To realize that her neighbors looked upon her with newfound respect, as if she had somehow gained worth overnight.
To savor the relief that, perhaps, her younger self had not been as much a fool as she had supposed.
In the course of just one hour, Leah found herself as smitten with him as she had been all those years ago. Perhaps, even more so.
Because in just over three weeks, she would be his wife.
Of course, Foxwas back up the glen when Mrs. Buchan and Mrs. Clark came calling two days later.
“Well, Miss Penn-Leith, ye certainly have been keeping surprises from us,” Mrs. Buchan said in lieu of a proper greeting, handing her bonnet and gloves to Fiona.
“Aye,” Mrs. Clark agreed. “We had no idea the captain had developed a tendre for ye. Mr. Johnston said he saw the captain riding to Thistle Muir earlier last week. Ye’ve been a sly one, lass.”
Leah managed a smile that did not reach her eyes and asked Fiona to bring some tea.
Of course, the village would all assume that Fox and herself were a love match. Why else would a wealthy, handsome man marry a confirmed spinster who was several rungs beneath him socially?
Moreover, Leah could not bring herself to correct their misperception.
That may have been why the conversation between herself and her guests immediately strayed into territory marked ‘For Married Women Only’—a sphere that Leah knew existed, but one in which she had never before been welcomed.
It was as shocking as it was thrilling.
“Major McAlpin would be pleased tae see the castle thriving with life after all his lonely years there,” Mrs. Clark said, referring to Laverloch’s former owner. “He was never quite the same after Waterloo.”
“Aye,” Mrs. Buchan agreed, reaching for another piece of Mrs. McGregor’s excellent shortbread. “How could he be, losing his leg and other bits in such a fashion? He was scarcely a man when he came home.”
Mrs. Clark clucked her tongue and agreed.
For her part, Leah willed herself not to blush.
Other bits? Scarcely a man?
She had known Major McAlpin for decades but had never caught wind of this. That Waterloo had taken more than just his left leg.
No wonder he had never had children, no one to inherit his estate outside of a distant English relative who had immediately sold it on.
Leah had known that her life was being lived behind a curtain, that there were vistas she could not see, but she hadn’t quite understoodhowlimited her vision had been.
Gracious, what other revelations awaited her?
“I havenae visited the castle since the major’s wife was alive, so nigh upon fifteen years,” Mrs. Clark said. “I’ve heard tell that he widened the main staircase.”
“Och, he had tae.” Mrs. Buchan sipped her tea. “Major McAlpin had a carpenter in Edinburgh construct a brilliant false leg for hisself, but then he couldnae climb the narrow spiral staircases with his crutch. So he had the main one widened enough so’s he could manage them with a crutch under his right arm.”
“Aye?” Mrs. Clark’s eyebrows flew upward. “Makes sense, I suppose.”
“Well, it was scandalous, if ye ask me.”
“Scandalous?” Leah frowned.
“O’course,” Mrs. Buchan nodded, most matter-of-fact. “The major only widened the one, ye see, when he should have fixed them all. The spiral staircases in Laverloch are frightful tight. Two peoplecanpass, provided they do so chest-to-chest—”
“Oh!” Mrs. Clark giggled. “Or buttock-to-buttock!”
Leah stared, torn between hilarity and wide-eyed wonder.
Mrs. Clark . . . giggling!
