Page 109 of The Laird’s Lost Wife

Hunter made a vague gesture. “Go ahead.”

“With all due respect, me Laird, ye shouldnae be so loyal to a clan or a council that turned against ye as soon as the opportunity arose.”

He flinched. “Ye forget yerself, lad.”

“Maybe I do.” Jasper shrugged. “But I ken how hard ye work, me Laird, and what ye have sacrificed. When it comes to serving people, a person can give up every bit of themselves, blood and bone, until nothing is left. I suppose the question we must ask ourselves is, when have we given enough?”

Hunter only stared at him, at a loss for words.

Eventually, Jasper bowed and slipped out of the room.

For a moment, Hunter sat quietly, staring at the door. A rustling from the corner of the room drew his attention. He glanced over to the nest of blankets and straw, from which a three-legged fox stepped out, tilting its head at him.

Daphne wasn’t sure whether it was a problem with the aristocracy in general or just the English aristocracy that they assumed all servants were deaf.

“She does look brighter,” Lady Tollerhampton conceded, stirring her sixth lump of sugar into her teacup. “But then, not all of us are willing to run off to the wilds of Scotland for every slight indisposition.”

The second guest, Lady Penn, sniffed, lifting her pointed nose a little higher. “I heard that she gave her companion a guest room. What nonsense. It’ll give the girl ideas above her station. What is wrong with a servant’s room anyway?”

The youngest and possibly kindest of the little group, Mrs. Spencer, cast a nervous glance at where Daphne sat in the shade.

“Well, a companion is not really a servant.”

Lady Tollerhampton, who was Mrs. Spencer’s sister and was thoroughly annoyed that her sister had recently thrown away her status as a baron’s widow only to wed a common Captain Spencer, shot her an annoyed look.

“Of course they are, my dear. Don’t be foolish. Anyway, what do you all think? Lady Pilbury has been strange since her return. Only yesterday, she mentioned returning to Scotland. My dear, I said, I must tell you quite plainly that you’ll be considered thoroughly odd if you do so. Go to Edinburgh, if you must, or some nice country estate in the southern parts of Scotland, but why on earth should a person go further north? The weather is bad, and heaven only knows how uncivilized the people are.”

Daphne had brought some mending out to the garden to keep herself entertained while Lady Pilbury and her friends took tea. Under the safety of her mending, she curled her fingers into fists, breathing hard.

Briefly, she allowed herself to imagine lurching forward and tipping over the tea table. She imagined tearing that hideous hat off Lady Penn’s head and ideally stomping on all the fake fruits and vegetables piled on top of it. She would push Lady Tollerhampton over and perhaps deliver a few good kicks.

Mrs. Spencer would receive only a stern look as a reproach for the company she kept. She often brought peppermint pieces for Willow and had once gifted her a small cloth doll.

Daphne’s insides tightened as she thought of her daughter sitting listlessly in the library.

Lady Pilbury had announced, quite unexpectedly, that it was high time that Willow began some lessons. She had arranged and paid for them herself, just simple lessons with a friendly, round-faced governess.

Me little girl is growing up. On to bigger and better things, I suppose. And me? I’m stuck here.

Not that living with Lady Pilbury was difficult. But her friends… ugh.

And none of them is Hunter.

Even thinking his name sent a shiver down her spine. Daphne squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head.

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.

There’d been no response to her letter. She’d calculated how long it would take for her letter to reach the Highlands and how long it might take to receive one back.

There should have been a reply by now. And even if Hunter chose not to write to her, surely Helena would have?

Maybe they both want to forget us. Maybe Willow will never see her father again.

No, that was too miserable to consider.

She cleared her throat, shifting in her seat, and three pairs of eyes landed squarely on her, two of them unfriendly.

“Did you require something, Miss Tulloch?” Lady Tollerhampton snapped.