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“They should be helping,” he said. Then, shaking his head, Durwin apologized. “As I said, ’tis not my place. Pardon, my lady.”

With that, the squire left, but Hannah continued to watch the two maids. Not only were they not doing their jobs, but the two young ladies appeared to be teasing the cupbearer as he did the work of all three of them. Apparently mean girls were not a twenty-first-century phenomenon.

If it wasn’t Durwin’s place to intervene, it certainly wasn’t hers. But tolerating inefficiency had never been one of her strong suits. By the end of the meal, Hannah had had enough. She stood and made her way toward them.

Neither girl paid her any attention until she was practically standing on top of them.

“Good day,” she said through a forced smile.

Both girls presented a slight bow and mumbled a greeting. Hannah followed their gaze to the cupbearer.

“How lucky he is,” she said, watching him work, “to be singled out by the lord in such a way.”

Certainly the social structure she’d found here at Saxford was very different, but people were people. No matter when and where they came from. And one thing had not changed in hundreds of years. Some people would not work hard without added motivation.

“Singled out? I don’t understand,” the blonde one said, exchanging a wide-eyed look with her friend.

“My lord has noticed how hard he works and is planning something special to thank him for his efforts.”

What that something special might be . . . well, Tristan could figure it out.

“Good day,” she said, quitting while she was ahead.

One conversation would certainly not change their behavior for good. But it was a start.

She made her way from the hall toward the kitchen to compliment Cook on another fine meal. The man was certainly ornery, but she liked him despite it. Or maybe because of it.

Hannah stopped as two men on horseback rode toward the stable. Their demeanor was quite serious. Likely it had something to do with Sutherland’s decree. The man really did sound like the bastard Tristan had accused him of being. On the other hand, if the feud really had been going on for generations, he probably felt like there was no other path forward. Even in her time people confused aggression for leadership. In reality, there were so many different ways to be strong. Sometimes, her father had said, being strong meant compromising with others.

Hannah wasn’t the only one in her family to have won an award recognizing excellence in business—she had learned from the best. A flower shop in Maine, an event planning partnership in Boston, and a castle in Saxford. All had one thing in common. People.

People, she realized suddenly, who were at risk. Including herself. Hannah should be more scared, but instead she worried for her sisters.

She had to find them.

Nothing else matters. Not even him.

If she kept repeating the phrase to herself, perhaps it would become true.