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“Before you left for Dunmure.”

“But ’tis not possible. I didn’t—”

“You didn’t yet know you held an affection for him. But I could tell.”

Emma thought back to the dinner. She remembered being appalled by Garrick’s status, grateful that he’d agreed to look at Nella and . . .

“I knew how badly you wanted to see Clara. And also that Garrick was on his way to forge an alliance with the Earl of Magnus.”

“But how could you have known—”

“It was foolish,” Sara said, interrupting her, “of me to encourage you to go. I knew of Garrick’s reputation. And could sense the connection between you at dinner.”

Reputation?

“But I also know him to be an honorable man. One who would not lie with one woman when he was promised to another. And I also trust your judgment, Emma.”

There was no conjecture in her voice. Sara was simply stating facts.

“His reputation?”

Sara rolled her eyes heavenward, as if trying to grasp a distant memory before it floated away. “He and Conrad have broken many hearts between them.”

“Sir Conrad Anstead?” Emma had met him briefly. A knight who knew his own appeal.

“Aye. A second son known more for conquering women than enemies in battle. And Garrick’s best friend. He’s rarely left Clave since moving there to foster with the old earl.”

Garrick had spoken little of Conrad. In fact, there was much they had not spoken of. She hardly knew him at all, really.

“I didn’t worry, though I should have. When you avoided talking about Graeme—”

“Sara, I’m in love with Garrick.” She blurted it out, knowing it would be easier to admit to all at once.

“I know.”

“How could you possibly—”

“You’ve not been yourself since returning from Scotland. And I must say, I’m surprised. An earl?” A small smile quirked her lips.

Emma should have known there would be no censure from Sara. She should have confided in her earlier.

“I didn’t intend for it to happen. I didn’t even know the purpose of his trip, at first. By the time I’d learned . . .” She shrugged and looked up at the timber crossbeams above them.

“You’ve nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Except being in love with a man promised to another. One who will very likely start a war when he—” She stopped. The look of alarm on Sara’s face reminded her that her sister-in-law was also the Countess of Kenshire.

“What does he intend to do? Have you—”

“Nay, we have not,” she said, though not proudly. It was not exactly her doing that she was a virgin still. “And I don’t know exactly what he intends. Just that he asked me to wait for him. And for me not to encourage—”

“Graeme de Sowlis.”

Emma nodded.

Sara began to pace, just like her brother, fresh rushes crunching under her feet as she walked.

“If he breaks the betrothal, Magnus will be furious. And his uncle . . .” She stopped and looked at her.