Til’ All the Seas Gang Dry

By Josi S. Kilpack

CHAPTER ONE

Dina knew it was him. Not because the door leading from the house to the yard opened differently under his hand than it would someone else’s or because his boot step sounded different on the gravel path than another set of boots would. She knew it was him because the air around David Macarthur had always been different. At least for her.

“What comes after ten, Elizabeth?” She asked the three-year-old currently seated in her lap. She pointed to another clover blossom in the patch they were counting. Rebecca and Olivia were playing a bit farther down the lawn.

“Leven,” Elizabeth said with a confident nod, her feathery braids bouncing with the movement as David’s boot steps came closer.

“Aye,” Dina said, putting an arm around the girl’s slight shoulders and giving her a squeeze. “E-leven. Very good.”

She opened her mouth to prompt the next number in sequence, but the footsteps stopped a short distance behind them, and she breathed that David air all the way into her lungs. Held it.

Elizabeth turned her head to look up at the man who would be a stranger to her and immediately shrank into Dina. Dina kissed the top of Elizabeth’s head, “It’s all right, love. This is David Macarthur; he is yer mother’s cousin and a guest for th’ house party.”

Dina could not see if David reacted to her knowing it was him without having looked. She stood, hoisting Elizabeth on her hip as she turned to face him and grateful Mary had warned her he was coming so that she’d had time to prepare for this first encounter after so many years of wondering what it would be like. As her eyes traveled to meet his, she took in the Hessian boots, the tailored coat, the perfectly knotted cravat, and the shorter hair—he looked much more the English gentleman than he had six years ago. No more hair to his collar, tartan waistcoats and open shirts. Did he still have that lovely brogue? Did he still sing the auld songs sometimes, low and soft like the wind on the moors of a summer evening?

The rust-colored hair was the same. The slope of his nose. The deep set of his eyes and full lips that lit the room when he smiled and turned those green eyes up at the corners. The polite smile planted on those lovely lips right now wasn’t the same thing, and she hoped that she would see it full bright before this fortnight was through. Likely not directed toward her as it once had been, but she thought she could still find joy in seeing it bestowed elsewhere.

“Mr. Macarthur,” she said politely, dipping a slight curtsy that also allowed her to look at the ground a moment and shore up her reserves.

“Cullodina.”

She suppressed a shiver. No one called her by her full name, a name that hailed the battle of Culloden where Dina’s great-grandfather had fought the English army with a sharpened plowshare and unloaded bayonet. He’d lost an eye and both of his brothers but retained his fierce Scottish pride, which was handed to her grandfather, then her mother, and finally herself for safe keeping as the world he’d fought for wavered and faded into the world she now knew. She tried to pass what she could of that pride to her charges, the daughters of her cousin Mary. David was also Mary’s cousin, but on Mary’s father’s side and therefore no relation to Dina, though they’d been raised closer than many blood cousins were.

“’Twould be best if you would call me Miss Cameron.” 

David’s cheeks flushed slightly. “Miss Cameron,” he amended with a slight nod of apology. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

Is it? she wondered, keeping her eyes on his face in hopes of finding a clue as to what he thought of her these days, assuming he thought of her at all. She’d watched from a distance as his life unfurled the way it had been meant to with no expectation that he thought back at the dirty-kneed girl who had become a Scottish lass he’d prattled with for a few months’ time in London before she disappeared almost overnight. Did he know why she’d left? Was he angry with her?

“Th’ pleasure is all mine, I’m sure.” 

He cleared his throat, then glanced between Dina’s face and that of Elizabeth, who watched them cautiously. “Might I speak with you alone for a moment, Miss Cameron?”

She could still hear Scotland in his voice, but like it had with everything else, England had taken its majority with him. She mourned the changes as she bent to set Elizabeth on the ground. “Why don’t you pick eleven clovers we’ll then feed to Bruce.”

Elizabeth nodded, her eyes bright at the prospect of feeding the rabbit Mrs. Tyre kept behind the garden. As soon as Elizabeth crouched over the clover blossoms, David took a few steps away from the girl. Dina followed.

He looked at the ground a moment, then clasped his hands behind his back and raised his chin like a boy who had practiced his lesson a dozen times and was now ready for his recitation. “I do not wish to waste time on small talk. I only want to know the level of difficulty between us so that I might make this visit as comfortable for you as possible.”

