Once Upon a Tartan

He gave her a funny look. “Am I really a good person? I thought you said I was mean.”

She shrugged. “That was just words, because I was in a taking.”

He was quiet, gazing out over all the people and coaches bustling around the yard. “I suspect I use a lot of words, because I am in a taking too.”

Grown-ups were not always very bright. Fee smiled at him encouragingly, because he was trying. Uncle Tye guddled fish and climbed trees and loved to ride his horse really fast, but he also tried to be grown-up all the time.

Which must be hard.

Fee had a cheerful thought. “Do you remember that you beat me at the matching game?”

“I was showing off, which was stupid of me.”

How somebody could be stupid and win was a puzzle for another day. “You won a favor from me.”

“Fiona Flynn, I cannot ask you to manipulate your aunt into accompanying us to Northumbria, when the woman has made it plain she never wants to set eyes on me again.”

“Then don’t ask me.” Fiona Flynn. She was a MacGregor of clan MacGregor, but Fiona Flynn sounded like the name of a brave Scottish girl who could befriend lions.

Uncle said nothing, which was likely more thickheadedness. When the coach pulled into the yard and the ladies got out, Fee hopped off the bench and darted directly to Aunt Hester’s side. Grown-ups could be exceedingly silly, just as Fee’s mama had often told her.

* * *

Hester caught sight of Spathfoy sitting by himself on a bench, looking somehow alone amid all the noise and activity of the yard. She should be glad he was going. Glad he was making it easy to write him off as another deceptive, self-absorbed, useless man with no ability to govern his urges.

Except that would not wash.

She had no ability to govern her urges, at least where he was concerned, and that would have been a sufficiently daunting realization in itself. It was made worse by the sneaking sense Spathfoy had honestly sought to improve his niece’s circumstances by taking her south, and his father—may the marquess develop a permanent bilious stomach—had somehow cornered his son into kidnapping Fee.

“Aunt!” Fiona barreled into Hester’s side. The child had been a bundle of energy all morning, and the ride on her uncle’s horse had only made her more excited.

“Calm down, Fiona. The train isn’t leaving for half an hour at least.”

And for that entire half hour, Hester wanted to hug the girl tight and tell her how much she was loved, and how badly she’d be missed by her Scottish relations—which would hardly make Fiona’s departure any easier.

“Aunt, I’ve changed my mind.”

Fiona was swinging Hester’s hand as Spathfoy led his horse away to be loaded on the train. Rowan seemed to comprehend what lay before him at the same time Fiona had made her announcement, because the horse planted his front feet and showed every intention of rearing up on his hind legs.

“Fiona, you have to go. We’ve discussed this. It might be a long visit, but it won’t be forever.”

Hester watched as Spathfoy spoke sharply to a porter who’d produced a stout driving whip. The earl turned to his horse and began to scratch the beast’s withers.

“Aunt!” Fiona jerked on Hester’s hand in the most irritating fashion. “I’m not going, and you can’t make me.”

The dratted child had all but bellowed this announcement to the entire train yard. Hester had the mean thought that perhaps Spathfoy could come guddle his niece’s nerves the way he was soothing his horse.

“Child, what is this racket?” Aunt Ree came bobbing through the crowd. “My ears will not recover from such an assault.”

“The nursemaid Uncle hired to travel on with us from Aberdeen has fallen ill,” Fiona said. “I’m not going with just Uncle.”

Aunt Ree shot Hester a frown. “Child, you adore your uncle.”

Fiona’s expression turned mulish, making her look very much like her uncle Ian in a stubborn mood. “Uncle is a man.”

Through all the other emotions roiling through Hester—anger, sadness, confusion, and not a little self- castigation—she heard what her niece wasn’t saying.

“He has sisters, Fee. You tell him you have to use the necessary, and he’ll find a nice lady to assist you.”

Fiona dropped Hester’s hand and crossed her arms over her middle. “Nice ladies are strangers. I’m not going to the necessary with a stranger. And what if I get sick on the train and have to change my dress? Lots of people get sick on trains. Uncle won’t even think to have a spare dress or pinny with him.”

Aunt Ree looked thoughtful. “The child has a point.”

“Perhaps Spathfoy will delay his departure.” Even as she said it, Hester knew Spathfoy was not going to do that. His arrangements were made; the marquess was probably tapping his booted foot on the platform at Newcastle that very minute.

“Rowan is scared.” Fiona made this observation very softly, and for a moment, Hester, Lady Ariadne, and Fiona all turned to watch as Spathfoy swung onto his horse bareback. The animal was dancing about, raising and lowering his head while he put one hoof on the ramp into the livestock car, then backed away.

This scenario continued until the horse was brave enough to put both front hoofs on the ramp and then stand for a moment, quivering, head down, while Spathfoy sat serenely on the beast’s back. The earl might have been taking tea for all the calm in his posture.

“Uncle is telling him not to be afraid. He’s a very brave horse, really. He’s just young.” Fiona herself sounded young, and Hester was reminded of what it had been like to come north by herself just weeks earlier. Her mother hadn’t spared her even a lady’s maid, meaning Hester had earned looks that varied from pitying to curious to contemptuous.

Fiona had known so much upheaval in the past year…

Rowan put all four feet on the ramp, then seemed to realize what he was committing to, and gave a little rear and spin. His rider waited a moment then aimed the horse back at the ramp.

Watching the earl’s patience with his horse, Hester came to a realization: Spathfoy was not a bad man. He had erred in not announcing his purpose before becoming a guest in their home; nonetheless, his decision in that regard meant Fiona was not being carried off by a stranger, but rather by a man she had some liking and trust for.

Understanding the man’s failings was not the same as forgiving them.

Fee grabbed Hester’s hand again. “Rowan’s going to go up the ramp soon. Uncle’s wearing him down. Pretty soon he’ll feel silly about making such a fuss, and he’ll go right up.” Fiona sounded so hopeful, as if the horse’s troubles were her own. “Won’t you come with us, Aunt? You don’t have to stay very long, just until Uncle Con comes to visit with Aunt Julia. You’d like to see them too, wouldn’t you?”

“I would.” The words were out without Hester meaning to speak them aloud.

Aunt Ree thumped her cane. “Well, that’s settled then, and here’s Ian with Augusta to see you off.”

Hester turned a frown on Aunt Ree for jumping to conclusions just as Fiona started squealing and clapping her hands, and the horse—the horse Spathfoy was so patient with—scooted up the ramp into the rail car, forcing the earl to lean right down against the animal’s mane lest he suffer an injury to his head.

“I will not stay long with you, Fiona.” Hester tried to sound very stern, but the idea of seeing the child safely south was creating an odd lightness where all those roiling sentiments had been. If nothing else, making the journey would allow Hester to give Quinworth a piece of her mind. “I have nothing packed, and I doubt you’ll want me to linger while you’re learning to ride your pony.”

“Two ponies, and you can watch while Uncle teaches me!” As unhappy as she’d been a moment earlier, Fiona was in transports of delight now. “We’ll picnic on the train, and we’ll play cards, and Uncle can read to us. We shall have a great adventure.”

Ian joined them on the platform, Augusta on his arm. “What has my niece kiting about like a spring lamb in clover?”