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As Emily raised her face to farewell Diarmid and Fiona, the window behind her cast stark gray light over her face. She was still beautiful. How could she be otherwise? But it was a beauty refined by sorrow. Hamish had suspected she wasn’t eating much. Now he was sure of it. Her pale, perfect skin stretched tight across her delicate bones, and her great hazel eyes were dull.

He desperately wanted to make everything right for her. Just how desperately he wanted it surprised him, although he’d never wished her ill fortune, however much he might itch to give her a good shaking now and then.

But that was the old Emily, the smart-tongued, quarrelsome adversary who gave as good as she got. One rough word to this frail, exquisite creature sitting across the room would shatter her to dust.

By God, he loathed feeling so helpless.

***

Hamish was relieved when the reception drew to a close, although he saw that Emily had found comfort in the tributes that Britain’s greatest scientific minds paid to her father. The last to leave the house was his mother. She looked magnificent in black silk. But then she looked magnificent in anything.

"Hamish, such a sad event to follow so close on your wedding."

Which for Emily had been a sad event, too. "I wish I could help Emily, Mamma. She looks so broken. Her father was her whole world."

His mother sent him a sharp glance, and he shifted in discomfort as he realized he came close to betraying the truth behind his marriage. "You need to help her through this."

Irritation with himself more than his mother had him answering with a touch of heat. "Of course I’ll help her. What sort of heartless brute do you take me for?"

His mother was used to his mercurial temperament, and her voice stayed calm. "That’s not what I meant."

He sucked in a breath and spoke in a more measured tone. "I’m sorry. It’s been a difficult few days for everyone."

It had been a difficult few weeks. He and Emily had been wed less than a fortnight. Since then, Hamish felt like he’d lived through a lifetime.

"I’m trying in my ham-fisted way to say you’ll need to use patience and care with Emily. And while you’re kind enough, patience has never been easy."

His lips flattened. His mother did mean to chide him after all. "I’m not ten years old anymore."

"No, but you’re still inclined to let your emotions rule you, especially when it comes to people you love."

He bit back a protest at her use of the word love. He and Emily didn’t love each other. Right now, he’d lay good money she couldn’t stand him, given her pained expression whenever she set eyes on him.

"It’s not altogether a criticism," his mother said, when he didn’t give an immediate response. "You’re incapable of dissembling, and that’s an attractive quality. But grief is a strange world to live in. Often people don’t act the way they would in happier times. I’m asking you to be understanding and forgiving, and willing to take the long view. Emily isn’t herself at present."

"That’s true. She usually crackles with energy. She’s like a ghost in the house."

"Under the pall of sorrow, she’s still the woman you married."

"I wish I knew how to reach her."

"You’ll find a way. Just let her set the limits for now."

He shot his mother a questioning look. "You really like her."

She looked startled. "Of course I do."

"I thought with the way the wedding came about…"

"I must admit I dreaded meeting a scheming hussy who had your fortune and your title in her sights. You’re not the first young man caught in a sly girl’s machinations."

"I told you the scandal was entirely my fault."

"Which I put down to natural gallantry. But the moment I met Emily, I saw she was perfect. Society misses bore you silly – not their fault, they’re educated to be nothing but pretty little dolls. Emily has such substance, and she doesn’t let you get away with being king of the beasts either."

Hamish struggled to hide his astonishment. As his mother said, he wasn’t good at concealing his emotions. One emotion however he didn’t have to conceal. "I’m so glad you welcome her into the family. I’ve only recently realized how alone she is in the world. You’ve been very kind to her since Sir John passed away."

His mother tilted her hea


Tags: Anna Campbell The Lairds Most Likely Historical