Oh, bless him. “There is no difficulty.”

His eyebrows came together.

She smiled and spoke with calm measure, so different from the rambunctious girl and free-spirited young woman he’d once known. She’d grown up these last six years, become wise, and learned to control her reactions and expressions and words. “I have nothin’ against you, David, never have. Unless you have a trespass on my part to bring about, I consider all well between us.” She’d left a note—a single line explaining that she missed Scotland and did not foresee a return to London. All was true, she’d just not shared the whole truth.

He blinked. She kept her polite smile in place and counted slowly in her head so as not to be overcome by the emotion beginning to roil. David was here. Standing before her. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck and feel his arms around her.

He dropped his voice. “You left London so . . . suddenly. I have always feared that I offended you somehow.”

Aye, so he did not know the reason for her sudden departure, then. His mother’s words, however, still rang in her ears. Mrs. Macarthur, Mary’s aunt, had asked to speak with Dina alone following an afternoon tea at Mary’s to which Dina had been invited to attend. Dina had always gotten on with David’s mother and expected questions like, “How is your grandfather faring without you?” “Are you enjoying London?” “Does the position of nurse for Mary’s baby suit you, then?”

Instead, Mrs. Macarthur had explained her concerns for the growing connection between Dina and David in a very level and sincere way: When he is old enough to marry, David will marry an English bride so as to have the right English future. He has known this all his life. You have become a distraction and will be his ruin if you stay.

Dina had gone to her room after that, stared at the ceiling and repeated the words that reflected her own growing fears that what existed between her and David was more than either of them knew what to do with. More and more he was avoiding the society events in favor of an evening at Mary’s home. More and more it would be just the two of them by the end of those evenings. Affection had turned to intimacy, touching had turned to seeking, and desire for his company had become an ache for more. Her self-pity at being revealed a burden to David’s future had eventually moved aside enough for her to do the right thing.

The next morning, she had sent round a note to Mrs. Macarthur and asked that she help her return to Scotland. David’s mother hired a carriage and helped Mary understand without revealing the true reasons. She did not know how to tell you how very much she missed her homeland and her grandfather. I shall help you find a good English nurse to take her place.

Six years had passed. Two more daughters had blessed Mary’s marriage to her English husband. So much had changed, and yet the effect David had on her had not changed a wit.

David spoke, bringing her back to this patch of clover behind Mary’s country house. “You did not answer any of my letters.”

Dina hadn’t even read his letters, fearing that if she did she would go back to London. Back to him. Never mind the ruination of either of them. His letters—five written over the course of that first year she’d spent stewing in self-pity and regret—remained in the bottom of her trunk. All these years later she still didn’t trust herself to read them.

“What is done is done.” The flippancy would hurt him, and yet some hurts were better than others. “Congratulations on yer engagement, by the by. Mary says that Fiona Johansson is a lovely young woman and a good match—th’ right English bride. I wish you both happy. Beannachd Dia dhuit.”

“God be with me,” he translated, his expression softened by the blessing. “I have not heard Gaelic in ages.”

In London, speaking Gaelic between them had been part of building a secret world that could not be. Her once-fluent Gaelic was now relegated to sharing phrases here and there with Mary or teaching them to Mary’s daughters. It was a fledgling connection to their heritage, but it was something. Something was better than nothing. Mary’s children instead of her own. A fine house to live in that she had no claim on. Standing here with David even though he would never be hers.

His smile fell again, and a pleading entered his bright eyes. “What happened, Dina—I mean, Miss Cameron? Why did you leave as you did? I have waited six years to know the answer.”

“I was not ready to live outside of Scotland, and Grandfather needed me.”

He looked back at her skeptically.

“I knew if I told you what I was thinking you would want me to stay, even though what existed between us would only ever be folly. When I came to fully know it, I had to go and knew you would try to stop me if I confided. I am sorry if that confused you, but I have no regrets, David. Truly.” The shadow on his face settled into something else when she said his name, and she dug through the caverns of her usually quick mind for something that would bury the informality. The ambition was lost within the weight of his gaze.

“You are happy, then?” he asked with all the sincerity she remembered from their long evenings before a dying fire, then hungry kisses after Mary went off to bed. Was absolution what he wanted? Release from any responsibility he might claim for unhappiness on her part?

