Mena glared a warning at him, hoping it would work better than a plea. What in the devil did he think he was doing? Did he not understand that her position depended on the appearance of virtue and respectability?
“It wasna of little consequence to me.” He slanted her his own look full of meaning. “I very much enjoyed escorting her home. Yer governess is as witty and entertaining as she is lovely.”
“Ye should hear her read,” Andrew agreed. “She entertains us all the time.”
The child was an absolute angel.
“Aye, and she’s taught me to waltz,” Rhianna added, not to be outdone.
“Everyone here at Ravencroft agrees that Miss Lockhart is an excellent and bonny addition to the staff.” Russell joined the conversation, his beard splitting into a ruddy smile. “It’s good for us Highland heathens to see what real manners are like, eh, Laird?”
Mena gathered the fortitude to look at her employer and instantly wished she hadn’t. Ravencroft sat stock-still, a knife in one hand and his fork in another, a bite frozen halfway to his mouth. He glared at his brother, black eyes glittering with malevolence.
“You are all too kind,” Mena said in a breathless rush.
“Ye must tell me when ye are planning to take another swim in the sea, Miss Lockhart,” the earl said with no small amount of insinuation.
Ravencroft’s utensils clattered to his plate.
“Yes, and ye must take us with ye!” Rhianna insisted with palpable eagerness. “Ye can teach me how to swim.”
Mena also had to set down her fork lest everyone see how her hands trembled. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so distressed by a simple dinner since her days at Benchley Court. “The weather will be much too cold for swimming for some time.” Calling upon her so-called refinement, she turned to a universally accepted topic for salvation. “Russell, is the climate in this part of Scotland always so unpredictable in the autumn?”
“I’m afraid so,” Russell answered slowly, seeming as relieved for the change of topic as she was. He studied the mottled red beginning to journey up from beneath Ravencroft’s collar with russet brows drawn low before turning to address her. “It’ll frost before long, but I hope the rain shadow of the Isle of Skye clears things up around Samhain as it’s like to do.”
“Samhain?” Mena asked.
“My favorite festival of the entire year.” Rhianna said, sighing.
“Aye,” Andrew agreed, his features the most animated Mena had ever seen them. “When the spirits of the dead rise to cause mischief and we call the Druid spells to keep the demons away.”
“Likely known to ye as All Hallows’ Eve,” Lord Thorne supplied helpfully.
“There’s a festival, you say?” Mena queried.
“It marks the end of the harvest, distillery work, and sowing of the winter crop,” Russell explained. “We open an old cask of whisky or two for all the Mackenzie of Wester Ross and a few visiting clans and their lairds, and have a feast and ritual.”
“There’s dancing and games!” Rhianna almost knocked over her glass in exaltation.
“And we sacrifice animals over bonfires,” Andrew chimed in.
“More of a roast and feast, than an actual sacrifice,” Russell corrected with a smirk.
Mena smiled for what seemed like the first time that evening. “Sounds delightful. I am so looking forward to my first Samhain in the Highlands.”
“Ye’ll have to save a dance for me, English,” Thorne said around a bite, offering her that cheeky smile of his. “Perhaps I’ll teach ye a thing or two.”
Ravencroft planted his fists on the table with enough force to rattle the china, causing everyone to jump. His chair made a sharp, grating sound as he stood and advanced around the table toward Thorne.
“A word,” he gritted out as he grabbed his younger brother by the shoulder and all but hauled him out of his seat.
Thorne’s smile barely faltered as he partly walked and was partly dragged toward the door by a furious Ravencroft. “Excuse us for a moment,” he called jovially as they disappeared into the shadows of the hall.
Mena blinked profusely in sheer astonishment before Russell rushed to comfort her. “Doona worry, lass. The earl is always trying to get under the laird’s skin. Been that way since they were lads.”
“Oh?” Mena smoothed her hands over her waist and sat straighter in her chair. She found the entire exchange quite vexing. In fact, she didn’t know if she’d ever feel steady again. Not until she put this to rest with both the Laird Mackenzie and Lord Thorne.
“Miss Lockhart.” Andrew put his hand over hers. “I’d like to be excused. I doona feel well.” He gestured with his eyes to his room.
Rune would need to be let out before bed, and now was a perfect time. “All right, Andrew. I’ll accompany you.”
She said good night to Rhianna with a kiss on the cheek, and then excused herself from Russell’s company.
“You must tell him,” she fervently reminded Andrew once again as they found themselves alone in the hall. “Or I’m going to have to.”
“I will, I promise, but I think it’s best to wait until the morning.” Andrew gallantly offered his arm at the base of the back stairs and escorted her up. “Miss Lockhart, do ye know why my father would be so angry with Uncle Gavin over what he said?”