main concern is the oven, m’lady,” she was saying with a slight frown on her face.

“The oven?”

“Aye, has a fit every time it’s lit.”

Maisie could not help but laugh at that. “Daes it indeed?”

“Most temperamental. We have been eager to get the chimney cleaned above it to see if this would make any difference, but, as it stands, it belches out great wafts of smoke all over my girls, and the cook is at her wit's end.”

Maisie was still chuckling, but she felt a wave of relief. She had witnessed many conversations from her housekeeper with her father in just this vein.

“Would ye be so kind as to draw up a list of costs, Mrs. Murray? I shall prioritize it above me other duties as I can see it is an urgent matter. Ye and I can discuss the budget later and when we can get it resolved.”

Mrs. Murray beamed at her. “I have already costed it up, m’lady, I shall bring it for ye. I thank ye.”

Maisie smiled. If nothing else, she was pleased she was not entirely alone in the house—she was lucky to have someone like Mrs. Murray to keep her on the straight and narrow.

Overseeing the inner workings of a castle was very different to a townhouse in Larkhill. The staff alone was made up of almost fifty people, and she wondered whether she would ever learn all of their names.

That afternoon, following a particularly complicated discussion with the cook about the kitchen staff, Maisie decided to clear her head and went into the gardens.

She had always loved tending their smaller garden in their townhouse in Larkhill. She was keen to understand the myriad passageways and hedgerows she could see from her room.

There was a hedge maze at waist height, which she enjoyed wandering about in for a diverting half-hour.

“Good morning, m’lady!”

Maisie looked up to see Marcus and Bram Wallace approaching her. Marcus’s expression seemed a little more cordial than it had been at the wedding feast, and Bram was all smiles as they came up to her.

Maisie hurriedly made her way out of the hedge maze and curtsied as they bowed to her.

“‘Tis good to see ye, Marcus, Bram,” she greeted with a nod.

“I trust all is well,” Marcus said. A quite different smile flickered over his face, and Maisie did all she could to keep her expression blank.

“Quite.”

“There was some commotion this morning, I hear,” Marcus hinted, and Bram glanced at him warily.

“Commotion?” Maisie asked, wondering if the news of her argument with James had already become the subject of gossip.

“Mmm,” Marcus said, “at the MacCarthy’s farm. I am told the laird had to leave shortly after the wedding breakfast to see to it.”

Maisie felt her cheeks pink as Bram and Marcus stared at her. Bram’s expression seemed to indicate polite interest, but there was an edge to Marcus that she was growing to dislike immensely.

“Indeed, he left sometime in the early hours,” Maisie said vaguely, keeping her voice as neutral as possible.

“Ah,” Marcus said, looking over Maisie’s head rather rudely, “there is Lillian.” He waved, and Maisie stiffened as she turned to see Lillian walking toward them.

She looked impossibly elegant. To Maisie’s eyes, she appeared more like the lady of the house than she did herself. Lillian wore a dark red gown that accentuated her skin beautifully and her hair was tied back in a beautiful arrangement. Maisie’s own hair was simply not long enough to attempt such a construction.

“Good morning, Uncle, Mr. Wallace,” Lillian said politely, curtsying to them both and then glancing at Maisie. “Lady MacLennan,” she said with a half-smile, “I am so pleased to see you.”

“Ye are lookin’ very fine this morning, Lillian, have ye seen yer aunt?” Marcus asked.

“I was on me way to meet her this very moment. We are goin’ down to the town later, and she has promised to buy me a new gown to raise my spirits—” Lillian stopped speaking, and a pretty flush stained her cheeks.

Her aunt is taking her shopping to raise her spirits after James rejected her. Maisie thought irritably. And even when the woman is embarrassed she looks beautiful.

Maisie could well imagine that Lillian would be upset by James’s choice of bride. Her slip at mentioning it was a mere footnote in an already strange day.

But what Maisie couldn’t fathom was Lillian’s change in behavior... Where she had been all relaxed serenity, she suddenly was trembling and embarrassed—she almost looked afraid.

Does she think I would resent her for what she said? Maisie wondered.

She glanced at Marcus, who seemed oblivious to his nieces’ distress. Bram Wallace, on the other hand, seemed irritated—perhaps he didn’t like her speaking that way in front of Maisie.

“I am sorry, me lady,” Lillian said quickly. “I shouldnae say such things. I am most happy with the laird’s choice, of course!”

Maisie opened her mouth to say that she took no offense when Bram gave a bark of laughter.

“Come along, Miss Lillian, I need to speak with your aunt and I shall escort ye back to the castle before ye say anythin’ else foolish.”

Lillian’s eyes were wide and glassy now—Maisie wanted to insist that she had no problem with her staying, but she was tongue-tied as Bram took Lillian’s arm.

“Me lady, will I find the laird inside?” Bram asked.

“Y—yes, I believe so,” Maisie replied automatically, and Bram bowed to her, walking back toward the castle with Lillian.

“All is well then, I trust?” Marcus asked, and now they were alone, there was something in the depths of his gaze that felt more calculating than before.

“Quite well.”

“It can be a heavy burden, taking on an estate such as this. Laird MacLennan is a paragon of this community; anyone who stands by his side must be molded in his image.”

Maisie gave him a tight smile. “Indeed.”

Maisie observed Marcus’s knowing expression and the haughty way in which his eyes traveled down her body and back again. She was growing tired of feeling out of place.

“I am looking forward to it,” she stated evenly. “If ye will excuse me, Mr. Guthrie, I shall go and see to me duties as lady of this house.”

As she walked away she saw his chest plump up with indignation at her tone, but she was tired of men looking down their noses at her as though she did not belong here.

James chose me, and however he might treat me now, I have as much right to be here as Lillian Guthrie ever did.