“I am happy.”

Rebecca and Olivia laughed from their place several feet away as they threw handfuls of grass into the air. Dina smiled at them before looking back at David, ready to end this conversation in which she had said enough without sharing too much.

His shoulders had relaxed slightly. “I have worried it would be awkward for you, having Fiona and I here.”

She shook her head. “I shall primarily be busy with th’ children. Aside from that, I have outgrown our childish fancy, as I’m sure you have.”

“Childish fancy,” he repeated.

“Surely you know that was all it ever was,” she said. “Two fish out of water finding wee comfort in sameness with one another. We both had so much growing to do, but we were getting ahead of ourselves.”

The image of this full-grown man before her, wizened and comfortable in his place, fell back to the memory of David at nineteen years old, vibrant, young, ignorant of the demands of this new society he had entered. He held himself in check now, careful and cautious.

“I had best return to Elizabeth,” Dina said with a polite nod. “Good to see you again, Mr. Macarthur. Good day.”

“Good day,” he repeated as she sat beside Elizabeth, who had picked far more than eleven clovers and arranged them in a straight, pink line across the grass.

“Let’s count them before we give them to Bruce,” Dina said, then pointed to the first clover on the left while David retreated. The air changed back to normal, and the tension that had been settling in her chest throughout their conversation eased.

She took a deep breath and complimented herself on her poise. The victory was a hollow one, but she’d not expected anything different. Sometimes the right thing was not the least painful one, and sometimes you took all the pain upon yourself to spare someone you cared about from having to feel it too.

CHAPTER TWO

The other guests of the house party would continue arriving over the next few days, but knowing David was already here put Dina on alert. The morning after he’d found her in the yard, she’d watched from the nursery window as the men went off to shoot. David’s dark red hair made him easy to track even from a distance. As children in Scotland, the three of them had only ever ridden bareback. It seemed that David had mastered the skill of saddle riding in the years since.

After dinner that evening, Dina brought the girls into the drawing room so that they could perform some Scottish folk songs she’d taught them. Mr. Jennings, Mary’s husband, was supportive of Mary’s desire to teach their daughters about her homeland, provided it did not interfere with their other education. During the performance, Dina felt David’s eyes on her several times, but she did not let herself look at him.

Once out of the room, Dina chased the girls up the stairs so that their giggles and squeals would push every other thought from her mind. Or, well, most of them. She had not managed to forget about David over the last years of separation, therefore it was foolish to think she would be able to push him from her thoughts now that he was under the same roof.

On Friday, the girls had their weekly riding lesson at the same time that Mr. Jennings took the gentlemen of the party on a tour of his stables—there were five men in the party now. Dina caught several glimpses of David as the group made their way through the outbuildings, but she did not think that David noticed her. She had heard Mary telling Mr. and Mrs. Donning that the last of the guests would arrive today, including Miss Johansson and her mother, Lady Clairmont.

Saturday afternoon, Dina and the girls joined Mary and the other women of the party for tea—Dina’s first time in Miss Johansson’s company. Dina’s attention was primarily focused on making sure the girls displayed their manners correctly in the presence of these fine ladies, but she unobtrusively studied Miss Johansson too. The woman who would become David’s wife in a few months’ time sat between Lady Clairmont and the odd Mrs. Donning on the other side of the ring of chairs and wore a beautiful pink dress with cream accents and four-inch lace at the end of each sleeve. Her dark hair reflected the light from the tall windows of Mary’s parlor, contrasting with the bright blue of her eyes. She was absolutely beautiful, and though it hurt to admit it, there was no denying that she and David would make a striking couple.

Mrs. Donning was droning on and on about this grievance and that one against a cousin and a neighbor and her lady’s maid. Miss Johansson made validating comments, even offered advice regarding the maid. Mrs. Donning did not acknowledge this, however, and it became clear to Dina near the same time it must have become clear to Miss Johansson that the old woman only wanted to complain. Miss Johansson drew back to sounds of sympathy at that point, and Dina admired her tact amid an uncomfortable conversation.

“And you, Miss Cameron,” Lady Clairmont asked several minutes into Dina’s silent presence at the table. “I understand you are a Scottish lass.” She smiled, and Dina smiled back, glad the woman had said it with kindness and not censure. “Where are you from?”

