The Lass Wore Black by Karen Ranney Page B

just heard a jest and repeated it to herself so as to not forget it.
    “Where has she gone?” she asked the three.
    Artis shrugged and looked away. “I didn’t ask.”
    In London, the maids were a great deal more respectful. But there, she’d been the sister-in-law of an earl. Here, she was an oddity, a hermit, a strange woman dressed in black.
    Nor had she attempted to befriend the servants. She didn’t speak to them, and they remained silent as well. At this moment, however, with all of them looking at her, she wished she’d done more to curry favor.
    Rather than ask about the footman or grab something to eat, she turned and walked away.
    The night was freezing, sleet icing the street. She decided not to walk, but to retire early, wishing she could command herself to sleep. Where were the footman and Aunt Dina?
    The woman was devoted to helping others, but for the past six months she’d done nothing but attend to her. No, Dina had been that way from the beginning.
    When she arrived in Edinburgh a year ago, it was with certain expectations. She’d thought Morgan’s aunt would be a stuffy woman who disliked the duty foisted upon her. Dina would teach her what she needed to know to take a place in society but nothing more.
    Instead, she’d gotten a warm and loving woman in Dina MacTavish, someone who had become her second mother. They’d spent hours talking and laughing together. Dina had shared anecdotes with her as she taught her the finer graces. She’d sailed into society feeling a confidence that had its roots in Dina’s praise.
    In London, in the early days after the accident, she’d existed in a haze of pain and fear. Dina had been there as well, sitting at her bedside, holding her hand, talking or reading to her, and keeping her calm.
    Where was she now?
    Had the older woman gone to dinner with friends? Or to one of those lectures she was always attending? If so, it was strange that she hadn’t mentioned it. But then, she hadn’t been open to conversation with anyone lately, had she?
    Well, it was a good sign that Aunt Dina didn’t worry as much about her and was pursuing her own life.
    Catriona bit back her envy.
    Where was the footman? Perhaps Dina had fired him, and he would never again bother her.
    It wasn’t disappointment she felt, she told herself, but relief.

 
    Chapter 9

    “W hat do you mean, you haven’t fired him?” Catriona asked. “He’s surly, insulting, and rude. Is he another one of your good causes? Is that why you’ve employed him?”
    Dina was still dressed in her wrapper, her hair braided for the night.
    Catriona, however, hadn’t been able to sleep well, appearing at Dina’s door barely past dawn. Not acceptable behavior, most assuredly, but she had been pushed beyond her limits.
    “Oh dear,” Dina said. “Is he all that, truly?”
    Catriona sat on the end of the bed, hands twisting the swatch of her veil.
    “He’s the rudest servant I’ve ever known,” she said. “He goes out of his way to bedevil me. He insists on calling me ‘Princess’ in that insulting way of his, and looks as though he’s laughing at me.”
    Dina didn’t turn to look at her. Instead, she sat at her vanity and began to undo her braids. There wasn’t a touch of gray in her dark brown hair. Her face was unlined, if plump, but the whole of her body was like that. Dina reminded her of an overstuffed pillow, one that was comforting yet attractive.
    “I don’t know why I need him,” she said. “I’ve already eaten my breakfast. Why does he never appear at breakfast? Why do I not see him around the house?”
    “You never leave your room,” Dina said calmly.
    That was certainly true.
    “Then why does he never bring me my breakfast tray?”
    “I have him doing something else,” Dina said, standing.
    Before she knew it, she was being walked to the door of Aunt Dina’s sitting room.
    “Dismiss him. If you won’t dismiss him, then at least trust me to eat, Aunt.”
    “I did that,”