fallen in love with a bastard.
The door at the end of the library opened and Margaret entered followed by her pack of Wolfhounds.
Julie stretched and rubbed a hand over her eyes. “Hello.”
“My dear, you’re going to ruin your eyes.”
She didn’t bother arguing with the old wives tale. Margaret was set in her ways. “I’ve got to get through the papers unless you want me to live here forever.”
Margaret arched a brow as if giving genuine consideration to the thought.
“Don’t Margaret.”
“Don’t what?” Margaret said lightly.
“Think whatever it is your thinking.”
“I shall think what I like, dear girl.” Margaret crossed to the fire. “Now, I’ve invited your friends to stay. They don’t know it was me. I thought they’d be more receptive if they thought it your proposal. They’ll fly into Dublin tomorrow and you will meet them.”
Julie blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“You’ve been working too hard and you won’t leave the castle except for a brief visit to the chip shop.” She studied the flames as if they were terribly significant. “So, the only way I assume you’ll go out and see some of this beautiful country is if your friends are here.”
Julie sputtered. “How do you know I have friends?”
“Well, you seem a personable sort. I assumed—”
“No,” she broke in. “I mean how did you know who to invite.”
Margaret glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “O’Neil.”
O’Neil. Of course. Boy, she was really going to have to have words with that nosey chauffeur.
“Kat and Stella are arriving on the first flight to Shannon. O’Neil will pick them up. They’ll be here by ten am tomorrow. I’ve already ordered two rooms made up.”
Tears stung Julie’s eyes. “Margaret, why are you so nice to me?”
“To you? I am courteous to everyone.”
“Uh-huh.” Julie shoved herself up from the chair. Margaret might try to deny it, but the old woman had taken Julie under her wing. She knew it. And she was grateful. Margaret was tough and smart. And now, she was certain where Damian had gotten a good deal of his willful and powerful persona. Margaret had decided that Julie needed to get out, and so, she’d sent to the USA and flown her closest friends here to ensure she did indeed get out. It was something Damian would have done.
Julie strolled over to her and before Margaret could take a step back, she kissed the older woman’s papery cheek.
Margaret coughed. “Now. Now. Let’s have a drink.”
Julie smiled. “Ok.”
“Have you found any more nefarious relatives?”
“Well the fifth Earl of Clare did like to change sides during battles quite a lot.”
“Oh dear, yes.” Margaret poured out two stiff whiskeys into Waterford tumblers. “Was he the one hanged by the peasants?”
“No, that was the third Earl of Clare.”
“You can never trust a man.” Margaret gave a fond smile to her Wolfhounds who had curled up in a pack before the fire, all content, all basking in the warmth, snoozing away. “Dogs are so much better. Though men do have their uses.”
Margaret sat for a moment, shifted about on the deep velvet upholstery then was back up on her stout feet. “Shall we have a wander about the house?”
Nodding, Julie offered her hand to help Margaret stand but the older woman ignored it and wrestled herself up and was off at a brisk pace.
It was a miracle Margaret slept, she had so much trouble staying still. Julie assumed the older woman did sleep sometimes, but she couldn’t recall ever see her sit longer than it took to consume a medium rare steak, potatoes, and a glass of wine.
The dowager stopped at the door, gave the dogs a single look and ordered, “Stay.”
They whined a bit then settled back before the fire, clearly unwilling to challenge their mistress’ authority.
They headed off for the east wing of the castle, the wide hallways always a bit dark. Julie hated to admit that the unrelentingly gray late winter days were
The door at the end of the library opened and Margaret entered followed by her pack of Wolfhounds.
Julie stretched and rubbed a hand over her eyes. “Hello.”
“My dear, you’re going to ruin your eyes.”
She didn’t bother arguing with the old wives tale. Margaret was set in her ways. “I’ve got to get through the papers unless you want me to live here forever.”
Margaret arched a brow as if giving genuine consideration to the thought.
“Don’t Margaret.”
“Don’t what?” Margaret said lightly.
“Think whatever it is your thinking.”
“I shall think what I like, dear girl.” Margaret crossed to the fire. “Now, I’ve invited your friends to stay. They don’t know it was me. I thought they’d be more receptive if they thought it your proposal. They’ll fly into Dublin tomorrow and you will meet them.”
Julie blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“You’ve been working too hard and you won’t leave the castle except for a brief visit to the chip shop.” She studied the flames as if they were terribly significant. “So, the only way I assume you’ll go out and see some of this beautiful country is if your friends are here.”
Julie sputtered. “How do you know I have friends?”
“Well, you seem a personable sort. I assumed—”
“No,” she broke in. “I mean how did you know who to invite.”
Margaret glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “O’Neil.”
O’Neil. Of course. Boy, she was really going to have to have words with that nosey chauffeur.
“Kat and Stella are arriving on the first flight to Shannon. O’Neil will pick them up. They’ll be here by ten am tomorrow. I’ve already ordered two rooms made up.”
Tears stung Julie’s eyes. “Margaret, why are you so nice to me?”
“To you? I am courteous to everyone.”
“Uh-huh.” Julie shoved herself up from the chair. Margaret might try to deny it, but the old woman had taken Julie under her wing. She knew it. And she was grateful. Margaret was tough and smart. And now, she was certain where Damian had gotten a good deal of his willful and powerful persona. Margaret had decided that Julie needed to get out, and so, she’d sent to the USA and flown her closest friends here to ensure she did indeed get out. It was something Damian would have done.
Julie strolled over to her and before Margaret could take a step back, she kissed the older woman’s papery cheek.
Margaret coughed. “Now. Now. Let’s have a drink.”
Julie smiled. “Ok.”
“Have you found any more nefarious relatives?”
“Well the fifth Earl of Clare did like to change sides during battles quite a lot.”
“Oh dear, yes.” Margaret poured out two stiff whiskeys into Waterford tumblers. “Was he the one hanged by the peasants?”
“No, that was the third Earl of Clare.”
“You can never trust a man.” Margaret gave a fond smile to her Wolfhounds who had curled up in a pack before the fire, all content, all basking in the warmth, snoozing away. “Dogs are so much better. Though men do have their uses.”
Margaret sat for a moment, shifted about on the deep velvet upholstery then was back up on her stout feet. “Shall we have a wander about the house?”
Nodding, Julie offered her hand to help Margaret stand but the older woman ignored it and wrestled herself up and was off at a brisk pace.
It was a miracle Margaret slept, she had so much trouble staying still. Julie assumed the older woman did sleep sometimes, but she couldn’t recall ever see her sit longer than it took to consume a medium rare steak, potatoes, and a glass of wine.
The dowager stopped at the door, gave the dogs a single look and ordered, “Stay.”
They whined a bit then settled back before the fire, clearly unwilling to challenge their mistress’ authority.
They headed off for the east wing of the castle, the wide hallways always a bit dark. Julie hated to admit that the unrelentingly gray late winter days were
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