“Braemar, originally.”

“Not far from where David also grew up, I believe. Before he settled in England,” Miss Johansson said, turning her attention more directly toward Dina. “I understand the three of you have been friends from childhood.”

Mary looked between Mrs. Donning and the very pregnant Mrs. Havershorn, whose expressions showed confusion. “Dina is my cousin on my mother’s side,” Mary explained. “Whereas David is a cousin on my father’s side—both Scots. Dina often visited me in Aberdeen, and David’s father’s estate bordered our own, so there was a great deal of time spent together when we were young. I am a few years older than them both, however.”

No mention of London, which was just as well. Hiring poor relations to care for one’s children was a common enough practice, and Dina had seen going to London as a more grown-up version of her trips to Aberdeen before Mary’s marriage and David’s schooling had taken her playmates away from her. When David came to London a few weeks after Dina had arrived to help care for baby Rebecca, she’d known right away that things were different between them.

After she’d left London some months later and without notice, she’d taken a teaching position in Braemar and cared for her grandfather who had raised her after her parents’ deaths when she’d been young. After Grandfather passed, she’d quickly come to realize how little Scotland had to offer her. The men who showed her attention were either too hard or too uneducated or too much in need of a wife who baked bread and did laundry, not who read books and spoke their language with an English influence. She had become a woman without a place to call her own, so she had asked Mary if she might return as a governess for Mary’s three children. To Mary’s credit, she had never allowed Dina’s flight from London to change the love they shared for one another. Mary had accepted Dina’s request, and now, two years later, the arrangement continued to meet the needs of all parties. These thoughts passed through Dina’s mind in the space of a blink while Miss Johansson continued looking at her expectantly. “We caught a great many frogs in those days,” Dina said, summing up all the years of connection with one small part.

The women laughed. Miss Johansson smiled. “You should join us for the visit to the ruined abbey on Tuesday, Miss Cameron. David will be there. The two of you can reacquaint yourselves with one another.”

To Dina’s credit, she did not shift in her seat in response to the discomfort she felt. Mary, however, did. “I’m afraid I am a bit a tyrant, Miss Johansson. There are daily lessons Dina must attend to, and the girls, as delightful as they are, require a great deal of attention.”

Mary’s explanation could be interpreted as not wanting Dina to participate, but Dina had asked Mary to help her stay apart from the party. Were she a governess without relation to the family, she would not be included in a house party, and she preferred that position rather than that of a low-class woman putting on airs and vying for a place that was not hers. The exceptions to Dina’s wish for distance, of course, were moments such as these when the children were included. Mary had argued with her for a few days early on in the planning, then thrown up her hands in surrender. “I will never understand you, Dina. You make the oddest decisions sometimes.”

Like leaving London without notice. Like accepting herself as member of this family until a house party made her stake claim to the role of a governess.

“Of course, you would have responsibilities. My apologies,” Miss Johansson said, adequately sheepish. She paused, then pressed forward. “When is your half day, Miss Cameron?” She turned to look at Mary. “She has a half day each week, does she not?”

Mary seemed surprised, as was Dina, by Miss Johansson’s determination. “Oh, well, Dina has a full day on Mondays.”

Miss Johansson smiled wider and turned her sparkling blue eyes to Dina, who was busying herself with showing the girls the proper way to tap off the sugar spoon so that nothing spilled between the bowl and the cup. “Then we shall visit the abbey on Monday so that Miss Cameron can attend.”

She was a persistent one, Dina thought, trying to keep her irritation and anxiety reined in. “I appreciate th’ consideration, Miss Johansson, but I attend to my personal business during my day off. I thank you all the same.”

Miss Johansson did not give in and continued to suggest other ways that Dina could be included until Rebecca—who had been working so hard to behave like a proper lady throughout the tea—spilled her tea on both her dress and Dina’s. Dina gathered all three girls and made a hasty and apologetic retreat. When the door closed behind them, she took a deep breath of relief.

“My dress,” Rebecca whined, holding out the skirt of her dress that was now a patchy blue and brown. Rebecca’s disposition was always quick to tears, and her lower lip began to tremble.

