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The captain winked at Jeannie. “Of course we should.”
The lass responded with a giggle.
“It’s nothing, really,” Kathleen firmly said. “Just a little kerfuffle up at—”
“Lochnagar Manor,” Jeannie interrupted. “Someone broke into one of the outbuilding storerooms and made acompletemess of things. The servants are in an absolute uproar over it. Bags of flour and grain were ripped open and strewn everywhere. And some tools were stolen, too.”
David blanched. “That’s dreadful. And so soon after—”
Grant cut in. “Ladies, I think we’d best get back to the manor.”
He stood, offering a hand to Kathleen.
“But we just got here,” Jeannie protested. “And I wish to speak to Mr. Brown.”
“And I’m sure Mr. Brown wishes to speak to you,” the captain said. “After all, to have more robbery and vandalism so soon after the theft at the church? A shocking turn of events.”
“Another robbery?” yelped Jennie Robertson from the other table. “Where?”
“At Lochnagar Manor,” the captain unhelpfully supplied.
“I’m sure my brother has the situation under control,” Grant said.
“And I’msurewe’ll all be murdered in our bleedin’ beds,” Jennie angrily retorted. “If Sir Graeme canna protect his own house, what does that mean for the rest of us? We’re like sittin’ ducks.”
Just like that, the room erupted into the thing Highlanders did better than anyone—arguing. It quickly became aloudargument that involved much leaping up and waving of arms, as people tried to speak over one another.
The vicar also jumped to his feet, flapping his hands and looking a bit like a deranged raven. “Everyone, please stop yelling,” he yelled.
Naturally, no one complied.
Grant quickly helped Kathleen to her feet. “Time to go.”
She grimaced and urged Jeannie up.
“Sorry about this,” Kathleen said.
Grant steered them to the door through the growing commotion. “No worries, lass. Just another day in the Highlands.”
Chapter Seventeen
On the expansive front lawn of Lochnagar Manor, the men’s archery competition had entered the final round. Kathleen couldn’t help noting that betting on the outcome was brisk, albeit conducted somewhat surreptitiously.
Vicar Brown had obviously noticed, too, and was delivering a bit of a scold to Mr. Monroe for placing a bet.
Sabrina, standing next to Kathleen at the edge of the lawn, rolled her eyes. “I do wish our vicar could take the day off. What man doesn’t place a harmless bet now and again?”
“Or woman, as the case may be,” Kathleen said.
Sabrina threw her a laughing glance. “Did you really place one?”
“I had Angus do it for me before the tournament began.” Kathleen grinned. “Don’t want to shock the locals, you know.”
“I think your outfit shocked a few of the locals, though, especially poor David. He seemed quite disconcerted.”
Kathleen glanced down at herself. “What, this old thing?”
For the fete, Kathleen had chosen a hunter-green riding skirt trimmed in red braid. She’d paired it with a white cambric blouse and a leather jerkin specially made for her by a London tailor. It was perfect for casually knocking about in the outdoors and for a village fete like this.
