Joseph sucked on his teeth. “Not much. Just the usual rantings. Those for the Articles saying it will be Alba’s salvation. Those against the Articles saying it will be our ruin. The same old stuff, really.”
Niall nodded. Flora plonked a pottery beaker on the table in front of him, a little harder than necessary.
Niall glanced up at her. “My thanks.”
Flora grunted and turned back to stirring the porridge. He could guess what had gotten her ire up but he wasn’t quite ready to face that yet.
“Any mention of Lady Murray’s ball last night?”
Joseph rifled through the pamphlets until he found the one he was looking for. “Aye, here it is. A list of notable attendees that’s all, but there is a bit of gossip mentioning that the Countess of Argyll seemed to have attended twice?”
Niall winced. He knew that havingtwoCountesses of Argyle turn up would have caused a stir, but had hoped the guests would have forgotten about the oddity as the wine and whisky had flowed. Seems that wasn’t the case.
Joseph was watching him with that look that always made Niall feel like a misbehaving school boy. In his sixties, with a shock of wild white hair and beard to match, Joseph looked like a woodsman. With his rough manners and plain-speaking ways, people often underestimated him. But Joseph was one of the shrewdest people Niall knew.
“And was going to that nest of vipers worth it? Did ye discover anything?”
Niall shrugged. “I’m not sure yet. I did manage to arrange a meeting with Alistair MacTavish. But other than that, I came away empty-handed.”
“Hardly that!” Flora snapped, turning around and brandishing a dripping wooden spoon. She gestured at the pamphlets laid out on the table. “Ye’ll be lucky if there isnae a pamphlet aboutyeby the end of the day—talking about how ye—an unmarried man—brought a drunken woman home last night!”
Ah, so here it was.
Niall sighed, running a hand through his already tousled hair. “I couldnae leave her out in the streets, Flora. She was alone and intoxicated, and it seemed she didnae even know where she was.”
Flora huffed in response, turning back to her porridge with an audible clatter. “That may be, but bringing her back here will have the tongues wagging, ye mark my words.”
Joseph leaned back in his chair and stroked his beard thoughtfully. “She’s right, lad. It was a risk bringing her here. When I went out for the pamphlets I did a bit of digging, trying to find out who our guest might be.”
Niall nodded, taking a sip from his cup of mint tea. The bitter drink left a pleasant warmth in his chest. “And have ye discovered anything?”
“No, but I’m working on it. I’ve got a man asking around town.”
Niall nodded and curled his big hands around the cup. The warmth seeped into his fingers and he welcomed the sensation. It helped to revive him a little as he had a slightly thick head this morning, which was unusual for him. He must have drank more than he intended last night—again unusual for him. He normally exerted an iron-willed control over himself.
He berated himself silently, annoyed at such a slip. He could not afford such lapses, not when so much depended on his success. His slip had been caused, no doubt, by the strange events of yesterday. First, Irene MacAskill and then Charlotte Douglas. Their appearance had left him feeling unsettled and off balance but that was no excuse. He’d been playing this game for long enough to know to expect the unexpected.
The question was: who was Charlotte?
She had not behaved like any Edinburgh lady he’d ever met. Nor any lady at all, for that matter. She was not shy about getting drunk or talking out of turn, or arguing her point.
And she’d kissed him. Kissed him!
The memory of that sent a curl of heat right down to his groin. Where was she from? Who were her companions? And why was she here?
The fact that none of Joseph’s network of watchers had been able to find any answers intrigued him all the more.
Flora thumped a bowl of porridge down in front of him and lowered herself into one of the chairs, puffing and blowing as she settled.
“My old bones,” she complained. “They’ve been twice as bad since we came here. It’s the foul air in this city, I tell ye. Give me the open skies and the fresh air of Glennoch any day of the week.”
Niall squeezed her hand. “Aye. I know how ye feel. We’ll be going home soon.”
“Aye?” said Flora, perking up. “When?”
“As soon as I’ve finalized a few things here.”
His answer was deliberately vague. Flora and Joseph shared a long look but didn’t pursue it, for which Niall was grateful. He concentrated on eating his porridge. Flora had made it just how he liked it—not too hot and with just the right amount of salt. How many years had she been making his breakfast like this? Too many to remember. Even when he’d been just a boy and by rights should have eaten in the great hall with the rest of his family, he sneaked into the kitchen to eat with Flora and Joseph.
