Chapter Four
Mairi’s shoulders andneck hurt bad enough to give her a pounding headache. It was the result of keeping her head held rigid all damned day while a book kept sliding off her ridiculous haircut. Did English women really do this? No wonder they were so often in foul moods. Today’s experience was enough to make Mairi sour on the whole world.
Thankfully the day was done. The sun was down, dinner consumed, and the countess had retreated to her bedroom to “soothe her frazzled spirit.” Mairi wanted a spirit of a different sort. Some good Scot’s whisky would do her good, but there was none of that here, and she had no idea if the lady would approve of drinking or not. So instead, Mairi lay on her bed with her arm over her eyes and hoped that the pounding would end.
It didn’t. In fact, it was echoed by a knock on her door. Mairi was still deciding if she would pretend she’d died when the door opened and the countess swept in.
“Oh, don’t be such a pout. Sit up. We could both use some of this, I think.”
Mairi let her arm drop to see the lady holding out a glass of a dark liquid. Her nose twitched and her brows rose. “What is that?”
“French brandy. It’s not often that I open a new bottle, but I’m celebrating today. Not one, but two ladies to bring out.” She smiled as she handed over a glass. “When Lilah married, I thought I’d never have a companion again. But now I’ve got two new ladies to bring out. Two!” she said gleefully as she sipped from her glass. “You can split the duties between you, but for now, I’m afraid it will all fall upon you. But never mind that now. I’ve got something else to discuss with you.”
Mairi straightened up on the bed. “Duties? What duties?”
“The running of a household, of course. You’ve got to learn that before any man will marry you.”
“I’ve been running a castle for nearly ten years. I think I can manage an Englishman’s household.”
“We’ll have to see about that, won’t we? We’ll have an evening soiree before the Season opens. A small affair of twelve. I’ve selected the date and you’ll discuss the meal plans with Cook tomorrow morning before your fitting. If you’re organized, it shall be a breeze.”
Mairi was organized, but dinner for a dozen in an English house likely meant all sorts of customs to be learned. Though she’d routinely fed several dozen, she’d done it at a castle where the meat came out on platters, the bread was often thrown at the guests, and the drink was managed (or mismanaged) by the laird.
“Don’t frown at me. I’ll teach you everything you need to know. That’s why you’re paying me.” Her expression sobered as she waved at Mairi. “Drink up! Drink up! We’ve got to discuss something delicate and it’s easier to do such things with drink.” She shrugged. “I never had to have these discussions before Lilah married. She handled the unpleasantness. But I’ve had to learn with all my daughters gone and my son finally starting his nursery.”
Her expression took up a tragic air as if having four children married well was a terrible burden. It wasn’t, but Mairi had quickly learned that the countess had her own way of looking at things.
“Drink!”
Mairi jolted at the sudden command and rapidly took a big gulp. It was too much, too fast and she choked on it. But she was used to whisky, so she recovered quickly enough. And then she set the mostly full glass beside the bed.
“What did you want to discuss, my lady?”
The woman frowned at Mairi’s nearly full glass. “I have launched three daughters to brilliant matches. Gwen was a disaster, of course, but I finally showed her the way. Diana was angry at me, but she’s blissfully happy now. And Lilah, well you know the problem there. My husband’s by-blow, married to an earl!”
From what Mairi had heard, none of those matches were thanks to the countess, but she knew better than to argue.
“My girls and I had our problems. Gwen wouldn’t listen to a word I said about anything, but there was one thing that kept us going. One thing that allowed for brilliant matches. Do you know what that was?”
“No, my lady. What?”
“They never lied to me. Not once. They said awful things to me, things that I didn’t like. But I’d rather that than a lie. I can’t help you if you’re dishonest.”
Mairi swallowed. The countess’s expression was firm, but there was sympathy in her eyes. And Mairi felt her lies come up and choke her.
“I’m going to ask you some questions, Mairi, and mind that I will know if you lie. I’m not as stupid as some might think. Swear you will answer honestly. Swear on your mother’s soul.”
Oh my. The woman was laying it on thick, but it was working. She would not lie on her dead mother’s soul. She couldn’t.
“First question, are you a virgin?”
Mairi jolted. “What?”
“Something has happened between you and the duke. Something that—”
“He’s not a duke yet!” Mairi snapped.
“But have you already given yourself to him?”