Once Upon a Highland Autumn Read Online Free

where the girls’ nurse was hiding. He pictured the poor woman jabbering incoherently under a stairwell somewhere, overwhelmed by her charges, reduced to a shivering wreck.
    “Perhaps their nurse should take them upstairs—” he began diplomatically.
    “We’re between nurses,” Arabella interrupted. “My maid has taken charge of them for the time being, but she is unpacking my trunks at present.”
    She seemed completely oblivious to the fact that her children were now climbing out the window and escaping into the garden, where there were bees and thorny roses, and a deep pond full of curmudgeonly eels.
    He crossed and rang the bell himself. “I shall summon one of the maids,” he said.
    “As you will, Kit. It is your home, after all,” Arabella said, and Kit swallowed a moment of deep sympathy for his sister’s husband.
    Swift cautiously opened the door and carried in the tea tray once again, his shirt perfect, his hair combed, and the girls squealed. The gracious servant’s eye twitched.
    Kit made a silent vow. He would not marry until he had no choice in the matter, and an heir was required. When the time came, he’d select a meek and quiet female, and as a wedding present, he would purchase a sixth property, and house her there, and think of her only when absolutely necessary—and how often could that possibly be?
    He beckoned to the butler. “Swift, have my trunks brought down from the attic, and ask my valet to meet me upstairs at once,” he whispered.
    He left the next morning for Turnstone Abbey.

 
C HAPTER T HREE
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    Dundrummie Castle, July 1817
    M egan bit back an oath as yet another pin pricked her skin through the seamstress’s muslin. She sent the woman a sharp look and got down from the stool she was perched on. “It’s too hot for this!” she said. How she’d love to be swimming in the loch at Glenlorne now.
    “You must be prepared, Megan,” her mother told her, sitting placidly in her chair, watching the proceedings. Her own gown was perfect, pink and ruffled and cut in the first stare of French fashion. “You have a great deal to learn before we go to London next spring, and you’ll need dozens of gowns.”
    “Dozens?” Sorcha gasped, and Megan tried to imagine just how long it might take to be fitted for so many garments.
    “Morning gowns, tea gowns, walking dresses, evening gowns, pelisses, bonnets, nightgowns—” the seamstress recited, mumbling over the pins from her mouth.
    “First impressions can never be made a second time,” her mother said.
    Megan sighed and stood still. She’d promised to spend an hour in the village, visiting the local folk, taking note of their tales, adding them to her growing collection. Not that her mother would understand or approve, of course. Megan told her she was visiting the sick and elderly, taking baskets of food to those in need. That was admirable—English, even—in her mother’s opinion, while collecting clan stories was a pointless pursuit.
    “Stand up straight, Margaret,” her mother commanded, using the English name that was just one of the changes she had insisted upon in preparation for going to England. Sorcha and Alanna—Sarah and Alice—looked at her sympathetically, as they waited miserably for their turn for torture by muslin and pins. At least Alanna, just a year younger than Megan, would be right by her older sister’s side come spring, at the same English balls and parties.
    “I know you’ve only just arrived, but we must begin as we mean to proceed,” Devorguilla insisted. “There will be a strict schedule. In the mornings, you will meet with the seamstress for fittings. You will, of course, be fitted for a full wardrobe when you get to London, but for now a dozen or so new gowns for each of you will do.” She pursed her lips. “I daresay Miss Carruthers, your new companion, and the lady’s maid she’s brought with her, will ensure your hair is properly dressed, and remains that way from now