Page 39 of Ghost of the Ton

“It was her suggestion, Ma,” Hamish said. “Riverview Cottage would do for her.”

“It’s been empty for years!” Eilidh exclaimed. “Old Mrs. MacLennan died in the winter of 1806.”

“Then it’s time it was occupied again,” he said. “And it wasnae 1806. She’s only been dead two years.”

“It’ll not be fit to live in. It’s smaller than the lass deserves if she’s been used to London houses.”

“I grew up in a small home,” Mia said. “I just need a bed, a warm fire, and somewhere to treat the sick.”

“Treat the sick?” Iona said, a high pitch to her voice. Mia glanced at the girl, who colored and looked away.

“Riverview Cottage has four rooms, if I recall,” Eilidh said. “A bedroom, a kitchen, and two parlors.”

“That’s more than enough for me,” Mia replied.

“Ye must dine with us every night here,” Eilidh continued. “I’ll not have ye turned out as if ye didnae matter.”

“Why is she treating the sick, Ma?” Iona asked. “Nobody will want to go to her.”

Eilidh sighed. “She is in the room, and she has a name. Use it.”

“Do ye expect me to call her sister?”

“No, child,” Eilidh said, “but at the very least I expect ye to be civil.”

“But—”

“Iona, that’s enough!” Hamish said, slamming his spoon on the table. “I dinnae want to hear another word from ye. Get ye to the kitchens and tell Mrs. McBride I said ye were to clean the parritch pot.”

“I dinnae know why ye’re yelling at me, brother,” Iona said, rising, her eyes gleaming with moisture, cheeks dark red. “Ye hate her more than I do. Ye said as much!”

“Why ye…” Hamish rose, but Iona fled from the room, toppling her chair with a clatter. He glanced at Mia, then resumed his seat. “That girl needs taking in hand,” he said. “She’s always been wild, but these past two days…” He glanced up.

Mia’s cheeks warmed as he met her gaze.

“Perhaps I should make arrangements to move to the cottage today,” she said. “I’ve no wish to upset your sister further when she’s so unhappy.”

“Unhappy?” Hamish let out a snort. “She’s just spoiled and bad-tempered.”

“Och, Hamish, ye shouldn’t be so hard on the lass,” Eilidh said.

“Ye’re too soft on her, Ma,” Hamish said. “She was never this wild before. Perhaps she’s fooling around with some man—I’ve seen her wandering about at night, and there’s plenty of rutting boars hereabouts. That young Brodie, for one. He follows her around like a dog with his cock out.”

“Hamish!” Eilidh cried. “Brodie’s a good lad—too God-fearing to touch a lass. And ye shouldn’t be speaking of such matters in front of yer wife.”

He frowned, his eyes darkening, as if the very mention of their marriage enraged him.

“Lady MacLennan, I’m not your son’s wife,” Mia said. “Or, at least, I soon won’t be.”

“Is an annulment what ye want, lass?”

“Yes,” Mia said, and her heart gave a little cry of despair at the relief in Hamish’s eyes.

“Son?” Eilidh said, turning to him.

For a moment, he simply stared at his mother. Then he rose.

“Forgive me, Ma, I’ve duties to attend to.” He nodded toward Mia. “Do ye require my help moving yer belongings?”