Rupert admired the scenery, but spent most of the journey wondering what Lady Bruce was going to be able to tell him about Celina Stirling and the MacLean’s feud with the Fitzalans.
It still felt rather strange to be announced as ‘Lord Fitzalan’, but he walked into Lady Bruce’s drawing room as though it was the boardroom of his New York Railway Company.
“Lord Fitzalan, I am so delighted to meet you,” said his hostess, coming forward. “I was a great friend of your grandfather, though I regret I saw little of him over the last few years as he became something of a recluse.”
Lady Bruce was a no-nonsense figure in a tweed skirt and jacket with a pair of pince-nez dangling down the front of her silk shirt. Iron-grey hair was arranged in two plaits that circled each ear. Her voice managed
