“I see.” Deirdre’s voice implied she saw much more than was proper, and Winnifred squirmed on her seat. Why had she thought having her mother-in-law present for the interview a good idea? This visit could hardly be more uncomfortable.Because a marchioness must never give anyone cause to doubt her respectability.
Winnifred exhaled loudly.
“Now, what can we do for ye?” Deirdre waved in the maid pushing a rolling cart filled with refreshments, deftly taking control as the hostess.
Donald gave her the unassuming smile that Winnifred remembered well. She’d once considered the possibility of waking up to it every morning. “I’m leaving Inver tomorrow and wanted to say my farewells. The marchioness and I used to be good friends.” He shook his head. “Marchioness. Not in a hundred years would I have thought I’d be calling you that. It is most strange.”
“On that we agree.” Deirdre poured a cup of tea and handed it to Donald. “What is it you do, Mr. …? I apologize. I’ve quite forgotten your name.”
“MacConnell.” Taking the cup, he leaned back in the chair. Horatio shuffled closer, his snout breaching the armrest. Donald leaned farther away. “And I do a lot of different things. A real jock-of-all-trades, you could say.”
“Could one?” Deirdre curled her lip before taking a sip of tea.
Winnifred scooted forward and poured her own cup. “And how are your parents? You told me once your father had gout.”
Donald sighed. “Aye, it’s ails him still, but what can you expect when food is scarce and good Scotsmen work their fingers to the bone just to earn a few quid. Being subjugated by thisUnitedKingdom as it’s called, times are tough.”
“Subject, don’t you mean?” Winnifred didn’t understand the animosity against the union. The English were subject to the same laws and responsibilities. How was it unjust?
Banquo whined, and she slipped him a treat from her pocket.
Donald grinned. “You’re Scottish now, Winnie. Time to put yer loyalties to right. Who knows, you might have come north at the right time. You might get to see a free Scotland.”
Winnifred stilled, ignoring the nudges Banquo was giving her. “Do you advocate for rebellion?”
He scoffed. “Of course not. That would be treason.” His voice wasn’t convincing. “But it’s every true Scot’s dream to live in a free and independent Scotland.”
Deirdre nodded in agreement.
“And one never knows. England might be coming to her senses sooner than you think.” Horatio snorted, and Donald jerked her cup out of range. Some tea slopped over the edge and landed on the armrest of his chair. Donald pulled out a handkerchief and swiped at the mess.
“I would hope,” Winnifred said, carefully choosing her words, “that if and when the time comes for Scottish independence, it will have arrived through thoughtful discourse and mutual agreement rather than through fear and violence.”
Her friend shook his head, shoving his handkerchief back in his pocket. “You always were naïve.”
Winnifred flushed. He’d called her that once before, and like then, she paid the accusation no heed. She understood precisely how terrible human nature could be. She refused to apologize, however, for believing that people could, and should, behave in a proper and logical fashion. Donald had disappointed her once on that score; it seemed little had changed.
“How did you come to be in Mr. Hannon’s employ?” Deirdre set her cup down in its saucer, the china clinking harshly. “A good Scottish laddie like you seems ill-placed in London.”
“My family was evicted from our home during the Highland removals.” Donald’s nostrils flared. “My pa was desperate for work so we moved to London. But he missed home too much and moved back with my mam only two years later. I stayed a couple more years, sending money back home.”
Winnifred blinked. She hadn’t known his family had been a part of the removals. But then, she’d never asked. Banquo nosed her thigh, and she slipped him another wedge of cheese. He snapped it up without chewing. His back jerked, his head lurching forward and back, and the poor thing started wheezing.
“Oh dear.” She rubbed his back, but the wheezing continued, adding a cough and a whistle as Banquo tried to suck air past the lodged bit of food.
Deirdre frowned and rose from her seat. “Come, Banquo. Let’s take this outside.” She grabbed him by the scruff and walked him to the door, calling for a footman.
Donald jumped to his feet, side-stepped past Horatio and hurried to Winnifred.
She stood as well, meeting his gaze.
“I must be going soon.” Donald leaned in closer than she liked. “I would hope with you living in my country that we’d see more of each other, but I fear we no longer belong to the same spheres.”
“No, I suspect I’ll lead a quiet life here at Kenmore.” She sidled backwards, and her legs hit the chair.
He inched forward, glancing over his shoulder.
Deirdre was still at the door waiting for a servant, poor Banquo still making enough noise to mask their conversation.
