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“You told me nobility could be found in this area of Scotland,” Mother said, in that same tight tone of voice she had employed nearly constantly since their departure from London.

“I did not,” Father said, wearing the look of annoyance he had been employing for just as long. “I very clearly said the area had a laird.”

“How is that meant to impress me?” Mother demanded. “There are squires throughout England. A Scottish laird is hardly different.”

“You seem to forget the squires in various corners of England do have some influence. They are generally members of Society. And in this small and secluded area of Scotland, the local laird holds a great deal of significance.”

“Small, secluded area.” Mother shook her head, even as the description fell from her lips in tones of sorrow. “I understand needing to tighten our purse strings, but did we truly have to relocate so far from everything?”

“The house’s remote location is the reason we can afford the rent.” Father spoke through tightened teeth. “Everything available that was closer to London proved beyond our means.”

“The girls now have no Society, no prospects. And who am I meant to invite over for tea? The local milkmaids?”

Cordelia didn’t like to think that her mother was truly pompous, but there were moments, like this one, when she couldn’t entirely deny that Mother was a bit haughty. She also knew that Mother was lonely and grieving.

Upheaval brought out the worst in some people. She hoped as their time here stretched on, Mother’s grief would lessen, and her kindness would reemerge, though Cordelia harbored a great many doubts that Mother would ever forgive Father. Cordelia herself was struggling to do that. She did not know how he had managed to spend all their money, nor did she know for how long this difficulty had been looming on the horizon without him giving them so much as a whisper of it. Had they known the family funds were more meager than they’d once been, everyone could have done some additional economizing, which might have prevented this relocation.

“The laird is meant to call today,” Father said. “From him, we can learn what, in terms of society, we can expect in Teviotbrae.”

“I think you know perfectly well what we can expect. Nothing.” Mother crossed to the window, a look of absolute suffering on her face.

Cordelia alternated between frustration with her parents and pity for them. Neither was enduring the situation with any degree of decorum. She suspected Mother felt betrayed more than angry, and Father felt more embarrassed than indignant. Whatever their actual emotions, they were making their daughters miserable. Cordelia and Seraphina sat a bit apart from them, both bent over their needlework and, at least on Cordelia’s part, pretending not to hear all that was spoken around them.

The disagreement between Mother and Father might’ve continued and grown more pointed, but in that very moment, their newly installed butler, a local man by the name of McCrory, announced to the room, “Angus Coburn, Laird of Teviotbrae.”

Cordelia and Seraphina rose to greet the highest-ranking person in this “small and secluded area of Scotland.” The man was likely in his sixties. His ice-blue eyes took in the room and its occupants in one quick sweep. His bow was everything that was proper and dignified.

“How pleased we are to have you call,” Father said. “I have only just been telling my wife how very much she will enjoy coming to know you.”

Father made quick work of the introductions around the room. The laird declared himself pleased to meet them all. He did not speak with so obvious a tone of Scotland as the staff Father had hired since their arrival, but there was more than a hint of it there. Cordelia would wager the man had been educated either in England or by English tutors. But he had clearly lived a large portion of his life here. A place where one passed so much time could not help but leave a mark on a person.

Everyone was soon situated comfortably in the drawing room. Tea was called for. Mother was more calm and at ease in the role of hostess than she had been since their arrival in Teviotbrae.

“Other than yourself, laird,” Mother said, “I fear we have not made the acquaintance of any of our neighbors.”

“Other than myself, you haven’t any. Of course, there are a few merchants in the local village, and families surrounding it who have children who work at the castle or, now, here in your home. And there are plenty of families employed in working the land.”

“There is none but yourself with claim to the gentry or Society?” Father asked.

“None in Teviotbrae,” the laird answered. “But Teviot Castle has quite a reputation for being welcoming and comfortable for visitors. I have been known to host quite a few from that sphere. And we’ve a few fine families in neighboring areas.”

“I do hope many will come to visit,” Mother said. “And I do hope that when they do, you will let us know, so that we may call on them as well as ask them to do so here at Burnwick House.”

“Of course,” the laird said.

“In the meantime,” Mother said, “a few things in the house need addressing.”

“That is true,” Father said. “Updated furnishings and wallcoverings and such.”

“And I should very much like to see the grounds beautified,” Mother said.

“The family that lived here before you was, I fear, neglectful of the grounds.” The laird shook his head in slow disapproval. “I suspected you would find a great deal in need of attention. I have taken the liberty of asking Sebastian of the Home Farm to come have a look and offer his recommendations.”

Father appeared to ruffle up a little at that. “We are not looking to install a home farm. A kitchen garden, of course. But we wished most of the grounds to be ornamental.”

The laird, thankfully, didn’t look offended by Father’s near rejection of his generous offer. “I assure you, Sebastian is well-versed in both. He can help you determine whether you need a single groundskeeper or an entire team of gardeners.”

Regardless of what they were in need of, Cordelia knew they would not be hiring an entire team of anything. She and Seraphina were not merely sharing a lady’s maid—they were sharing Mother’s lady’s maid, sometimes waiting hours in the morning for her to be available to help them dress. The two sisters were far from helpless, but current fashions made dressing oneself nearly impossible. If Father could not afford to give such minimal consideration to his daughters, he certainly could not afford an enormous expenditure on the grounds.