He dropped his hand onto Bertie’s head again and was rewarded by having his hand bathed by the big dog’s wet tongue.
“Oh, don’t worry, my boy,” the laird said airily. “It is an open secret. Every laird here agrees with me, eh, John?” He turned to one of the other men, who was talking and laughing with a group of his friends.
The other man was much younger, but he was in perfect agreement with Laird Masterson. “Aye, a right couple of eejits,” he concurred, before turning back to the others.
Bernard bowed to Laird Masterton again, who smiled at him before looking him up and down. “You must be the lad my daughter was talking about,” he remarked, smiling again. “All the ladies are speaking about you in tones of great admiration.”
Bernard felt himself flushing with embarrassment. “Thank you, M’Laird,” he muttered, turning away to pat the dog again. He listened to what the gathering of men was saying while pretending to fuss over the animal, which welcomed all his attention eagerly.
“I don’t care which one of them wins.” Laird Cochrane’s deep voice could be heard clearly over the rest of the noise around them. “They are both as stupid as the day they were born. I would be ashamed to call them my sons.”
There was a chorus of agreement before Laird Colquhoun said thoughtfully: “They have one asset—their sister, Janice. What a pity she is a girl. She would make a fine laird.”
“Indeed she would,” Laird Watson concurred. “She already has the village on her side, and her servants all love her.”
“Aye,” Laird Donaldson echoed, his voice regretful. “Remember that terrible harvest we had two years ago? She had stored grain in the barns from the years before so that the people did not starve, just like Moses in the Bible.” He smiled and raised his glass in a toast to her, along with all the other men. “She was only eighteen then. Her father helped her, of course, but she is the power behind the throne, without a doubt, and he will not be around for much longer. The poor man is being eaten alive with consumption.”
“True. What a pity,” Laird Watson said sadly. “He is a very good man and will be missed, and I dread to think what a state this place will be in next year.” He took a sip of his whisky, shuddering. “It is not fair. She will likely be married off to a man who is not worthy of her and be expected to do nothing but breed for the clan, and that will be such a waste of a good mind.”
The men murmured in agreement, and then the conversation drifted onto other topics. Bernard slipped away and caught up with William, who had strolled over to a group of young ladies, to whom Bernard bowed politely.
“Ah, this is my friend, Bernard Taggart.” William smiled and stood aside, holding out his arm to usher Bernard into the group.
At once a pretty, young, blonde woman stepped forward and offered him her hand, which he bowed over since he was not permitted, as a member of the lower classes, to kiss.
“Aileen Montgomery,” she said, gazing at him admiringly. “Why did we not see you at dinner last night, sir?”
“Because I am not one of you, mistress,” he answered.
The young lady looked puzzled. “One of us?” she asked. “What do you mean?”
“I am not of the nobility,” he answered. “I am merely a guard.”
“Oh, what a pity.” Her smile lost some of its sparkle suddenly, and he had the impression of a shutter going down between them. He felt nothing; he hated snobbery, as did William.
“Come, Bernard,” William took his friend by the arm and led him away, glaring at the ladies. “If my friend is not welcome in their company then neither am I.”
Bernard shrugged, then laughed. “Will, I simply do not care what they think of me. As long as you and Laird Ballantine are my friends, I need no one else. Let them admire me or men of their own class—I will not lose sleep over it.”
“Do you not want to marry someday?” William asked.
“And I have told you at least a hundred times before,” he answered, unconcerned. “Perhaps if I find the right woman, but I will not go searching for her. If I don’t find anyone, I think I will buy a dog. They love you whether you are a guard or a laird or a laborer.”
William laughed loudly at that. “It is my duty, and I am a dutiful son, and I have found the right woman. It is just a question of making my father see sense.”
“Why have you not married Janice?” Bernard asked teasingly. “She is a very beautiful woman.”
William looked at his friend in horror. “She would wipe her feet on me!” he cried. “She may have the body of a woman, but she has the mind of a man. No, there is a nice, biddable young lady waiting for me who adores me and will give me plenty of children, preferably sons. Janice would never have been my choice.”
“You make her sound like a monster,” Bernard observed. “But many of the lairds think it is a pity she is not a man. They are of the opinion that she would make a better laird than either of her brothers. But, of course, that is only the opinion of everyone I have spoken to so far.”
William frowned. “Aye, well, she might be a good leader, and although she will never be in charge, she might influence whoever is. She might even be the acting laird—not officially, of course—but those brothers of hers are not too bright and will be easily influenced. We must make sure they listen to us, not her. There does not seem to be any love lost between them, which is good news for us.”
They walked in silence for a while until they came to the main entrance of the castle, then strode over onto the flat land around it.
“I think the best solution would be to see that she is married and settled somewhere else.” Bernard’s voice was thoughtful.
“You take her on, then!” William chuckled as he looked sideways at his friend. “But God help you!”