“Dresses wash, mo chroi,” Dina assured her. Her own lavender day dress was not fancy, but the brown swath of tea down one side did no favors. She’d need to change and set both dresses to soak.

“I dinnint finish my sweet,” Elizabeth pouted.

“You had plenty,” Dina said, ushering them toward the stairs.

“There are my lovely girls!”

Dina looked up to see Mr. Jennings striding toward them. She smiled in greeting, but her eyes went immediately past him to David, positioned just behind Mr. Jennings’s left shoulder. The other male houseguests were there as well, but she only had eyes for David as the men came to a stop at the base of the wide staircase that led to the bedchambers—family on the right, Dina’s room included, and guests on the left.

“What’s happened, Beebee?” Mr. Jennings asked, bending to one knee in front of his oldest daughter but also glancing at Dina’s dress as well. The girls immediately crowded him, and Dina attempted to gather the spoiled section of her dress in one hand to hide it from additional notice.

“I spilled my tea all over everything,” Rebecca said with a tad more dramatic energy than she’d had prior to her father’s attention. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks, which Mr. Jennings wiped away with his thumb.

“I want more jam,” Elizabeth added.

Olivia, who was only two, blabbered something impossible to understand and climbed into her father’s arms. Dina forced her eyes away from David and moved to take Olivia, but Mr. Jennings shook his head at her, smiling with good humor.

“Gentlemen,” Mr. Jennings said, rising to his feet with Olivia in his arms and Rebecca and Elizabeth pressing against him from both sides. “Would you excuse me for a few minutes? I need to see my girls to the nursery.” He turned toward Dina. “Can you relieve me in, say, a quarter of an hour? Is that enough time?”

“Certainly,” Dina said with a grateful nod, embarrassed to have all this said in front of his guests, but appreciative of his help.

“We shall wait for you at the archery range, Jennings,” one of the men Dina did not know suggested.

“Excellent,” Mr. Jennings said as he turned toward the stairs. “Stop at the stables and tell Harold of our plans; he’ll bring the equipment.”

“I want to arch-hary,” Rebecca whined.

“Me too,” Elizabeth echoed.

“Not today, my dears,” Mr. Jennings said. He’d had child-sized bows and blunt-tipped arrows made for the girls last Christmas. Oliva was too young to do anything but throw the arrows by hand at the ground a foot in front of her, but all three girls loved going to the range with their father. Mary’s father, Uncle Albert, had been like that, doting on his only daughter and involving her as much as possible in the things he loved. He had always included Dina when she was visiting. Albert’s older brother, David’s father, had been a harder man. Dina had no memory of her own father, who had died when she younger than Oliva was now.

The men moved in the direction of the door that would release them to the yard while Mr. Jennings turned to the stairs, his daughters fastened to him like barnacles. “I shall play with them until you return,” Mr. Jennings said over his shoulder, then growled like a bear and made stomping noises on his way up the stairs, eliciting giggles and squeals from his audience of three.

Dina moved to follow them up but then stopped. The air had not thinned with the men’s departure, and she looked over her shoulder to see David still standing in the foyer.

Mr. Jennings continued up the stairs. Dina stayed where she was, as did David, until they were alone. Several feet apart, eyes only for each other.

A dozen things came to mind that Dina should say: “It is inappropriate for us to be alone.” “Why didn’t you go with the other men?” “I need to see to my dress.”

“I enjoyed meeting Miss Johansson at tea today. She seems like a good woman,” she said instead.

He nodded. “She is a good woman from a good family.”

“She was very kind toward Mrs. Donning.”

He nodded again but said nothing.

“I am happy for you, David.” He believed her, didn’t he?

“Yes, you have already told me that; Beannachd Dia dhuit.”

She smiled at his repetition of the blessing she’d pronounced at their first meeting.

He shifted his weight and looked side to side as though assuring they were unobserved before meeting her eye again. “I am unsettled about us, Cullodina.”

She should remind him to call her Miss Cameron. She didn’t. “I wish you were not unsettled.”

“As do I.” He took a step toward her and lowered his voice, which created a shiver upon her skin and tempted her to reach out and touch him. Feel the sandy texture of his chin, smooth the line between his eyebrows, run her fingers through his hair. “Why did you leave London so suddenly all those years ago? What happened?”

