Page 48 of Ghost of the Ton

Her eyes flickered with an emotion Mia recognized, for she had seen it in the mirror.

The pain of rejection.

“But it would be good to have a friend here,” Mia continued, “though I’d prefer not to be called ‘ma’am.’ Or ‘Lady MacLennan.’”

“May I ask what yer name might be?”

“Euphramia,” Mia said, offering her hand. “Euphramia Lucas.”

“Not MacLennan?”

“Only in name, and not for long.”

Maisie opened her mouth to reply, then closed it again as her gaze fell on Mia’s hand. Then she took her hand and clasped it, her fingers brushing over Mia’s pockmarks.

“My friends call me Mia.”

“Then I’m pleased to know ye, Miss Lucas. And may I say it’s a shame ye’ve had to leave the castle. Murdoch said Master Hamish threw ye out, but I said to him that Master Hamish wouldnae do anything so cruel. He’s a good man, if a little stern at times. But then, he carries the cares of the clan on his shoulders—broad shoulders that they are…”

Maisie rattled on, a flare of lust in her eyes, and Mia tempered the little spike of resentment.

Perhaps that was why Hamish had been so eager to leave yesterday—to spend the night with a woman he could stomach looking at.

“It was my choice to leave the castle,” Mia said. “Lord MacLennan and I have come to an arrangement. I will live here until I leave Glenblath, then we’ll no longer be married. It won’t be for some months, but I’ll use the time as best I can to repay him for his hospitality.”

“By living on yer own?”

“I wish to become a doctor,” Mia said. “And by permitting me to leave, Lord MacLennan will be helping me to further that aim. While I’m here, I can tend to the sick.”

Maisie’s eyes widened.

“Lord MacLennan agreed to it,” Mia added, “and Lady MacLennan approves.”

“Ye’re Lady MacLennan.”

“No,” Mia said. “I’m not—and I was never meant to be.”

“Hamish married ye.”

“Only because he thought I wouldn’t…” Mia lowered her gaze to her marked hands. She had no wish for the world to think ill of Hamish. It was she who’d set her lawyer the task of finding a husband in the belief that she’d not survive more than a day beyond the marriage. And Hamish had agreed to return her fortune. Most men would have turned her out, penniless—or worse, kept her shackled in an unhappy marriage while they took other women to bed.

To Mia’s shame, understanding flickered in Maisie’s gaze.

“Well now!” Maisie said, her voice overly bright. She brushed past Mia to the kitchen and placed her basket on the table. Then she fished out an apron and tied it around her waist. “There’s much to do to make the place good and tidy, but two pairs of hands will make light work of it.” She picked up the broom that Mia had propped against the wall last night and let out a huff. “That Mrs. Bron could have given ye something better than this. It’s lost almost all its bristles. Never mind, it’ll do.”

She paused and fixed her clear gaze on Mia.

“I take it ye dinnae mind my being here? Ye only need say the word and I’ll go. Ask anyone hereabouts and they’ll say that Maisie never outstays her welcome.”

The little creases around Maisie’s eyes spoke of pain and rejection. This woman, the doxy whom men used to satisfy their physical needs, who most likely warmed their beds at night, then left as soon as the men had taken their pleasure so that her presence might not taint their lives…

As a doxy rather than a wife, Maisie had freedom, but with that freedom came loneliness, for she had nobody to love her.

Perhaps she and I are more alike than any other.

Maisie paused, the ghost of a plea in her eyes.

“Very well,” Mia said. “But I must insist on one thing.”