Page 39 of The Laird’s Lost Wife

“I daresay you think I’m a silly old woman, adventuring at my age,” Lady Pilbury sighed.

“Certainly nae. I’m only happy to be here with ye. I… Willow, where is yer baby fox? Did ye lose it already?”

“His name is River,” Willow said firmly. “Lady Helena suggested it, and I think it fits well with me name. Elspeth took him away to give him a bath, in case of fleas.”

“Elspeth?”

“Ah, yes.” Lady Pilbury’s face lit up. “We’ve been assigned a maid to wait on us while we are here. Excellent hospitality. A very pleasant and pretty young woman by the name of Elspeth. She’s very knowledgeable about the castle’s history and the surrounding land. If my health permits it, she has promised me a tour.”

Daphne tilted her head. “A maid? But I am here for that, Lady Pilbury. I can take care of ye.”

Lady Pilbury patted her hand. “Why, of course you can! But since we have Elspeth, I thought that this could be an opportunity for you to take a little holiday. You work so hard, you know. I feel dreadful for how much I have put upon you over the past year or so. You need a little time to yourself, and I should like you to spend more time with Willow. Think of the adventures you could have! Leave this boring old woman to her own devices and go have fun.”

Willow shot upright. “Ye arenae a boring old woman, Lady Pilbury! Is she, Mama?”

“There ye have it,” Daphne chuckled, patting Lady Pilbury’s hand. “Ye shouldnae be so hard on yerself.”

“And ye should not work so hard,” Lady Pilbury chastised.

A tap sounded at the door before it inched open, revealing a tall woman with olive skin and a mass of curly dark blonde hair. She wore a shapeless gray maid’s dress, with a clean apron wrapped around it.

“Miss Willow, yer wee fox is crying. I think he misses ye.”

Willow scrambled off the bed. “I shall go to him at once!” she cried, sounding very business-like.

Daphne chuckled, catching Lady Pilbury’s eye and shaking her head.

Elspeth gave Daphne a mild smile and a nod of acknowledgement, then set off after Willow down the hallway.

Daphne moved forward, intending to go with her daughter, but Lady Pilbury cleared her throat.

“Stay a moment, won’t you, Daphne? I’d like to talk to you.”

Elspeth paused in the doorway, just for a moment, then vanished.

Daphne nodded wordlessly, moving over to close the door. She returned to the bedside, perching on the edge.

Lady Pilbury watched her for a moment, nibbling on her lower lip.

“You have always been honest with me,” she began. “Even when it was not to your benefit. I have always appreciated that in you, Daphne. Truthfulness is shockingly hard to find in the world these days. I understand you are previously acquainted with our host?”

Daphne swallowed. “Ye mean Lady Helena?” she asked, deliberately misunderstanding.

Lady Pilbury’s eyebrows arched. “I mean the brooding Laird. The master of the castle. I noticed his shock when he saw you when they first entered my room, and I noticed that he pulled you away for a conversation more than once. I daresay he thinks he is very good at hiding his feelings, but I am an old woman who has been around for many years, and men are not as careful as they think they are.”

“I… I daenae ken what ye are talking about.”

“Don’t you? I am talking about Laird MacCrimmon, the man whose face very strongly resembles Willow’s.”

Daphne closed her eyes and said nothing.

“She has the same eye color as you,” Lady Pilbury continued gently. “But the shape is all his. And of course there’s her hair, and her chin, and… well, I think I have enough evidence. Am I correct?”

Daphne let out a long, shaky breath. Opening her eyes, she met the woman’s stare.

“Aye,” she said simply. “Ye are correct.”

Lady Pilbury did not look surprised. She only nodded, chewing on her lower lip again.