She was standing at the base of the stairs and could take a step up if she wanted to preserve a more comfortable distance between them. In London she had once done exactly that when he had walked her to the base of the stairs at the end of the night. Mary had remained in the parlor with a few friends who did not seem inclined to leave any time soon. On that night, she had taken that first step on the stairs, realized they were eye level, and leaned forward to kiss him without having to go onto her toes as she usually did. It had not been their first kiss, but it was the first time she’d taken the lead. He had liked her boldness, and her going up one stair had become a pattern they’d repeated whenever the chance arose.

She dared not risk him remembering and therefore kept the smaller-than-appropriate space between them instead and clasped her hands behind her back to prevent her giving in to temptation. “It is as I’ve told you, I realized that I had not been ready to leave Scotland after all.”

“Overnight?”

“It had been on my mind awhile and then became impossible to ignore.”

His furrowed brow said that he did not fully believe her.

“We were nineteen years old,” she explained further, though he knew all of this too. If he hadn’t known they were too young back then, he’d have realized it later. “You had schooling left to complete and holdings to learn to manage and . . .” Did she dare say more? Would additional details help him or hurt him? Perhaps that was not her decision to make and she should trust him to make sense of what she could offer. “And since I could never have become your wife, what did that leave fer me besides ruin and heartbreak?”

His eyebrows made the slightest jump together, and his eyes narrowed. He held her with the look, and she sensed he wanted to say more, but then his expression settled to neutral. “I see.”

They held each other’s eyes a few moments longer, then he bowed slightly. “I should rejoin the party. Good day, Miss Cameron.”

It became her turn to feel unsettled. She reviewed their conversation as she changed out of her dress and petticoat, which had also fallen victim to Rebecca’s tea. Had she misspoken? She reviewed her words again and determined that she had not. Everything she said had been true, yet how could he not be offended? He’d never taken advantage of her. She’d been willing, even eager, but her words just now had implied that she put the responsibility of their actions on him. She’d all but said that she believed he would ruin her and carry on with his life. Her cheeks heated and her eyes filled to know she’d hurt him with those words, but maybe that was for the best too. As she’d told herself a hundred times before, a wee bit of pain now was better than a wash of it later.

Movement in the yard caught her eye as she crossed the window on her way to the wardrobe for a fresh dress. The rudimentary archery range was on the west side, out of view from her bedchamber window, but the area of the garden she and the children frequented was directly below. A man and a woman were walking quickly toward the tree line of the woods hand in hand. She stepped back in case they were to look up and see her dressed in only her shift and stays, but once she realized they were only intent on their destination, her curiosity got the better of her and she stepped closer to the glass. She recognized Miss Johansson by her dark hair and the pale pink dress she had been wearing at tea, and her throat became thick with the weight of witnessing what was likely the beginnings of a tryst in the thick woods beyond the yard. She was quite content to believe that Miss Johansson and David did not share the touches and affection she and David had once shared.

Only . . . she leaned in closer. The man pulling Miss Johansson into the cover of the woods had brown hair, not David’s tell-tale red.

CHAPTER THREE

I cannot be sure what I saw . . . although I’m pretty certain.

It is none of my affair . . . except that I care very much about David’s happiness, and this would affect his happiness a great deal.

Perhaps there is a perfectly chaste and reasonable explanation for sneaking into the woods alone with a man who is not your fiancé.

This is ridiculous!

Dina told herself these things and many others throughout the afternoon, and when Mary asked Dina to bring the girls for another performance that evening, Dina went with the purpose of determining the identity of the brown-haired man Miss Johansson had slipped into the woods with. As much as she wanted to give the benefit of the doubt to both parties, she did not think the couple had gone into the woods to gather sticks and leaves for building fairy houses.

Dina led the girls to the hearth, arranged them with Olivia in the middle so that her older sisters would keep her in place, and then moved to the side. She’d trained Rebecca to take the lead for performances, and the little girls followed within two notes. Their sweet voices rose with confidence and melody as they sang “The Bonnie Banks o’ Loch Lomond,” anchoring the attention of the adults enough that Dina could survey the room unnoticed.

