‘Don’t be ridiculous. I cannot believe that,’ Kestrel said immediately. He listened patiently as Sage told him the whole, sorry situation.
‘Please don’t tell anyone,’ she finished. ‘My brother could lose everything.’
‘I won’t, but I think you underestimate my cousin, Sage. He’s made of sterner stuff than you give him credit for.’ He shook his head. ‘When Rafe was about fourteen, he and his family came to stay at Castle Dunbarton one Christmas. He and my father were very close. I rather think Papa wished that Rafe had been his heir, not me. I was never very good at hunting, shooting or fishing. I tried so hard to be a good Little Lord and learn the ropes, though. I endlessly swotted up on how to run the estate but my father, God rest his soul, was likewise not a natural overlord and in the end, there was nothing left to inherit after the horrendously debilitating death duties we had to pay when he died. I digress – forgive me. Rafe is a true-born alpha male. I mean, he managed to complete the Macnab Junior Challenge when he was nine years old, for heaven’s sake!’ Kestrel looked at Sage for a reaction, expecting her to be impressed.
‘I don’t know what that means,’ she confessed.
‘Well, it’s nothing short of extraordinary. I find myself offon another tangent, however. So, Rafe was with us for Christmas, and it was bitter that year, with three feet of snow piled up everywhere. Anyway, he realized that my father had been feeling a bit low, so he bicycled down to the village on Christmas Eve to get him a Crunchie bar, Papa’s absolute favourite. He cycled three miles in the snow, on a treacherous road down the hill and then all the way back up again, just to procure a chocolate bar for my father.’
Sage looked back at him searchingly, struggling to keep pace with his scatter-gun thoughts.
‘My point is that if Rafe loves someone, he will move heaven and earth just to make them happy. Don’t give up on him, Sage – he won’t give up on you, I’m certain of it. He would never have sent you to me if he didn’t love you or wasn’t certain that you loved him in return.’
Sage thought for a while. Through the window, the melancholic loch mirrored the dank, grey sky. The rain was still hammering down, making the surface of the water rough and fragmented.
‘I couldn’t bear it if he ever considered me a burden … that Hal and I were an inconvenience to his already stressful life.’
‘Sage, you also do yourself an injustice – a big one.’ Kestrel was earnest, full of sincerity, and he went on animatedly. ‘Hemingway wrote that “courage is grace under pressure” and you have certainly proved yourself both courageous and graceful in the short time I have known you. You are also intelligent, not to mention beautiful. I very much doubt that you could be an encumbrance to anyone, and Hal is quite simply a bonus. He’s the brightest, easiest, most well-mannered child I have ever met. I think you arebothmarvellous, and coming from me, though I say it myself, being worthy of that compliment is no mean feat. Iloathepeople!’
Sage couldn’t help herself – a laugh burst out of her.
‘Get some rest,’ Kestrel finished gently. ‘Bloody Mary is apparently staying the night, so we will have to endure her company this evening, I’m afraid. Battle lines will inevitably be drawn at dinner but never fear, Mrs M and I are your back-up battalion.’
Sage slumped down on the bed. ‘Maybe I could have a tray with Hal up here this evening?’ she asked hopefully. ‘My brother is racing at Musselburgh tomorrow. He’s going to give me a lift back down south. I hate to be a nuisance, but do you think you could possibly give us a lift back to Inverness in the morning, please? We could take the train from there.’
‘I would drive you all the way to Newmarket if you asked, my dear. A cowardly tray though? No such luck, I won’t enable that. I’ve come to expect more from you!’ Kestrel stood up slowly. ‘I will see you at dinner. Eight o’clock sharp. Mrs M says to send Hal down to her when you’re ready – she has some toys and games she wants to show him. Oh, and if you decide not to leave tomorrow after all, you are most welcome to stay longer.’ With another encouraging smile, he was gone.
Sage lay back on the bed, looking up at the faded drapes. She could feel Hal breathing peacefully beside her. Could she dare to hope that Rafe still wanted her? Was she selfish enough to want him to? What would it mean for Casper? The questions ricocheted about in her muddled brain.
After a while, Hal stirred and by the time Sage took him down to the kitchen, it was already half past five. Mrs M had cooked a chicken pie for him; it stood warm, golden and inviting on the stove.
‘There you both are. Cup of tea, Sage?’ Mrs M gave Sage an encouraging nod and raised her eyebrows questioningly.
‘I’d love something stronger, please,’ Sage said timidly, wanting to take the edge off her reeling thoughts and the waves of misery and loneliness that had been persistently nipping ather since speaking to Rafe. Mrs M winked conspiratorially and produced a bottle of Scotch from the sideboard. She poured a generous measure into a glass and handed it to Sage.
‘Tough day?’
‘Yup.’ Sage took a big gulp. ‘Where’s Mary?’
‘She’s gone up for a bath … stamping her spiky little feet about not having the master bedroom.’ Mrs M raised her eyes to heaven.
‘Great, another thing she can use against me,’ Sage said morosely.
‘I’m sorry that I told her about you being friendly with our Rafe. I didn’t think about what I was saying until it was too late.’ Mrs M looked shamefaced.
‘Please don’t worry – none of this is your fault, Mrs M.’ Sage drank again. The alcohol was already going to her head and she could feel its heat burning in her stomach. She knocked back the rest of the glass and held it out to Mrs M beseechingly.
‘All right, have another. I can see you’re in no danger of becoming a drunkard. This one will send you pie-eyed.’ Mrs M laughed kindly, and poured Sage another Scotch. ‘Now,’ she went on, ‘tell me how Rafe is. We haven’t seen him for a while. That boy is a special one – you’re a lucky girl.’
Sage took another hefty slug of her drink. She felt as though something inside her had broken, and she was struggling to make sense of it all. She did not want to talk about Rafe though.
‘He is, very special. Tell me about you – how did you become a nanny, anyway? You don’t seem like the quintessential Norland graduate,’ Sage said, changing the subject, although her words haphazardly tumbled out of their own accord. Mrs M laughed.
‘My father was the gamekeeper up at Dunbarton Castle – my mother had died when I was a child. I used to skulk about in the stables a lot and Kestrel’s father, the late eighth Duke of Stirling, must have taken pity on me. I’d be helping the grooms and hewould see me most mornings. The Duke was always kind, not like the Duchess.’ She sniffed, and then looked mortified for saying it aloud. Rushing on, she said, ‘Anyway, he began to pay me for my help – I’d tack up, and feed the chickens and collect the eggs as a child. Then, when I was a little older, I worked in the kitchens until he offered me a place as an assistant nursery maid just after Lord Kestrel was born and I leapt at the chance. I was lucky that the Little Lord took to me at once, and I never looked back. Well, not often,’ she added in an undertone. ‘When Lady Mary arrived, she certainly made me doubt myself a few times with her vicious ways and nasty tricks, but I didn’t often regret my decision. Funny how two children from the same family could turn out so very differently …’
Sage was listening, fascinated, while watching Hal pottering about trying to entice Hotchi-Witchi out of the warming oven onto his gauntlet glove, and she looked back at Mrs M who smiled at her kindly.
‘I must get on, though. Leave Hal with me and you go and put your feet up. It’ll be time to get ready for dinner soon enough.’ She stood up from the table and chivvied Sage out of the kitchen. As she headed back out towards the stairs, Sage heard Mrs M saying softly to Hal, ‘I put a few more eggs on to boil earlier – shall we go and visit Tarka again?’