Free Bride by Stella Cameron Page A

least, was true.
    “Why?” Arran asked.
    The question stopped every spoon. Arran regarded Struan steadily. “What is this all about? A few weeks since I left you in charge of Kirkcaldy. I return to find the castle all but deserted and you living here in squalid conditions.”
    “Slightly unsuitable conditions,” Justine said archly. “Squalid is such a nasty word.”
    “Slightly unsuitable conditions,” Arran said dutifully.
    Despite his tension, Struan hid a smile. Justine could quell the strongest of men.
    “Answer my question,” Arran insisted.
    “I am not a child,” Struan told him. “I confess I have certain concerns that have led me to seek distance from the castle. I can handle my own problems, Arran.”
    “You aren't handling your—”
    “They are
my
problems.”
    “And you are
my
younger brother. And I am the head of this household. And you owe me your allegiance in matters concerning this family.”
    “You have my allegiance in all things. You do not have my permission to meddle in things that are my own affair.”
    An awful silence followed.
    Justine cleared her throat. “Ella, will you kindly ride to Mrs. Mercer's cottage. Ask her if she can find some women who would be glad to augment their incomes by helping me here at the lodge. I'll need them at once. As many as can come.”
    Struan bowed his head. This only became worse.
    “You, girl.” Justine indicated the serenely oblivious maid. “What is your name?”
    “Buttercup.” The large blue eyes that turned on Justine held a hint of insolence. “I'm to do the viscount's bidding.”
    Calum breathed out loudly and Struan set his jaw.
    “For the present you will do
my
bidding,” Justine informed the girl. “Kindly begin by making yourself useful in the children's bedchambers.”
    Buttercup's blue eyes rolled ever so slightly before she flounced from the kitchens.
    “And you, Max,” Justine continued. “Go to the castle. Ask first to speak to Mr. Potts. He is my coachman. Tell him I require my trunks brought here. Then speak with the butler and ask if some of the castle staff might be spared. They did not appear particularly overworked yesterday.”
    Calum half rose, ‘Justine, we are—”
    She cut him off. “Kindly leave at once, Max.”
    “Can I take the black?” the boy said, leaping up with enough force to rattle crockery and spill water from the flowers.
    “You may not,” Struan told him. “The little chestnut will do nicely.” What was he saying? He'd have the place overrun and lose his precious isolation.
    “Now,” Arran said when Max—and Ella in her shabby brown breeches and frock coat—had left. “We have much to settle and probably not much time to do so.”
    “Quite,” Calum agreed.
    “Do not press me further,” Struan said. “When I can explain myself—if that day ever comes—I shall do so. Until then I'll thank you to respect my privacy.”
    “They only ask because they care for you,” Justine said gently. “But I know they will follow your wishes.”
    Calum coughed discreetly. “Whatever Struan wants. Just know you can come to me at any time, old chap. Come along, Justine.”
    “I'm not going anywhere,” she told him. “Didn't you hear me ask Max to arrange for my trunks to be delivered?”
    “You cannot be serious.”
    “I am perfectly serious.”
    Arran reached to cover her hand on the table. “You are an answer to my prayers.”
    She gave him a charming smile. “Why, thank you, Arran. How ever can that be?”
    The corners of his eyes twitched slightly. “Naturally, this is all most unexpected, but it will be my pleasure—and Grace's—to welcome you into the family.”
    Struan made fists in his lap. “Arran, I think—”
    Justine interrupted him. “Oh, you fun me, Arran.” She tipped her head back and laughed.
    The men didn't join her mirth.
    She tapped Arran's wrist. “You know full well that I am long past an age where my reputation is an issue. And Struan's reputation is beyond