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Sebastian thought on his unexpected encounter with Miss Wakefield over the next few days. She’d not been haughty nor dismissive as he’d expected her to be. That had, he fully realized, been unfair of him. Many of the ladies he’d known in London had been unkind and arrogant, but not all. To assume which group she belonged to before he even knew her was unlike him. He wanted to believe he was more honorable than that.

He arrived at the home farm, having been to the castle kitchen to deliver a couple baskets of vegetables. Miss Wakefield of all people stood outside his house, deep in animated conversation with Connall. Any hope Sebastian had of slipping past unnoticed disappeared the moment Shadow saw him and began bleating as if her very life depended on Sebastian noticing her there. What in the world had possessed him to take the creature in? Lambs belonged with their flock. But the flock had rejected this one.

Perhaps that was why he’d taken pity on the poor animal. Sebastian knew what a lonely thing it was to not really belong.

Connall and Miss Wakefield turned and spotted him. The lad motioned for her to follow him. “Miss Wakefield’s looking for something nice to paint,” he told Sebastian as he drew near. “I told her she might like the stream running behind the castle or the grand ol’ tree out along the road. Can you think of anyplace else she might go?”

Sebastian might have been surprised by the request, but Miss Wakefield had expressed a deep interest in sketching and art when last he’d seen her. “You’d likely enjoy painting Loch Tev.”

Connall offered a humorous slap of his hand against his forehead. “Loch Tev. Of course. Nae better sight than that.”

Miss Wakefield looked intrigued. “Is it terribly far away?” she asked. “Could I walk there, do you suppose?”

“Given enough time, and very precise directions,” Connall said.

“I could take you there in the pony cart.” Where the offer came from, Sebastian didn’t know. But he didn’t regret making it.

“Oh, would you?” Miss Wakefield smiled sweetly. London ladies, he’d discovered, were often practiced at such things, but there seemed to be real sincerity behind her expression.

He could take her to the loch, go for a brisk walk to clear his head. Actually, he’d be grateful for it.

“Give me a few minutes to hitch up the pony,” he said. “I’ll take you to the loch.”

Connall helped, which made the undertaking faster than it would have been otherwise.

“Best take Shadow,” Connall said once all was ready. “The poor soul’s been crying out for you ever since you left.”

“Put her in the cart.”

The lad first helped Miss Wakefield onto the bench of the farm cart, then handed her a small box, no doubt one filled with whatever supplies artists needed. Then the lad helped Shadow take her place in the back.

Not long ago, Sebastian had been relatively content on his own at the home farm. Now he had a lamb following him about and a fine lady sitting in the cart beside him, and he was utterly confused about it all.

Sebastian set the cart in motion, the pony not objecting at all.

They’d not been on their way for long when Miss Wakefield spoke. “Connall said you were at the castle.”

“I was,” Sebastian said. “I was delivering vegetables to the kitchens.”

“Oh.” She sounded disappointed.

“Home farmers don’t call on lairds,” he said. “My visits to the castle are never terribly impressive.”

“I hadn’t asked because I wished to be impressed. I had hoped you might have heard if the laird had plans for traveling to Edinburgh in the near future.”

An odd thing to be wondering about. “Are you particularly interested in Edinburgh?”

“Unfortunately, my parents are. They have made very vague plans to travel there with the laird to purchase a great many other things we haven’t the money for. I’m hoping the trip will be put off indefinitely.”

Things they hadn’t the money for. The Wakefields, then, were in some degree of monetary distress. That helped explain a few things.

“Are you hoping there will be money enough for you to return to London if they avoid Edinburgh?”

“I do miss London, but that is not my most immediate concern. I worry a little that this retrenchment will not prove sufficient to save us from utter ruin if they spend recklessly. I almost long for the days when I was utterly ignorant of how irresponsible they can be.”

It was an unexpectedly personal confession.

She seemed to realize as much. “Forgive me. That was far more than I’m certain you wished to hear. I am not usually one to confide in others. I find myself shocked at how easy you are to talk with.”