Page 101 of Ghost of the Ton

“Nothing,” Hamish said. “I’ll join her directly.”

He rose and made his way to his mother’s chambers, where he found her sitting beside the fireplace as usual and Monarch—the treacherous cur—curled up at her feet. Her guests rose on his arrival. But the dog, other than opening a single yellow eye then closing it again, didn’t deign to acknowledge his presence.

Unable to meet his wife’s gaze, Hamish first looked at Maisie, whose eyes betrayed a discomfort to rival his own. Though she had warmed Hamish’s bed in the past, Maisie had never yet been invited into Ma’s chambers. What laird’s wife would be seen entertaining the local whore?

“M-Master Hamish,” Maisie stammered, “forgive me for being here. I didnae intend—”

“Now, my dear, there’s no need for that,” Hamish’s mother said. “Ye’re here on business as my guest, is she not, Mia?”

Hamish let his gaze drift toward his wife, expecting contempt, but all he saw was an easy, open smile.

She inclined her head. “Maisie and I have you to thank, Hamish, for agreeing to the use of your carriage for our journey.”

“J-journey?” he said, a knot of apprehension in his stomach. “Ye’re leaving Glenblath already?”

“Mia’s going to Glasgow,” his mother said. “She’s been telling us all about the vaccination process. It sounds fascinating, if not a little daunting. It almost put me off my tea.”

“I’m sorry for that, Eilidh,” Mia said, resuming her seat and gesturing for Maisie to do likewise.

“Och, ye needn’t worry, lass. I’ve given birth to two children”—Ma eyed Hamish with a wry smile—“one of whom was a great, lumbering giant of a lad who fair split me in two. I can weather a description of a little bloodletting. Maisie’s the brave one, to take the first cut.”

“Cut?”

Hamish glanced at Maisie. Perhaps her discomfort was to do with what was to happen to her in Glasgow.

Ma let out a laugh. “Och, men! They think us the weaker sex, yet they’ll pass out at the first sight of blood. Did yer Dr. Nimmo administer the vaccine without crying for his ma? As for yer Dr. McIver, I cannae believe that he was able to saw a man’s leg off and retain his wits afterward.”

“Saw a man’s leg off?” Hamish said. “Devil’s ballocks, what does the vaccination process entail?”

Maisie giggled and Mia turned away to hide her smile.

“Och, dinnae be a fool, lad,” Ma said. “And ye’re making my chamber look untidy standing there. Pour yerself a cup of tea and sit, for the love of the Almighty, or I’ll turn ye out.”

Hamish did as he was bidden. It was often easier to obey Ma without question when she was in a determined frame of mind.

“Yer limbs are safe, Hamish,” she said, once he’d sat. “But it’s good to know that Mia here could perform surgery if needed, with a stout heart and skilled hands.”

“Eilidh…” Mia began, but Ma raised her hand.

“Iona told me all about it, lass.”

“Iona?” Hamish said. “What does she know?”

“A great deal,” Ma said. “I’ll thank ye not to speak badly of yer sister. She’s been making friends with Mia, hasn’t she, lass?”

“Well…” Discomfort filled Mia’s eyes. “She asked me a little about medicine and some of the operations I’ve assisted with.”

Hamish shook his head. “Iona wouldnae hold out the hand of friendship unless she wanted to bite it off ye.”

“Och, ye’re too harsh on the lass,” Ma said.

“Ye must admit, Ma, she’s been too wild of late. I…”

Hamish’s voice trailed away as the door opened and Iona appeared. Her eyes widened as she saw him.

“Come in,” Ma said. “Do ye want something?”

“Only to get away from that Brodie. He’s been following me about again. I dinnae like it.”