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Bathsheba tapped Felicity on her arm, drawing her attention. “Let me speak to John. He will think of something.”
Felicity visibly relaxed and gave her a nod.
“Good,” Bathsheba said. “Now that we’ve got that sorted—”
She paused when Samantha waggled a hand.
“I still need to speak with you,” Bathsheba continued in a firm tone.
Drat.So, therewasa specific reason for this early morning call.
Samantha glanced at her housekeeper. “Mrs. Johnson, I understand Cook is making pies this morning. I think Felicity would enjoy working with her.”
The older woman nodded. “Aye, my lady.”
Samantha caught her sister’s attention. “Can you help Cook with the pies?”
Felicity rolled her eyes again, but stood without further complaint. The girl enjoyed the precision and challenge of the baking process, as well as the delicious results.
After giving Bathsheba a quick hug, Felicity followed Mrs. Johnson to the door. Then she turned and signed to Samantha, both index fingers briefly touching her cheeks before she pulled her hands down to her chest and curled them into fists.
Watch out.
Samantha blinked, too startled to reply. By the time she collected herself, Felicity had closed the door.
Bathsheba cocked her head. “What did your sister just say to you?”
“Nothing worth repeating. At least in polite company.” Samantha forced a chuckle. “Goodness, where she picks up such language is beyond me.”
Bathsheba took a bite from a biscuit covered in thick, white icing. “Probably from your manservant,” she said around a mouthful. “I like Donny. He’s very colorful.”
“Almost as colorful as you.”
“May I point out that I have much better fashion sense than your manservant?”
Samantha let out a genuine laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I know.” Bathsheba put down her plate. “But it’s good to see you laugh. You seem out of sorts, lately. John and I have been worried about you.”
“So worried that you had to show up on my doorstep first thing in the morning?”
Bathsheba opened her eyes wide. “Can I not pop in and make a casual call on my dearest friend?”
“Not at this hour of the morning, at least not from anyone claiming to be fashionable.”
“Claiming to be fashionable? Darling, have you any idea how much this outfit cost?”
Samantha eyed Bathsheba’s stylish green walking gown, with its large gigot sleeves and silk pelerine that covered her shoulders. While her friend was the most down-to-earth woman she’d ever met, she was also the most stylish woman in Edinburgh and the envy of many a young matron.
“More than I can afford, I suspect,” she replied.
Bathsheba wrinkled her nose in apology. “Is Lord Beath still keeping you on a tight leash?”
“We’re fine, really. Roger made sure I would be sufficiently provided for in the event—”
She had to pause to clear her throat before she could continue. “But Roger could not have anticipated that his grandfather would refuse to provide for Felicity, at least not while she remains with me. As you know, Beath doesn’t approve of me, or of mycoddlingof the girl, as he calls it.”
Bathsheba made a disgusted noise. “I would like to slap that man. He’s the most mean-spirited poop I’ve ever met.”
