John blinked up at her from the cradle and kicked once, as if agreeing with the insult, if not the target.
“Aye, thank ye,” she murmured. “At least one gentleman in this castle understands me.”
The nursery had become the only place in the castle where she knew exactly what to do. John needed warmth, clean cloth, sleep, and someone willing to admire every kick as though he had performed a feat of Highland bravery.
Violet could manage those things. She could manage cloths and lists. She could manage preparations for the christening. But she could not manage hearing “me Laird” in the corridor and turning as though Connor had returned before his horse could have crossed half the distance to MacAdair land.
A maid passed by the open nursery door and poked her head inside. “The Laird’s orders were sent to the yard, me Lady.”
Violet turned too fast. “Oh.”
The maid looked confused. “Me Lady?”
“Nothing.” Violet smoothed John’s blanket, then smoothed it again. “Thank ye.”
When the maid left, Violet lifted John into her arms.
“Yer uncle has made a nuisance of himself by absence alone. That is a rare talent.”
Moira entered with a small garment folded over her arm. “Are ye speaking ill of the Laird to the bairn?”
“I ameducatinghim.”
“Then I hope ye are using kind words.”
“Kindness isnae me prerogative. I am being accurate, though.”
Moira smiled and set the garment on the table near the window. The little gown for the christening had been washed, dried, and pressed with care. Beside it lay a soft cloth, a warmer blanket for after the ceremony, a small cap, and a strip of pale fabric Violet had chosen because Jane would have liked the softness of it.
“Has the priest been informed?” Violet asked.
“Aye, me Lady.”
“And what about John’s smaller cap?”
Moira paused. “The one ye asked about twice?”
Violet looked down at John. “He has a troublesome head. It invites concern.”
John made a small sound against her bodice.
Moira’s smile softened. “The christening willnae fail because one blanket is folded wrong, me Lady.”
“I wasnae worried about failure.”
Moira looked at the table, then at the cloth in Violet’s hand. It made Violet set it down.
“I was being thorough.”
“Aye,” Moira said gently. “Very thorough.”
Violet moved to the table and touched the pale fabric. “The chapel will be ready?”
“The basin is set aside. The candle is ready. The Laird instructed that the chapel and the passages leading to the nursery are to be watched.”
Of coursehe had. He did tell her he would double the shifts of the guards.
Violet adjusted the christening gown’s sleeve. “And Lachlan?”
