Highlander Undone Read Free Page B

difference could a few weeks more or less mean?”
    “I can see that I am outnumbered. Besides, I can hardly dictate Addie’s life to her.”
    Not that you haven’t already taken a damned good shot at it, thought Jack.
    “You will do whatever you wish to. It is in your artistic nature not to be tied by the bonds of a common code. We will discuss it no further,” Lady Merritt pronounced dramatically. “Now then, I have arranged to take tea in the portrait gallery.
    “Ted, you may take Gerald up to Gate Hall and browse the gallery. Addie and I will be along directly. I’ve added a new Whistler to my collection and”—chairs squeaked and heels clicked across the terrace in unseemly haste.
    “You can release my hand now, Lady Merritt,” Jack heard Addie say, her tone gently amused. “I promise I won’t bolt. Why did you send those two scuttling away?”
    Lady Merritt mumbled something.
    “Please.” Addie’s voice warmed with honest affection. “We have known each other far too long for you to ever be ‘too familiar.’ My family’s land has marched along Gate Hall property for over a hundred years.”
    “I am not really worried about how society might view your attenuated mourning, m’dear.”
    “I didn’t think you were.”
    “I just hate to see you immerse yourself so thoroughly in your brother’s circle.”
    Addie must have raised a questioning brow, or given some other indication of surprise, for Lady Merritt hastened on. “Not that they aren’t all perfectly charming, delightful people. You know I have always been an ardent patron of the arts. Indeed, in encouraging my son Evan’s friendships with young artists, I have . . .” Lady Merritt’s voice dropped to something resembling a growl, “. . . weathered considerable marital discord.”
    “So you have confided in me,” Addie said shyly. “That is why I am finding it so surprising that you would object to Ted’s friends.”
    “Only on your behalf, dear.”
    “My behalf?”
    “It’s different for you, Addie. Evan is a boy. He plans to pursue a future in aesthetic endeavors . . . if his father ever returns from America with him.” The flint returned to her voice. “But you are still a young woman with a future to consider.
    “You should think of remarrying and I doubt whether you will find a likely candidate amongst the fribbles, would-bes, and panderers that dog the careers of truly inspired artists like your brother.”
    “I like fribbles.” She was trying for valiant humor and failing.
    “Oh, Addie.” Lady Merritt sighed, misreading her intention. “How can one believe that, after having known your dear, departed husband? It is hard to imagine a more masculine, dynamic being than Lieutenant Charles Hoodless.”
    Long minutes passed and Addie didn’t reply. Jack imagined her, head bowed, lost in a past she would not share, unable to respond to the woman’s monumental misconception of her husband, her marriage.
    “I should think you might like to reestablish ties with your husband’s old friends,” Lady Merritt finally said in a soft voice. “These artists? Very nice, very gentle. But such a drastic contrast to Charles! I fear you seek their company because you have decided never to wed again. And you know that if you never leave the artistic community you will never have to risk your heart again.”
    “You are very perceptive,” Addie said in a closed, strained voice.
    “You must be brave, Addie. You must carry on. You are still young. There is much of life ahead of you and I would hate to think of you living it alone.”
    Addie did not respond.
    “Perhaps amongst Charles’s fellow officers you might find a sympathetic suitor, someone as virile and forceful and handsome as your Charles.”
    “Please . . .” Addie’s voice was no more than a whisper, raw with emotion.
    “I know, m’dear. I know. But he died a hero’s death. And now, in honor of his memory, you must go on.” Lady Merritt clucked