Page 123 of Ghost of the Ton

“Twenty or so, if Maisie’s list of names is accurate. I’ve not been able to persuade them. But I didn’t have much hope of Murdoch agreeing. Nor Robbie. Reverend Sutherland took the vaccine last week. I had hoped that the minister taking the vaccine might persuade others to follow.”

“Their laird taking it might persuade more,” Hamish said. “Ma said I ought to show an example for the sake of the clan.”

“So you’re here on your mother’s insistence—and for no other reason?”

“Aye.”

Her smile slipped. “I’m afraid you’re too late.”

“Too late? But ye can administer it now, cannae ye?”

“I need another patient to pass the vaccine on. There’s only young Jamie Sutherland who has the blisters. He’s coming tomorrow, so you could return then.”

“Aren’t ye going to offer me a pot of tea, seein’ as it’s women’s work?”

His feeble little joke did nothing to restore the light that had gone from her eyes.

“You should go after your sister,” she said. “She needs you more than I ever could.”

Her words sliced through his heart. But Mia was right—she didn’t need him. What had he ever done to prove himself worthy of her?

“Iona needs ye also, Mia,” he said. “I’m glad she could tell ye.”

“She’ll need you when I am gone, unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Unless she comes with me. I’ve said she can if she wishes it.” She gave a wistful smile. “She’s proving to be an adept helpmate and would make a competent nurse.”

“Ye—and Iona?” He shook his head. “She’s never succeeded at anything other than irking her brother.”

“Perhaps that’s why she asked if I might consider taking her with me when I leave Glenblath,” Mia said. “A rejected wife and a rejected sister—ruined woman and unwed mother. We can be misfits together.”

“Och, ye’re not a ruined…” His voice trailed off as her expression hardened. “Forgive me, Mia,” he whispered.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” she replied. “I ruined myself. It was my mistake. But in a short while, it will not matter.”

“No, it won’t,” he said, unable to disguise the bitterness in his voice. “Come Candlemas, ye’ll be free of us.”

“Candlemas?”

“The next quarter day. I hope to have raised sufficient funds to meet yer demands, though if the tenants are unable to provide the cash ye seek, ye might have to do with a few head of cattle in lieu of the rest.”

Her mouth settled into a straight, firm line. “I’ll take what you have to give if it grants my freedom.”

“In which case, I’ll write to my lawyer in Edinburgh to proceed with the annulment.”

“Very good,” she said, rising. “I’ll see you tomorrow for your vaccination, then we needn’t meet again unless to discuss the settlement.”

Had he imagined it, or was there a tremor in her voice? But the expression in her eyes was shuttered.

Considering himself dismissed, and unable to think of what to say that didn’t make him look even more of a fool, Hamish bowed and saw himself out. Only by the time he arrived at the castle had his mind formulated an appropriate response: a wish that they might remain friends, perhaps write to each other so that he might hear of her successes—and successes they’d undoubtedly be—on her road to becoming a doctor.

But it was too late. Why could he never think of the right thing to say to her when he’d had no trouble conversing with women before—or enticing them into his bed?

Perhaps it was because, for the first time in his life, he feared saying the wrong thing. He cared what Mia thought of him. The depth of his feelings for her had lain dormant in a corner of his soul, where it had been given the spark of life the day he’d first met her in that sorrowful little London parlor. But now, his soul was filled with it.

The castle doors opened to reveal Hamish’s mother, her face contorted with distress.