The housekeeper’s slim face registered surprise. She tucked a tendril of dark hair beneath her mobcap. “Oh, miss, there’s no need to thank me. It’s my job.”
Caroline spent the remainder of the day making out menus and reassigning guest rooms for their arrivals the following week. They may have left Charleston years ago, but their ties to that city remained intact. Business associates and friends visited throughout the year, so much so that her home sometimes felt like a hotel. The news that Isaiah Marsh and his son, Theo, had been added to the guest list wasn’t exactly welcome. Isaiah was boisterous and tended to make crude jokes. Theo wasn’t anything like him. The thirty-year-old heir to a fortune was suave, handsome and smart as a whip. A definite catch. It was the calculating aspect of his personality that gave Caroline pause. He was one of a carousel of suitable bachelors her mother had attempted to pair her with. In Louise’s opinion, any single man between the ages of twenty and forty with the right pedigree and desired amount in their bank account was suitable husband material. Thankfully, Theo was as uninterested in wedding her as she was him.
Marriage didn’t strike her as an institution she wanted any part of. As far back as she could remember, her parents’ strained relationship had been marked with indifference on her father’s part and nagging reprimands on her mother’s. They didn’t esteem each other. There’d been few displays of affection. She hadn’t realized there was anything amiss until her adolescent years, when she’d noticed her friends’ parents’ behavior differed from her own. The situation had only worsened with the move to Tennessee, but her mother’s complaints to Albert had fallen on deaf ears. So she’d determined to become the social queen of Gatlinburg, and Caroline was expected to play her part as reigning princess.
Her nerves were frayed by the time dinner rolled around. Her father had extended an invitation to the banker and his wife, Claude and Merilee Jenkins, as well as the reverend and his wife. As they gathered around the sumptuously laid table, the silver candleholders polished to a high shine and candlelight reflected in the mirrors on the walls, Caroline prayed that Claude wouldn’t mention her frequent visits to the bank.
She had gone to the kitchen to ensure the soup was ready to serve when Duncan McKenna slipped inside the rear hallway. She stopped short to avoid a collision with the Goliath. He put out a hand to steady her. The feel of his rough skin against hers evoked a strange fluttering sensation in her middle.
Caroline jerked out of his grip. “You picked a bad time to speak with my father. He’s entertaining guests.”
The scent of Ivory soap clung to him. The waning sunlight entering the hallway set his hair and beard aflame. The effect of it all, combined with those startlingly blue eyes, made him more striking than any other man she’d encountered, even with the beard.
He didn’t make his apologies and exit as expected. He remained exactly where he was, his potent gaze sweeping her person before lifting once more to her face, giving her the impression he saw much more than was on the surface.
“I’m not sure I agree with your mathair.”
“Excuse me?”
“The color of your dress,” he stated. “I liked the one you had on this morning better. The dark blue matched your eyes and brought a bloom to your cheeks.”
Other men had paid her compliments. Theirs hadn’t filled her with a giddy contentment and longing to hear more.
It’s the accent, she told herself.
“You’re being familiar again, Mr. McKenna. We are about to have dinner. You’ll have to come back in the morning. After breakfast.”
His nostrils flared. Hands on his hips, he bent closer, his sculpted mouth filling her vision. “Tell me something, Caroline. What is it about me that offends you so? Is it because I, a lowly working man, dared to ask you for a dance?”
Her father’s voice dispelled the tart response forming on her lips.
“Ah, there you are, Duncan. There are some people I’d like you to meet.”
Caroline shifted out of the Scotsman’s way.
He smoothed his beard. “I don’t wish to intrude, sir.”
“Nonsense.” Albert made a dismissive motion. “Caroline, put another setting at the table.”
Squashing her objection, she dipped her head. “Yes, Father.”
Before Duncan made to move past her, he looked at her, lips trembling with amusement. Her skin flushed hot. And to think, mere moments ago, she’d been drawn in by what she’d assumed was sincere admiration. This stranger had a habit of laughing at her expense. As the men disappeared into the dining room, she wondered if complaining to her father would do any good. Duncan McKenna was proving to be troublesome in more ways than she’d first anticipated.
Duncan slid the succulent beef into his mouth and savored the mushroom gravy it was coated in. He hadn’t enjoyed a spread like this since before he’d set out on his own. The dining room was a sumptuous, understated display of elegance in hues of silver and blue. Dark, heavy furniture contrasted with papered ivory walls. Suspended above the table, the chandelier sparkled with a hundred crystals. Candles that were interspersed among serving platters shimmered off the silver-rimmed china. If not for his upbringing, he’d have been intimidated by his host’s obvious wealth and social connections.
Albert sat at the head of the table. Louise helmed the opposite end.
“How long have you been in the country?” Reverend Monroe, a serious man who wore compassion like a second skin, asked from the far end beside Louise.
“Ten years. My grandparents came five years before that and, once settled in Boston, encouraged my father to join them. I was sixteen when we left Scotland. I havnae been home since.”
“Scotland or Boston?” Louise chose to belatedly acknowledge his presence with a sardonic question.
“Scotland is the jewel of my heart. I will always consider it my home.” His gaze was drawn to the woman seated opposite. Caroline poured a thin stream of cream into her teacup. He had yet to catch her eye. That she resented his presence was obvious. “As for Boston, I havnae visited that city since I left, either.”
While he yearned to roam the rolling green hills of his native land once more, his feelings about the bustling city where his soul had nearly succumbed to darkness were more complicated.
Claude Jenkins sat on Duncan’s left. “What made you decide to travel?” he asked.
His wife leaned forward to address Duncan across Claude’s barrel chest. “You’re plenty old enough to settle down. Aren’t you interested in finding a wife? Starting a family?”
“I was engaged once,” he admitted. “It didn’t work out.”
Over the lip of her china cup, Caroline’s navy-hued gaze swerved to his. Her curiosity was plain. Was she wondering what type of woman would agree to marry him?
Mrs. Munroe made pitying noises. The reverend wore an expression of confidence. “‘Delight thyself also in the Lord, and He shall give thee the desires of thine heart.’ Keep praying. God will lead you to the right woman in His time.”
Before Duncan could respond, Caroline lowered her cup and spoke. “You didn’t answer the other question. Why did you leave Boston? What would possess a person to leave their friends and family behind?”
He got the impression her aim wasn’t to provoke him but to glean an honest answer. Surely the lady wasn’t thinking of leaving her privileged life?
“America is a land of abundance,” he said. “Varying landscapes. Fascinating people. I yearned to explore more of it.”
He