Chapter Thirty-Seven

Lady Roselyn sat at her desk, waiting for Fiona to arrive. A short time ago, this room had been transformed into a fantasy world where guests could select the clothes from a different time and place and dream. While the wedding vows were being exchanged and guests gathering for the reception, everything had been put back the way it was. All the gowns had been returned to their wardrobes, and all the jewels locked safely in vaults. But the chamber looked sad, somehow.

She tried to shake off the impression. She should feel relieved. Happy. The tour was almost over, a wedding had taken place, and couples had found their soulmates. Mission accomplished. But she was on edge as though reflecting the mood around her. Nothing about this tour had been routine. She should be thankful that it was almost over, instead of wondering if this was a sign of things to come.

She bent over the thick matchmaker book, with the symbol of a Scottish thistle etched in its leather cover. The entries dated back hundreds of years. It was customary that the eldest sister record the matches made in the Highlands, and carrying on the tradition brought her a measure of peace.

She dipped her pen in the inkwell and added Irene and Logan’s names beneath Ann and Sean’s and Julia and Grant’s. From time to time she would make a point to check on her couples and update their status. It was part of who she and her sisters were. They wanted everyone happily settled. For now, Lady Roselyn was pleased with her couples’ progress. She’d already written the word “married” in the column next to Ann and Sean and felt confident she would be doing the same for the other couples soon.

Finished, she leaned against the chair and rolled her shoulders. Even with the tour’s successes, she couldn’t shake her unease. What was keeping Fiona? Lady Roselyn pushed back from her desk, stood, and began pacing the room. That sister of hers had no sense of time. One day she’d cut it too close and…

“Bridget said you wanted to see me?” Fiona had entered from a side door. Her face was flushed and her breathing labored.

Lady Roselyn took in Fiona’s appearance. She looked perfect in every way. There wasn’t a hair out of place, as though Fiona had stepped out of a thirteenth-century fashion magazine. A pillbox-style hat sat on her head, secured with a chin band. Her hair was neatly secured under a gold net at the nape of her neck, and she wore a loosely fitted gown under an embroidered surcoat.

Their mother had often said that it was the little things in a person’s appearance that hinted at either inner peace or rebellions bubbling beneath the surface. In Fiona’s case, Lady Roselyn speculated on the latter. Fiona was trying too hard to avoid arousing attention…or suspicion. There was nothing peaceful about Fiona’s expression or her bearing. She reminded Lady Roselyn of a coiled spring.

Lady Roselyn tested her theory. “You look lovely.”

Fiona slipped a finger beneath the chin band to loosen it. “I thought it was time I started looking like the other maidens in this time period.”

Lady Roselyn fluffed out her sleeve. “Pity we won’t be coming back for a while.”

Fiona’s expression froze. She chewed on her lower lip. “If it’s about the troublemakers, we’ve taken care of them, and we’ve made sure there was a wedding. Customer satisfaction is at an all-time high.” Her voice hardened. “The Matchmaker Council can’t blame us for what happened. In fact, they should give us ribbons.”

Lady Roselyn forced herself to remain calm. Fiona had overreacted. Not good. It shouldn’t matter where they conducted their matchmaking tours. It bothered her that she’d had to resort to deception to ferret out the truth, but she had tried the direct approach a few months ago, and Fiona had deflected her questions. Fiona would go missing for hours on end. Lady Roselyn had to know the truth. Being the eldest was a heavy burden. There were days…

She cleared her throat and pressed her point. “We haven’t heard from the council regarding what happened here. I’m being proactive. Besides, we could use a change of scenery. It will do us all some good.”

Fiona loosened the chin band at her neck even more, then gave up and removed her hat. “We have to come back.”

The expression in Fiona’s eyes spoke of longing and pain. Lady Roselyn glanced away for a brief moment, recognizing that expression. She’d seen it often enough in her mirror. She tucked the matchmaker book under her arm. The signs had been there all along. Of late, her younger sister was more excited than usual to visit this century. She knew for a fact Fiona wasn’t meeting with her betrothed. Liam often commented that he couldn’t find her. Lady Roselyn suspected her sister was seeing someone in this century. Normally she liked being right. Now was not one of those times.

Lady Roselyn kept her voice light, as she reached for Fiona’s arm. “Staying away from Stirling Castle for a while will be for the best. You’ll see.”

Fiona looked like a trapped animal. Her gaze darted behind her as she tried to disengage from her sister’s grip. “I think I forgot something. It won’t take long. I’ll be right back.”

Lady Roselyn held firm. “There isn’t time. The door to the twenty-first century has opened, and we have to escort our guests back to their own time.” She launched the final test. “When we return, we can start planning your wedding. You have delayed it for too long as it is. Have you and Liam decided where you want to get married?”

“Liam and I don’t love each other.”

And there it was. Her heart ached for her younger sister. She’d hoped love would grow between Fiona and Liam. It hadn’t happened for her and her late husband, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen for others. Lady Roselyn repeated the speech her mother had given her on her wedding day. “Arranged marriages are based on other considerations. Marriage between matchmakers has never been about love. It’s about carrying on our traditions and helping others find their soulmates.”

“Do you ever wonder if it’s time we challenged those outdated rules?” Fiona said.

Lady Roselyn guided Fiona over to the door. “Never,” she lied.