The women were of no consequence to her investigation, and she passed over them quickly until a face she had not seen thus far in the party caught her attention. David’s mother, Mrs. Macarthur, gave her a tight smile, and Dina inclined her head in greeting. Dina had taken Mrs. Macarthur’s concerns to heart six years ago and still did not regret the choice she’d made back then. In the years since then, however, Dina had come to recognize the unfairness of Mrs. Macarthur deeming Dina responsible for David’s affection. Her exchanges with David these last few days made clear that it was only Dina who had been on the receiving end of Mrs. Macarthur’s concern. That was not fair either.

Dina’s grandfather, Mary’s too, had raised Dina after her mother died when she was five. Dina had loved him, and in his way she knew he had loved her too, but he had been a gruff man and she had always felt like a burden. Mary’s mother, Dina’s aunt Aileen, had often opened her home to her orphaned niece for periods of time, but her constant attempts to improve different aspects of Dina left Dina feeling like a disappointment. Mrs. Macarthur’s worry for her son’s future should Dina continue to monopolize his attention had brought back those same feelings. It was not wanting to be a negative in David’s life, as she so often felt she had been in the lives of others, that had driven her from London, and she could not help but wonder if Mrs. Macarthur had known that was how Dina would react.

Mrs. Macarthur turned her attention back to the performance, and in an attempt to spare herself the further discomfort of lingering her thoughts on David’s mother, Dina recommitted herself to her goal of identifying the man Miss Johansson had stolen into the woods with that afternoon.

There were six men in attendance at the house party, but she could cross Mr. Jennings, David, and the white-haired Mr. Donning from her list of possibilities. That left three men with differing shades of brown hair to be considered. One was Mr. Havershorn, whose wife seated beside him was expecting their first child. It seemed a stretch to consider that he would act upon a tryst at a party where his pregnant wife was in residence. But Dina knew enough about human nature to know not to dismiss him completely. She did not know the name of the other two men and wished she’d been able to make out more of the man’s features from the window. He had been wearing a gray coat this afternoon, but all the men were in evening dress tonight, so that was no clue.

The first of the two men was tall, with a narrow face, lighter hair, and an attentive expression for the performance. The last man of scrutiny was thicker in the middle than the man in the window had been, but, again, how trustworthy was her observation of only a few seconds? The idea that any of these men would sneak away in the middle of the day to meet up with a woman was astounding to consider, and yet she’d have done as much for David. Had, to a lesser degree, more than once. She had not been engaged to another man, however, or at the house party being thrown by that man’s cousin to celebrate the engagement. That the man Miss Johansson was engaged to was David took Dina’s investment to another level. She had accepted long ago that David would fall in love with another woman, but the idea that she would not cleave to him and no other was a consideration Dina wished she was not entertaining now.

Dina took another look at the three possible suspects and saw the man with the lighter hair glance toward Miss Johansson, whose attention was fixed on the girls. Dina looked back and forth between them, waiting for Miss Johansson to return the look or for this man to glance at her again.

The girls finished the song before either action occurred, ending Dina’s opportunity. She joined in with the applause a moment after everyone else had begun and forced a bigger smile than she felt before moving forward to assist the girls with goodnights to their parents and parents’ guests before shepherding them back upstairs.

***

Mary came up at nine o’clock to kiss the girls goodnight, as she did most nights, and Dina followed her from the room.

“How does the party seem to be progressing?” Dina asked. “Are you pleased?” Mary had not thrown a house party since before Olivia was born and had been anxious about this one during the weeks of planning that had proceeded it. Dina had talked through several of the details over tea every afternoon as the plans had come together—she missed their daily tea time and looked forward to the routine again after the party was finished.

Mary smiled widely and put a hand on Dina’s arm. “I’ve forgotten how very invigorating it is to share so many stories and opinions with friends and family.”

“Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves,” Dina commented, nearly choking on the words when she remembered how Miss Johansson was spending her time. “When did David’s mother arrive?”

“Wasn’t it a lovely surprise?” Mary said. “I had invited her, of course, but she’d said she had another engagement, then had a rather abrupt change of plans. Have you had a chance to visit with her? She seemed eager to hear of your situation here. I had assumed she knew you were here, but apparently she did not until recently.”

