The Scottish Companion Read Online Free Page A

of his lips curve up in a smile. “No, Mother, I’m not in love. I’ve yet to meet the girl.”
    “Then why?”
    “Because it would be wiser if I married as soon as possible,” he said.
    They exchanged a long look, and he wondered what was in his eyes. Some knowledge, something that she saw and recognized, some emotion that made her nod and look down.
    Perhaps his marriage to Dr. Fenton’s daughter would leave his family open to gossip, but no more so than his sudden appearance on the Edinburgh marriage mart. He could imagine that speculation.
    “She will be arriving soon. If you cannot welcome her, Mother, then I can accept that. But do not make her miserable. I would think that you would train her, instead. Mold her into what you think she should be.”
    Her dark eyes were filled with an emotion he didn’t want to decipher. Without another word, she turned and left the room.
    He stared after her, wondering if he should have shared his suspicions.
    Someone had wanted his brothers dead. But who? And did their murderous intent extend to him? Who was next in line to inherit the title? An obscure second cousin who’d immigrated to America. He hadn’t heard of the family for years, wasn’t even certain the man was alive. But his solicitors would somehow manage to find him if anything happened to Grant.
    If anything happened to him. What a warming thought.
    His mother would be protected by the enormous Roberson wealth. But she would be forced to leave Rosemoor if an obscure relation inherited the title. The estate was entailed, so wrapped up in codicils and provisos that the most skillful of Edinburgh lawyers couldn’t disentangle it.
    His attention was caught by a movement outside. A carriage pulled slowly into the drive. He stood and walked to the window, watching as the vehicle stopped in front of the stone steps. One of the footmen opened the door. Dr. Fenton emerged, extending a hand inside the vehicle.
    A woman descended the steps. As he watched, the hood of her cloak fell, revealing her features. Her face was pale, a delicate rose tinting her cheeks. Her hairwas brown and arranged in a tight coronet at the back of her head.
    She stared off into the distance, and he wondered what had captured her attention. He stepped to the side and looked to where her attention was directed. A tree. She was looking at a tree, a small smile playing around her lips.
    What kind of woman was amused by a tree?
    As he watched, she was joined by another female. This one carried a book, and seemed uninterested in her surroundings. But she was even more beautiful than the first woman. An angel, with golden hair to match and a face that had him staring. She was perhaps the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She looked up from her book, and he wished for a set of binoculars so that he could determine the color of her eyes.
    Should he join them? Welcome them at the broad stone steps? Or should he remain in his study, the arrogant taskmaster with a reputation of disliking interruptions?
    One of these women was going to be his wife. Which one? They were both beautiful, a fact that annoyed him. He hadn’t expected Dr. Fenton’s daughter to be beautiful. Why hadn’t Fenton mentioned her appearance? Or perhaps the man had, and Grant had simply taken his posturing for the words of a proud father.
    A beautiful woman would be a detriment to the life he’d planned for himself. A woman of beauty expected a certain amount of attention, a certain obeisance. She wouldn’t be content with his routine, his involvement with his work.
    The blond woman glanced toward Rosemoor, her attention momentarily distracted from her book. Her face was solemn, her mouth unsmiling. He wondered what would amuse her, what would banish the look of caution from her features.
    Suddenly, the prospect of marrying a beautiful woman didn’t seem so abhorrent.
     
    A curving brick staircase in the shape of a horseshoe rose to the double doors, above which stood a crest