Page 44 of The Indigo Heiress

43

Hush ye, hush ye, dinna fret ye,

The black Tinkler winna get ye.

Scottish nursery rhyme

Leith let Juliet lead. The door opened on the white-haired nursemaid, Mrs. Davies, who had been expecting them. She bobbed her capped head in deference, then excused herself as he’d hoped. The unusually tidy nursery lay before them—just the four of them—and despite Juliet’s obvious skittishness, she stepped into it as if she was coming home. There was no other way to describe what left him feeling an outsider. A spectator. His twins had grown tall as milk thistle in his lengthy absence.

With admirable grace, Juliet sank down onto the carpet in the middle of the room, her skirts billowing about her. At once, Bella stopped her babbling and Cole dropped his wooden soldier as if to say, Who is this colorful creature?

Both children regarded her openly without a hint of shyness. Bella trundled straight toward her, stepping onto her cape, plump arms outstretched. Juliet opened her arms in turn, gathering her up and kissing her disheveled wisps of hair.

“Mam,” Bella said with a little sigh.

Mam. Leith turned to stone in the doorway. Havilah had long been buried. He thought his daughter would have forgotten the word if not her. Was it Juliet’s dark hair? Her same height?

Cole took a more cautious approach, picking up his soldier again and offering it to Juliet just beyond the hem of her petticoat.

“Thank you.” Juliet smiled and took the toy, beckoning for him to come closer.

He obliged and she gathered him up too, giving him a peck of a kiss on his forehead, both of them on her lap. Memories of his own mother gutted Leith in stark contrast. He’d never been in her arms. Didn’t recall any affection from her, just a severe, haughty indifference bordering on distaste that never altered.

Gruffly greeting the twins from a distance, he turned to bring in the toys left at the door, though the bairns were more interested in the lass before them. Changing course, he took a chair by the hearth, realizing his children hardly knew him while a complete stranger claimed their undivided attention. His throat grew so tight he couldn’t swallow. In Juliet they had found what had been lost ... and what he himself could not give.

“Mam,” Bella said again, stroking Juliet’s curls with a clumsy hand. Cole, on his stomach now, was absorbed with a tiny fox embroidered on her cape, tracing it with his finger as if to feel its fur.

Juliet was talking to them now in such low, musical tones he couldn’t make out the words. The knot in his throat nearly choked him. Ravenal hadn’t been wrong.

She is equaled by few and excelled by none.

Her headache and homesickness fled. Juliet sat with her back to the fire, the children in her arms, their linen and soap scent a balm to her heart. There was something so near the divine in little ones. An unsullied freshness and purity. Cole gave her a wet kiss on her ear and proceeded to examine a pearl earring she wore, while Bella turned her attention to an embroidered ladybug. Juliet was very aware of Leith behind her in a chair near the fire and could only guess his thoughts. This seemed a good beginning, but how would it all end?

“Bonny,” Bella said, playing with her other earring.

Juliet endured her tickling ears as she took in all their little details. They were rosy and stout, even double chinned, and had their father’s vivid ice-blue eyes. Dressed alike in linen frocks that fell to their ankles, they were bare of foot, their dimpled feet white as milk. The Buchanan imprint was strong, and she succumbed to a steady fascination as she stared at them, trying to pinpoint where else their father lurked.

Cole looked at her, then over her shoulder at Leith. “Da.”

’Twas the twins’ name for him, Mrs. Baillie had told her. Her heart gave a little leap.

“Would you like to see your new playthings?” she asked. They were now looking at the pile of presents Leith had just brought in. “Can you bring your father—Da—your new hobby horse?”

They hurried over to the toys. But when Juliet looked back at Leith, he had gone.

Upon Juliet and Leith’s leaving at visit’s end, the twins commenced such a howling as to bring the house down, summoning every servant to the nursery. The benefit was that he and Juliet were quite alone in Ardraigh Hall’s foyer to discuss the matter.

“Surely you have an extra coach in the stables to bring their nurse and what’s needed to Virginia Street.” She was looking at him so sweetly, so beseechingly, his resistance began to crumble. “ Please. ”

“Meaning the twins will travel with us.” That noisy possibility was enough to have him walking back to Glasgow.

“Of course, ’tis best.”

“I say they bide here a while longer.”

Her hand rested on his sleeve. “They’ve endured enough separations and losses.”

He held fast. “You ken I keep them here for their health and safety.”

“Wise to consider, but I know of no contagion at present in the city.”

“There’s always something vile going round.”

“’Twill only be for a short time. After Loveday’s debut I’ll return here with them.”

He avoided her gaze. Sweetly beseeching, aye. And undeniably stubborn. Ravenal hadn’t mentioned that. “You’ll have your hands full caring for them even with a nurse.”

“So be it.” She smiled, starting up the stairs. “You’re rarely at home, so any fuss shan’t bother you.”

In another hour they were off, two coaches lumbering over the road to Glasgow with its ruts and pockets of snow. Nurse and baggage followed in the second coach, where she was likely stealing a second nap. Leith held Bella, while across from him Cole sat enthroned upon Juliet’s lap. Both bairns were asleep, worn out from their howling at the house.

“I’m sorry you weren’t able to walk in the gardens and enjoy the park,” he told Juliet as Bella shifted in his arms, her head on his shoulder. “There’s an orangery you might like in particular.”

“Something to look forward to,” she replied, looking triumphant. “I’ve heard spring in Scotland is altogether different than Virginia.”

Did she miss America? He wouldn’t ask if she was homesick because it would add to the burden that he’d somehow tricked or coerced her into marrying him against her will. Lately that sat as heavy as a bad case of indigestion.

“Spring at Royal Vale is a wondrous season.” She seemed wistful, though her smile offset it. “The blooming redbud and dogwood are so exquisite, words fail.”

He tried to think of something equally bonny about a Scots spring other than the infernal damp but came up empty.

She opened the curtain and looked out upon a landscape he could only describe as bleak, one arm about Cole. On the seat beside him lay the hobby horse.

Leith voiced what he’d been thinking ever since he’d first seen the toy. “In a few months they’ll be able to ride a Shetland pony on a lead rein.”

She turned back to him. “I’ve never heard of such. Are they a small breed?”

“Aye, from the Shetland Islands. No more than eleven hands high. Small but strong, intelligent, and docile. My grandfather saw to it that I had three before I was twelve.”

“Oh? What were their names?”

“Mungo, Burra, and Bressay.”

“Let me guess.” She looked at him intently. “Scottish names, all.”

“Aye.”

She turned pensive. “I know little about your childhood.”

“I survived it.”

She gave a little laugh. “As did I, obviously. I pray Bella and Cole do the same.”

He looked down at Bella, now drooling on his frock coat, before returning his gaze to Juliet. “Are you content to have nae children of your own?”

Her rosy expression told him the question was too bold. But it didn’t slow her response. “Rather, are you content that I not?”

He didn’t answer. How could he without vexing them both further? He reached for the window and opened it. The rush of winter’s air did him good. But it didn’t settle the question, nor did it temper his suddenly perplexed mood.

They rode in silence the rest of the way to Glasgow.