Page 16 of The Indigo Heiress
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Born and educated in this country, I glory in the name of Briton.
King George III
At Forrest Bend, Leith felt a bit out of his depth in the midst of such civility. Here there was no coarse talk or jesting. No swearing or drunkenness. Nary a misspoken word nor a foot put wrong. Everything was done in moderation with a sort of refined yet unpretentious dignity. Other than the Ravenal daughters paying him too much attention, he couldn’t find any fault with these particular Virginians. When he was with them, he nearly forgot his other life. There was only the colorful present with all its Americanisms and novelties.
Today was ninepins. These Americans improved upon it, playing outside on a bowling green. Despite the competition, he emerged the winner after several rounds, enduring a great deal of backslapping and handshaking. Far preferable to billiards and a fistfight in a smoky tavern. Syllabub—Virginians’ version of the victor’s drink—was served, but what he craved was a drink of spring water in Royal Vale’s garden at midnight.
The Catesbys were present, all but one, and cheered him on. When he finished the game he asked why Juliet was missing.
Loveday smiled, though the worried look in her eyes remained. “My sister is indisposed and sends her regrets.”
Indisposed? She hadn’t seemed sickly at Royal Vale. Nor was she fragile in spirit, given their forthright exchange at the Raleigh and then the ball. The tick of time was against him. He’d soon leave to visit Buchanan stores and settle business matters in various towns, a schedule hardly conducive to courting.
Only he wasn’t courting.
“Are you missing Scotland, Mr. Buchanan?” Loveday was looking at him again as if still forming an impression. She had an engaging manner just shy of coy. “Or are our colonial diversions sufficient for the time being?”
He paused. He hardly missed Ardraigh Hall as he was seldom there. His heirs sprang to mind with the usual nick of guilt. Missing someone or something meant some sort of established bond, of which they had none other than that he’d sired them. Young as they were, Bella and Cole weren’t giving him a single thought. Yet that odd longing he’d experienced since their birth washed through him again. To be a father. To have the tender tie he’d not had with his own father. And then, quick as it came, the desire vanished.
“Missing Scotland, nae, especially not on a blithe November day,” he finally replied. “You colonials are sufficiently diverting, aye.”
She flashed that easy smile of hers again, making him wonder if Juliet was dimpled and he’d overlooked it. “I’ve never been to your storied country, though my sister and I were schooled in England and learned your history there.”
“You have nae trouble understanding my broad Scots?” he said, his Glaswegian dialect deepening with its rolling r ’s and odd lilts. Americans sounded a bit flat in comparison, though colonial accents varied.
“I’m too used to Scotsmen here, particularly in your James River stores.”
Was she hazarding a dig at the oft contentious relations between planters and the firm? His suspicions arose, though she showed no such guile. “The Catesbys are always welcome in Glasgow.”
Her pleasantness turned probing but was nonetheless charming. “You have a great many business interests in the city, I understand.”
“In the city and outside of it.”
“Father mentioned a townhouse and a country house.”
He gave a curt nod, looking toward the lawn. Another game of ninepins was beginning, but for now, he was content to talk. “Ardraigh Hall is a few miles southeast of Glasgow, but my townhouse is on Virginia Street.”
Her brows arched. “You jest!”
“It seems fitting. This colony forms the foundation of the Buchanan firm. What about your own family history here? Virginia is not auld, so it should be brief.”
She smiled and took a sip of syllabub, her gaze on her father as he took a turn at the game. “Best ask my sister that. She has a passion for the past and our humble Jamestown beginnings. Perhaps she’ll even show you a portrait or two. They’re nothing like your British long galleries, but we do try to honor those Catesbys who came before.”
“Mayhap I should have done the same before leaving Scotland, though I find it as hard to sit still as my children.”
“Children?” She looked shocked.
“Twins.” He enjoyed righting her obvious misperceptions. “Bonny bairns, so tapsalteerie they’re kept in the country.”
“Does this mean there’s a Mrs. Buchanan?”
So, she had a wee bit of her sister’s forthrightness. Somehow it blunted the burn of his predicament. “There was once.”
“My sincerest sympathies, sir.” She turned mournful, only brightening when Widow Payne came toward them.
“I don’t mean to interrupt,” the middle-aged matron said with a smile. “But Mrs. Ravenal wishes to show Loveday and I her late-blooming roses.”
Leith returned to the game, his thoughts anchored to the ailing Juliet.