Ewan snorted. “Does it look like I care, lad? I’m well past explainin’ things tae the likes o’ ye.”
I sighed, sitting down heavily in the chair across from Elizabeth. “I don’t know how to explain this.”
She leaned back, crossing her arms. “Then don’t try. I’m already watching you argue with thin air—there’s no explanation that can make that seem reasonable. Let’s focus on what we can understand.”
I hesitated, then nodded. “Very well. According to him, I’m not needed for anything. No ‘injustices’ to set right, no unfinished business… we have argued before about it until I ran out of breath.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, flicking her gaze to the same space on the wall where I’d been looking at Ewan. “Ifyou’renot needed, Mr. Darcy, then why is he still here?”
Ewan’s grin widened, but it was tinged with something that looked almost... weary. “Ach, lass, that’s the real question, aye? Why am I still hangin’ aboot? Aye, a right honorable soldier I was. Did nothin’ tae deserve this, I’ll tell ye that.”
I glared at him. “Don’t play coy, Ewan. I’ve been over that list of names. Yours wasn’t there. You claimed it was your brother’s name put down instead of yours.”
Ewan’s expression faltered—just for a moment, but long enough for me to catch it.
“Eoughen McLean,” I pressed. “That was your excuse. You said he was your brother, and they got your names confused.”
Elizabeth sat up straighter, her eyes darting between me and the empty space near the wall. She couldn’t hear Ewan’s sideof the conversation, but she didn’t need to. She raised a hand. “Wait… brother? Mr. Darcy, you just told me that Isobel McLean only had the one brother. Are they…” She looked back and forth between me and the empty corner. “Are they brothers, or are they not?”
Egad, she was right. How had I blurted both those facts out without noticing how they contradicted each other? Perhaps I could blame it on my lack of sleep. I whirled on him. “Explain yourself. The lady is right—according to everything I’ve found about Isobel McLean, she didn’t have another brother, so how do you?”
Ewan’s smile faded, and for the first time since I’d met him, there was something like regret in his eyes. But he said nothing.
“Perhaps,” Elizabeth suggested, “a half-brother? Some… adoptive relationship?”
She couldn’t see Ewan’s face, but I could, and the guilt I read there… Indeed, that was precisely what I needed to see.
I leaned forward. “You lied.”
His posture sagged, his usual bravado nowhere to be found. “Aye. I’ve nae brither.”
Elizabeth’s brow furrowed, and she glanced at me. “Did he admit it? About what?”
I shook my head slowly, still staring at Ewan. “Everything, I imagine.”
Ewan sighed, scuffling his boots on the floor, and I caught the way Elizabeth gulped when a mud stain suddenly appeared on the stone.
“It wasnae supposed tae matter. Nothin’ was supposed tae matter. But here we are, aye?”
Elizabeth leaned forward, her eyes darting between me and the space where Ewan stood. “What is he saying?”
I dragged my gaze away from Ewan and met Elizabeth’s eyes. “He... he lied about his death.”
She tilted her head. “What?”
“Ewan McLean didn’t die at Culloden.” I leveled a long look at him. “Did you?”
He leaned heavily forward, one hand massaging the other as though his knuckles were sore. “Nae.”
“Let me guess. You ran. Deserted. You’ve been lying this whole time.”
Ewan’s face was pale—no, I’ve no idea how a ghost suddenly looked pale, or like he was struggling to breathe properly. But he did. He tugged the Balmoral off his head and slouched. “Aye, I ran. Slipped away the night before the fight. Left my clan behind. Bonny Prince Charlie... the lot of them.”
I glanced at Elizabeth and nodded to confirm his confession.
She blinked. “That… that is horrible. I mean… I can certainly understand. So many died, but… why lie about it?”
I stood, the frustration and confusion boiling over. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
