Page 33 of A Scottish Highland Surprise

I was having difficulty imagining this man getting passionate about anything.

Xander North slid both hands either side of the worn leather case and lifted it up from the counter. The muscles tensed under his shirt as his attention swept the top of the case, before he carefully turned it upside down to inspect the bottom of it. “I have to confess I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“Do you have any idea what era it might have come from or who the artist might be?”

His eyes raked the peacock motif. “The use of the gold fleck detail became very popular in the late 1800s.”

“Yes, so Howard has already told me.” He flashed me a look from under his sooty lashed eyes, as if to say, So why waste my precious time by asking me then?

I watched him gaze dismissively around the painted shop walls in their pretty lavender and misty white. “If I’m correct and this set is this old, I really don’t think these surroundings are conducive.”

My irritation rose. Was he implying that the tea set was in unsafe hands with me? The bloody cheek of him! “Mr North, I have been keeping the tea set in a secure place at home. I have been very vigilant looking after it and that won’t change.”

He arched another brow. Good grief! Anyone would think I was selling top shelf magazines to men in dirty raincoats. That was it. He was supposed to be here to give advice, not judge me or my new business.

I reached out and seized the crockery case. “Excuse me, Mr North.”

His jaw dropped. “What do you think you are doing?”

“I’m looking after it,” I bit back. “I will speak to Howard on his return. There’s no great hurry.”

Irked, Xander North motioned to me to return the case now held in my arms. It was bloody heavy, but I wasn’t about to admit that to Mr Starchy here. I gritted my teeth for a moment longer under its weight, hoping the strain wasn’t showing in my expression, and set it down again on Mum’s spare table.

I was about to click the leather case shut, when something slid sideways out of what appeared to be a pocket secreted in the lid. It was a piece of paper.

As though it were in slow motion, it rocked like a feather in front of us and slid down to rest on the canvas sheets protecting the wooden floor.

I crouched down to retrieve it. It looked like a letter, in black, loopy handwriting.

“What is that?” asked Xander North.

He moved to read it over my shoulder but I snatched it away from his view. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

He frowned at me with disapproval. “It looks like a letter.”

“Yes. Well. I’m sure it’s nothing for us to concern ourselves with.”

I folded the letter carefully and slid it from view under the counter. I would have a read of whatever it was, once Laughing Boy here had left.

He had irked me with his preconceptions about Briar Glen and the dismissive way he had viewed my business.

I shot him another cold look. Pity Howard hadn’t been around to help me instead!

Chapter Sixteen

31st March 1900

Jonathan,

Why are you and your family treating me this way?

The lies and the fabrications are cruel. You cannot hide away forever from your guilty conscience. You must realise your behaviour, and that of your family towards me, has been abominable.

Though this is undeniably beautiful, I would never have done what you implied. Nor do I want or expect any treasures. All I want is for the truth to be known and acknowledged and for justice to be served.

You must realise it is inevitable that one day, the truth will prevail? You cannot escape from what has occurred and the implications for all concerned. Would you not consider my request for justice is therefore treated as a priority? Do you not understand what I have suffered?

I ask that you reconsider my plea and admit that I am not guilty of what I am accused of. You are only too aware of the guilty party and what I have been forced to confront.