Page 110 of The Laird’s Lost Wife

Before Daphne could reply, Lady Pilbury appeared, limping carefully along the paved path that led from the house.

“I do beg your forgiveness, ladies,” she breezed. “I am back.”

“Did I hear carriage wheels?” Mrs. Spencer asked, frowning. “Has somebody else arrived?”

“Don’t disturb yourself, my dear Mrs. Spencer. We will not be disturbed, I can promise you. I hope you were all comfortable out here while I was gone. I must confess, after my sojourn in Scotland, the air here seems so much warmer.”

“Yes, well, in a kingdom of ice, even an English winter would seem hot,” Lady Penn remarked, hiding a sly smile behind her teacup. “We were just wondering why Miss Tulloch did not remain in Scotland. Isn’t her family Scottish?”

“Indeed, it is,” Lady Pilbury responded comfortably, settling into her chair once more. “We were made most welcome.”

“Welcome? Surely not,” Lady Tollerhampton tittered. “I heard that they all live in great stone castles that are always cold and moldy.”

“You should know all about that,” Mrs. Spencer mumbled, loud enough to earn a glare from her sister.

Lady Penn cast a glance at Daphne, then leaned forward, whispering to Lady Pilbury, “My dear, I have some upsetting news to share with you. Only a rumor, of course—and you know I loathe gossip—but I simply had to bring it to you.”

“How intriguing,” Lady Pilbury responded brightly. “Although perhaps if you are uncertain of the rumor’s origins, then⁠—”

“It concerns your companion. Perhaps she ought to leave for a while.”

“Not necessary, my dear friend. Go on, please.”

Lady Penn glanced at Lady Tollerhampton, as if for support. “Well, you see, we have it on good authority that the child⁠—”

“Do you mean little Willow?” Lady Pilbury interrupted sweetly. There was a hint of anger in her gaze, which she leveled at Lady Penn.

Lady Penn seemed to notice, for she shifted in her seat and cleared her throat uncomfortably. “I mean that the child is not legitimate. We always suspected, but you know how these Scottish women can be. Loose morals are the least of⁠—”

“And where did you get that information?” Lady Pilbury asked placidly, taking a long sip of her tea.

In the background, Daphne dug her nails into her palms to keep quiet. She imagined throwing a cup of hot tea at Lady Penn’s head.

“I shan’t reveal my sources,” Lady Penn mumbled.

Perhaps there was something in Lady Pilbury’s unflinching stare that was making her think twice.

Lady Tollerhampton was not quite as clever. She leaned forward, plucking a biscuit from the plate of treats. “I have heard that midwives often show a little mercy to these poor illegitimate creatures,” she announced blithely. “It’s for the best, don’t you think? After all, what kind of life will the thing lead?”

“Thing?” Lady Pilbury echoed. Her smile hadn’t faltered, which was somehow even more unsettling. “Her name is Willow, my dear.”

“Willow. Well, we had to tell you. I’m sure you’ll be as shocked as we are. The girl ought to be let go at once. I’d suggest that the child be adopted into a good Christian household, but I daresay it’s already too late. She’ll be contaminated.”

“Contaminated,” Lady Pilbury mused thoughtfully. “What a strange word to use. I wonder if you’d consider your husband contaminated, Lady Tollerhampton, after consorting with all those opera girls? And you yourself and the footman. What was his name? Gordon, I believe?”

Mrs. Spencer choked on her tea.

Lady Tollerhampton went very pale. “I have no idea what you are…” she began, but Lady Pilbury simply turned to Lady Penn.

“And you. Didn’t your eldest daughter produce a bastard of some description? Do forgive my language, but I think it fits the tone of our conversation. Yes, it was Jane, was it not? I really cannot recall who the gentleman was. You did a decent job of hiding it, but the child went to a spinster aunt who has a tendency to gossip. I can find out, I’m sure. Shall I? Shall I find out?”

One might have heard a pin drop.

Daphne glanced from face to face, her jaw slack. Lady Tollerhampton had turned the color of a corpse. Lady Penn looked as though she were about to be sick.

Lady Pilbury sniffed and set her teacup back on the table. “Well, ladies, now we come to a sad fact of life. I’ve long thought that our paths were diverging, and now I am sure of it. I’m afraid I must ask you to leave immediately.”

The two women staggered to their feet, crimson and pale respectively, and hurtled off across the lawn without a backward glance. Mrs. Spencer blinked around her, as if not sure where her friends had gone, and rose unsteadily to her feet.