Page 113 of Ghost of the Ton

“What ails ye?”

“Nothing,” Mia said. “It’s you we should be concerned about.”

“Och, I’m well,” Maisie said. “But something ails ye. I can see it.”

“Nonsense.”

“Do ye think I’m a…” Maisie glanced toward Brodie, whose head lolled to one side as he slept, emitting tiny snores. “Do ye think I’m a whore for nothing? I can tell when a person is deep in thought—or deep in sorrow.” She folded her arms and tilted her head to one side. “Does it have something to do with why ye had that doctor address ye as Miss Lucas, not Lady MacLennan?”

When Mia didn’t respond, Maisie took her hand.

“Something’s happened, hasn’t it?” she said. “Ye were quiet on the journey here. Even young Brodie noticed it. Is it Master Hamish?”

Mia’s heart fluttered at the mention of his name.

“Aye.” Maisie nodded. “I knew it would be something to do with the master, seein’ as he didnae come to wave ye off. But I did see him.”

“Did you?” Mia asked.

Maisie gave a knowing smile. “Aye. At the window of his study, watching as ye climbed in. He continued to watch as we traveled along the drive, and when I looked out of the window before we turned the corner, he was still there.”

“Oh.”

Mia cursed herself. Was that all she could manage to say while feigning nonchalance?

“Ye’ve lain with him, haven’t ye?”

“Maisie!” Mia whispered, glancing at Brodie.

“Och, that lad will sleep through anything—if Glenblath castle were to crumble into dust, it wouldnae rouse him from a doze.”

Mia opened her mouth to deny it, then closed it again.

“I saw a fire in yer eyes two or three days before we left,” Maisie said, “but it was dulled by something else. As if…” She sighed, then shook her head.

“As if what?” Mia said, unable to conquer her curiosity.

“As if yer body had been awoken to pleasure and had found its home—but yer soul had been crushed.”

“Sweet heaven! How can you—”

Maisie patted Mia’s hand. “It’s the skills of my trade—understanding the needs and desires of men and women. I saw it in his eyes, also.”

“Saw what?”

“A physical need met, but a soul unsatisfied,” Maisie said. “Master Hamish is afraid. I’ve never seen him afraid before.”

“I doubt if a man such as Hamish has been afraid of anything,” Mia said.

“Och, not of toil, or disease, or an opponent stronger than he,” Maisie replied, “but of his heart. And the stronger the man, the more potent the fear.”

Mia shook her head. “There is no fear in his heart. He made that perfectly clear after we…” Her cheeks flared with heat. “It matters not. Both he and I have different paths to take to fulfil our dreams—mine of becoming a doctor, and his…” She hesitated, willing the tears pricking at her eyelids to remain confined. “His ambition is to secure himself a prettier, wealthier bride as soon as our marriage is annulled.”

“And is that what ye want?”

No! Mia’s soul cried out with yearning. I want to be loved.

She glanced at her friend—a friend to whom she owed absolute honesty. But an admission of her heart would unlock the floodgates of despair that she might never be able to stem once opened.