Page 46 of The Laird’s Lost Wife

A fire burned in the grate, and the table creaked under the weight of food: meat of all kinds—pork, chicken, goose, beef, quail—along with bowls of boiled eggs, tureens of thick gravy, and large dishes with golden buttery pies. There was plenty of bread, of course, and bowls of vegetables prepared every way a person could think. Boiled, roasted, stewed, and so on.

When was the last time she’d seen so much food?

Hunter sat at the head of the table, twirling a short knife in his hand. The metal caught the light, glinting. Helena sat beside him, spooning vegetables onto her plate.

She glanced up first. “Ah, Daphne, pet, here ye are! Come in, sit down.”

Daphne cleared her throat, smoothing down the bodice of her dress. “Thank ye.”

Hunter’s gaze landed on her. His eyes trailed down her gown, which was admittedly a little tighter than the one she’d worn before. The blue one, she’d been told, suited her.

“Ye have yer hair down,” he noted.

She felt color rise to her cheeks. Hesitantly, she lifted a hand, tugging on the ends of her hair.

“Me scalp hurts from twisting it up in a knot too often,” she heard herself say. “I thought I could leave it down. We’re in the Highlands, after all.”

“It looks very pretty,” Helena complimented, smiling. She gestured to a chair opposite her and on Hunter’s left-hand side. “Sit, sit. Aye, I ken the English are strict about things like that. Ye wouldnae be permitted to go outside with Lady Pilbury with yer hair loose like that, would ye?”

“Nay, I wouldnae.”

“Stupid rule,” Hunter muttered. He leaned forward, spearing a piece of meat with his knife. “It’s just hair.”

Daphne said nothing. She settled herself in the chair, except it wasn’t a chair at all, but a long bench. She hardly dared fidget too much, but when she moved, her knee brushed against Hunter’s, sending a thrill through her.

Stop it, she cursed herself, trying to force the blush down from her cheeks.

“Nae hungry?” Helena asked innocently.

Daphne forced a smile. “I’m quite hungry.”

She shifted on the hard bench, gnawing on her lower lip, while Helena piled her plate high with meat, vegetables, and bread.

Quite hungry didn’t quite cover it. Lady Pilbury didn’t bother with fashionable hours anymore, and so they all ate their dinner at a reasonable hour. Hunter, apparently, waited until seven or eight to eat. They had had some light snacks in the carriage, and of course regular stops, but mostly nothing substantial. Her stomach cramped, demanding food.

However, with the first few bites, it became clear that she’d passed the boundary of hunger and reached nausea. She kept eating determinedly, although the grease on the meat turned her stomach.

Just me luck. I waited all day for a meal, and now I daenae want it.

Silence fell over the table, broken only by the quiet crunch of jaws and the scrape of Hunter’s knife on his plate.

Clearing her throat, Daphne glanced from face to face.

“Is it just us, then?” she asked, her voice weak. “For dinner?”

“Aye.” Helena nodded. “I asked Edith to join us, but she’s too tired tonight. Did Willow join ye at yer mealtimes?”

“Aye, if that’s all right. Often, when we travel with Lady Pilbury, her friends want Willow to stay out of sight.”

Daphne had meant that as a throwaway comment. Perhaps it was a stupid thing to say, but she was tired, her head ached, and her stomach was churning.

At once, Hunter’s head snapped up. “Why?”

She blinked at him. “Why do ye think? She’s the daughter of Lady Pilbury’s companion. They are scarcely interested in their own children. Besides, I reckon that most of them guess the truth. We tell them that I’m a widow, but that’s a common excuse.”

“It’s a pity that ye must be treated that way,” Helena remarked, frowning. “I wonder why Edith puts up with it.”

“Oh, Lady Pilbury rarely sees it all. Her friends are clever enough to slight me behind her back, at least. I daenae like to complain. Especially in recent years, she’s had fewer and fewer friends. She’s been good to me, and I daenae want to put her off people she cares about.”