"Her shop isna on the way back frae the market," said Duncan. "What were ye up to?"
"Nothing!" protested Angus. "She's a bonny woman. I just wanted to get to know her a wee bit better, that's all. Mr Gough has just bought an ostrich for his menagerie, and it's said tae be a fearsome strange beastie. I asked her if she'd like to walk out on Saturday and see it wi' me. I was verra polite. And she nearly froze the balls … she was verra cool."
"You keep away from her," warned Duncan. "She's a respectable wee lassie. No' for the likes of you."
"Christ, I wasna trying tae ravish her!" said Angus hotly.
"Were ye no'?" said Alex. "That'll be a first, then."
"I had only the purest intentions," said Angus defensively. "Though if I'd known ye were sweet on her, Duncan, I wouldna have gone anywhere near her."
"I'm no' sweet on her," replied Duncan coldly.
"Ye go and see her often enough, and I've no' seen ye coming back frozen solid," countered Angus. "She likes you well enough, it seems."
"Do you? I didn't know you were seeing Sarah," said Beth in surprise.
"I'm no' ‘seeing her'," said Duncan. "I've called round a few times, that's all. She likes me because she kens I'm no' interested in seducing her. She doesna feel threatened by me."
"She's had some bad experiences with men," said Beth hesitantly, not wanting to reveal too much.
"Aye, I ken," replied Duncan, which surprised Beth even more. "You keep away from her, Angus. She's no' setting ye a challenge. She isna interested."
"Aye, I'm sure that's true. Dinna fash yourself, I'll no' come between you and your wee sweetheart," his brother teased. "Dinna forget tae wear one o' they sheepskin condom thingies, though, when ye … "
Duncan half rose from his chair.
"Prince Frederick's very different from the rest of the family, isn't he?" put in Beth hurriedly. "Why does the Elector hate him so much?"
"It's a family tradition," said Alex. "George's father hated him as well. I dinna ken, rightly. I'm no' sure George does, either. Frederick was left over in Germany when the rest of the family moved to England. He didna see his parents from when he was seven until he came over to join them fourteen years later. That wouldna help. But he was popular wi' the public, too. He's got a nice easy way wi' him."
Duncan sat down again. Angus, grinning, wisely went to sit on the other side of the room.
"Yes, I saw that," said Beth.
"Aye, well. His da should have given him some responsibilities. He is the heir to the throne, after all, until we get the Stuarts back. But he wouldna, because he didna like the fact that Frederick was more popular than him. So he treated him like dirt and made him into an enemy. I'll gie Frederick his due though, he willna have a word said against his father, even though he's been treated verra badly."
"I enjoyed the visit today. It was a lot better than visiting St. James's."
"Aye, it sounded like it," said Iain.
"I'm not so keen on some of his friends, though," Beth added, thinking of David, and Helen.
"Aye, well, Fred was something of a rake before he got married, and he still likes to drink and gamble at times. And to play jokes on people, as ye saw today. He attracts aristocratic dandies like David and Percy, and people who dinna like George."
"Why don't you see more of him?" asked Beth. "He seems more Sir Anthony's type than the Elector is."
"Because I dinna want to alienate myself from Geordie. I'm friendly wi' the Hanovers to collect information, that's all. Frederick isna privy to the latest developments. I like him, but that's no' important. I canna be seen to be a regular visitor there. But I canna refuse him all the time, either."
"And also it's harder to spy on people you like," said Beth.
"Aye, that too," admitted Alex. "We'll wait till we're personally invited before we go again. It's better that way."
Beth agreed. She had liked Prince Frederick and Lady Philippa. But if she never saw the others again, she would not be sorry. In general though, life was reasonably pleasant for Beth at the moment. She no longer had to visit St. James's and endure the attentions of Cumberland, Anne and Richard seemed really happy together, Maggie and Iain were slowly recovering from the loss of the baby, and Duncan seemed to have found a friend in Sarah. Things could not be better, unless the Stuarts were on the throne and the MacGregors back in Scotland, where they belonged. But there seemed to be no sign of that happening in the foreseeable future. In the meantime she was content with what she had.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
March 1745
Captain Cunningham and his wife of just over a month were whiling away a pleasant hour after dinner in their newly redecorated blue and cream salon. Blue was not what Anne would personally have chosen for the decor; she thought it a somewhat cold colour. But with the lamps lit and a roaring fire blazing in the hearth it looked cosy enough, and she would have agreed to Richard painting the room black if that was what he wanted.
She was taking great pleasure in indulging her new husband's every whim without a murmur. He was young, fit and healthy; he could eat, drink and do anything he wished without his wife feeling the need to point out that cream would possibly aggravate his gout, and perhaps just one small glass of port would be wise, rather than a whole bottle? It was wonderful to be, for the first time in her life, cared for rather than being a carer. They had been to several functions since they had been married, and at all of them he had shown her the utmost consideration. If he seemed somewhat more indifferent when they were alone together, well, that was only to be expected; war was looming, and he had important things to think about. Anne, accustomed to taking last place in people's minds, was honoured to take only second place in Richard's.
She carefully cut the thread on the waistcoat she was embroidering for him, then laid it down on the table at her side. She looked across to where he was seated on the other side of the fire, one muscular leather-booted leg crossed over the other, deeply engrossed in the latest copy of The Gentleman's Magazine. He looked very fine in his new uniform with its gleaming brass buttons and silver lace trim denoting his new rank.
"What are you reading?" she asked, not because she was really interested in hearing the latest episode of the political satire set in the senate of Lilliput, but just for the joy of hearing his rich mellow voice. She had never known what it was to be truly in love before, and it was marvellous.
"I'm reading an article as to what measures Britons ought to pursue in foreign wars," the object of her devotion replied. "But there is not much in here that would be of interest to you. The poetry perhaps."
"Oh, is there an interesting poem? Do read one to me, Richard!"
"Not now, Anne," he replied. "I really want to finish this before I go to the club."
She fell silent, and returned to her embroidery. She needed a new colour for the wings of the butterflies that were fluttering around the buttonholes. She heaved herself out of her chair, her body heavy and awkward in her last months of pregnancy, and moved across to the table where she kept her box of embroidery silks, opening it and surveying the range of colours inside. Brown, they had to be a shade of brown. He wouldn't wear it if it was garish. She lifted out a beige shade, considered it for a moment, then put it back. It was too light, and would not make a strong enough contrast with the cream of the silk.
Richard finished his article and turned the page.
"I have been thinking, my love, about what name we should give the baby when it is born," she ventured.
He did not reply, but he did not ask her to be quiet either, which she took as permission to continue.
"I thought to call it Arabella if it is a girl. If you have no objection, of course."
She took out a skein of chocolate brown silk.
"Yes, if you want," her husband replied indifferently, his nose still buried in the periodical.
"It is such a wonderful coincidence that Arabella was the name of your mother as well as of Stanley's," she said happily. "And if it is a boy, I thought perhaps … "
"It will not be a boy," he interrupted. He closed the paper and placed it on the small table next to him.
"Well, I am sure I am hoping for a girl, if that is what you would prefer, Richard. But really, we cannot be certain it will be." She held the silk up to the lamp.
"Are you arguing with me, Anne?" he asked quietly.
"No of course not, darling," she said. The silk was a warm, rich shade of brown, and would match his eyes perfectly. She smiled. "But it is not for us, but for God to choose the gender of a child. I thought it best to be prepared in case … "