to keep her close, and safe.
Cassandra had had to steel herself for this meeting. James had made his fell purposes crystal clear. And now, standing on the threshold of the drawing room, she knew that all eyes were upon her. She took a deep breath and stepped forward, trying not to look at either of the gentlemen, James’s intended quarry.
‘Good afternoon, Mrs Anstruther,’ she said politely, dropping a curtsy to the beautiful but frail lady sitting in one of the wing chairs by the unseasonable roaring fire. James had been right about the colonel’s wife. Much had changed since their last meeting. She was now clearly marked for death. She had an ethereal, translucent quality about her. Half-angel already?
‘Come in, child, do. You must not allow yourself to become chilled.’ Mrs Anstruther’s body might be failing, but her mind seemed perfectly alert. ‘There is a sharp breeze coming off the river today. Indeed, it feels more like autumn than high summer. Come and sit by me so that we may enjoy this fine fire together.’ She smiled up at her husband, standing with his back to the hearth. ‘The gentlemen shall make way for the needs of a recovering invalid.’
Colonel Anstruther bowed slightly and removed himself a little from the fire. To Ross’s mind, the room was uncomfortably hot, but that was only to be expected; Ross had learned that the colonel permitted nothing and no one to divert him from anything that might ease Mrs Anstruther’s sufferings. Theirs was real love between a man and a woman. The kind of love that any right-thinking man would envy, even though few of them would ever attain it.
Pushing that unwelcome thought to the back of his mind, Ross stepped forward to greet Miss Elliott, as a gentleman should. How would she react to him, now that she appeared in her proper guise? Did she know how to behave as a lady? With such a brother, she had had a pretty dismal example to follow. Ross bowed politely and offered her his arm. ‘May I help you to a seat by the fire, Miss Elliott?’
She curtsied a second time. It was an elegant move. She had clearly been well taught, in that matter at least, for she had given Ross just the degree of respect required by their positions in society. He was an officer and a gentleman; she was a gentleman’s sister. Nominally, at least.
The two women had been talking amiably for some time when the tea tray was brought in. The need to curtail the visit seemed to have been forgotten. Mrs Anstruther smiled across to where her husband stood by the window, carrying on a rather strained conversation with Elliott and Ross. ‘Will you take a dish of tea with us, Mr Elliott? Or do you, like my husband, object to maudling your insides with such a beverage?’
Elliott strolled across to the fire and replied politely that he would be delighted to drink tea with his hostess. Too politely, Ross decided. The man was definitely trying to make a good impression on Mrs Anstruther, probably in order to curry favour with the colonel. But why? What was Elliott after? What could the colonel possibly have that Elliott needed?
Miss Elliott rose from her chair to help hand round the cups, first to her brother and then to the colonel. She moved with the grace of a gazelle. And she had beautiful white hands, almost as delicate and translucent as the fine porcelain she carried. ‘Cream and sugar, Captain Graham?’ For the first time, she smiled directly at him. He realised, with something of a surprise, that her dark eyes were not brown, but blue, the rich blue of a summer twilight sky. So very unlike her brother’s shifty brown eyes. But then, they had not had the same mother. That would account for the differences between them. Ross was suddenly glad of it. He found he could not stomach the thought that Miss Elliott was in any way like her blackguard of a brother.
‘Captain Graham?’
‘I beg your pardon, Miss Elliott. No sugar, thank you.’
She nodded and brought his cup to him. ‘It is unusual for a man to drink tea without sugar.’
‘We did have tea in the Peninsula, ma’am, and sugar. But they were not always easy to come by. One learns to adapt.’
‘I am surprised to learn that officers in the army were drinking tea,’ she said, on the thread of a laugh. Her eyes were dancing. They were really very beautiful eyes.
‘We were not all lost to the ways of polite society, ma’am. One or two of the officers were accompanied by their wives, so we single men did not become complete barbarians.’ He willingly returned her smile. Her brother might be scheming, but Miss Elliott seemed to be everything a lady should be. How was it possible that she had been fleeing for the Solway, dressed only in a sodden shift? Ross determined to solve the mystery surrounding her. It was clear that she needed protection from her brother. But why?
‘I find I have a picture of you in my mind, sitting on the ground around a camp fire, weapons in one hand and a bowl of tea in the other. Absurd, is it not?’
He laughed and was delighted that she did, too. She had very even white teeth and a wide, kissable mouth. Lord, where had that thought come from? For a moment he was stunned by his own reaction.
‘I can see that I must not pursue that avenue of conversation any further, Captain Graham, lest you find yourself confiding what else the single officers were doing. Tell me, what brings you north? Your accent suggests that you are originally from Scotland, but I was wondering why you chose to visit Dumfries rather than, say, Edinburgh. Does your family come from here?’
‘I am not exactly sure.’ He cursed silently. What on earth had possessed him to let that slip? Miss Elliott’s surprise was clear and absolutely predictable. Everyone disdained a man without a family. Now he would have to explain something of his Scottish origins—not that he knew much—and to try to parry the inevitable questions.
She did not display the vulgar curiosity he had expected, however, saying merely, ‘How…er…unusual. Do you plan to make a long stay in this part of the country?’
Ross was becoming more and more impressed. This was a true lady. She had seen his dawning embarrassment and had skilfully helped him through it. What had happened to the hoyden? Was this really the same woman? It seemed impossible. Yet it was true.
He must do his best to respond in kind.
‘I find it strangely beautiful, I must admit. As I have no pressing reasons to return to London, I fancy I may spend some time in these parts, exploring the area. There are some fine houses to visit, I believe?’
‘Yes, indeed. Many. And even finer gardens. The climate here is most clement, particularly towards the west. Some of the local gentry have created beautiful gardens and are bringing in all sorts of new plants from distant parts. I find myself envying them greatly.’ She smiled up at him. ‘Yes, I know it is a sin, but I cannot help myself. Whenever I visit such a garden, I cannot help but covet the glories I see there.’
‘Then you have much in common with Mrs Anstruther. Oh, not the sins, I am sure,’ he added hastily, ‘but the love of plants and gardens. The colonel and his wife are creating a new garden at their manor near Castle Douglas, I believe.’
‘The colonel’s property is rather more than a manor, sir,’ she replied with a twinkle. ‘It is an ancient castle, built as a bulwark against the invading English. As you travel around you will see that there are many such, mostly in ruins. The colonel’s family spent many years restoring it, I believe. Most other families preferred to build anew. A modern house can be more comfortable, I suppose, though it lacks the magic of the old places.’
‘Ah, do I detect a lover of gothic romances?’
She blushed. Delightfully.
‘Forgive me, ma’am,’ he said quickly. ‘That was impertinent of me. Tell me, if you will, what places of interest I should visit while I am staying in Dumfries.’
She named several, ending with Sweetheart Abbey. ‘It was built by the Lady Devorguilla in memory of her beloved husband. His heart is buried there. It is a strange, haunting place, but very beautiful. You will find it an easy journey, in the day, though better on horseback than by carriage. Are you travelling alone?’
‘For the present, yes. Though my man, Fraser, will