Is that why she came? Dina wondered. Had she learned of Dina’s employment as Mary’s governess and changed her plans so that she might mitigate Dina and David in such close company? The possibility made Dina feel small and deceptive, even though she’d had no hand in any of this. Mary had never noticed Dina and David’s connection in London, too distracted by her new baby and social obligations at the time to pay attention to what took place only when they were alone. She seemed to have interpreted their distance now as circumstance more than disregard or avoidance, and Dina had allowed that perception to take hold. During their discussions about the house party over tea, Mary had mentioned inviting David’s mother and Dina had said that of course she should—Mrs. Macarthur was Mary’s aunt, after all—and she had accepted that she would need to manage the potential awkwardness. When Mrs. Macarthur said she was unable to attend, Dina had been relieved and able to focus her worry only on seeing David again. Things had become so complicated so quickly.

“I look forward to becoming reacquainted with Mrs. Macarthur,” Dina said. It was a lie, but Dina wished it were true and therefore did not feel as bad about having said it as she might otherwise. “Have all th’ guests arrived, then?”

“Mrs. Macarthur and Mr. Littlefield were the last, having arrived this afternoon in a shared carriage.”

“Mr. Littlefield must be one of the two men at tonight’s entertainment who I do not know. I believe I have met everyone else.”

Mary stopped, turning toward her cousin with lifted brows. “Would you like to be introduced? I would be thrilled to include you, Dina.”

Dina laughed off the suggestion that made her stomach wring itself out like a dishrag. “I am only curious as to their names and connection to you. I have no desire to be included—I’ve told you that more than once.”

“I know, I know, but—”

“I know Mr. Donning is Mr. Jennings’s uncle,” she interrupted, staving a repeat of Mary’s wish that Dina would participate with the group. “And Mr. Havershorn is a friend of Mr. Jennings’s from school, but what of the other two men?”

“Mr. Littlefield and Mr. Dewberry are both friends of David. I believe David and Mr. Littlefield were at Eton together, and Mr. Dewberry is an acquaintance he made more recently through business of some kind. David suggested them when I told him I was looking for a few more men to make up the numbers.”

“Which man is which?” Dina asked as they began walking again. If Mr. Dewberry were a more recent friend, he could have less loyalty to David.

They were almost to the top of the stairs, which meant Dina had to hurry up this answer that was already too long in coming. “One was a bit portlier than the other.” It was the most distinguishing feature she could think of.

“That is Mr. Dewberry,” Mary said with a nod. “Very jovial man and has an excellent singing voice. I wish you had stayed to hear him perform last night. He stood up after you and the girls departed.”

“So Mr. Littlefield is the taller man, with the lighter hair.” The one who had glanced at Miss Johansson during Dina’s inspection and better fit Dina’s memory of the man she’d seen from the nursery window.

“Yes,” Mary confirmed.

“He and David have been friends for a long time?”

“Nearly ten years, I think. He is from Norfolk; David used to stay with his family during school breaks from time to time.”

Having received the information she needed, Dina slowed her steps, and Mary followed suit. They were nearly to the top of the stairs. “Did Mr. Littlefield know Miss Johansson before this party?”

“I think so,” Mary said. “They seemed familiar with one another when all of us had luncheon, just after Mr. Littlefield arrived. He’s quite handsome, don’t you think?”

“I had not noticed,” Dina said. Mr. Littlefield was not more handsome than David.

Mary put her hand on Dina’s arm as they came to a stop at the top of the stairs. “Are you sure you would not like to come down? Lydia can look in on the girls.” Mary cocked her head to the side and gave Dina a hopeful look.

Dina took a step back toward the nursery. “No, thank you. Have a lovely evening, Mary. I will see you in the morning for church.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Upon arrival at church the next day, Dina stayed apart from the party guests by greeting parish friends only to realize that by the time everyone was seated, she was directly behind Miss Johansson and David. The girls had stayed back with Lydia, and Dina wished they were here so that she had something to distract her from thinking only about David, his future bride, and Mr. Littlefield.

Mr. Littlefield had chosen to go riding with Mr. Dewberry and Mr. Jennings instead of attend services, which Mary had not been happy about but accepted with a tight smile and slight scowl toward her husband, who was always finding excuses not to attend church. Dina listened with half an ear to the vicar’s sermon on patience while trying not to watch David and Miss Johansson too closely. How had they met? How deep was their connection to one another? How did Miss Johansson justify her choice to entertain another man? What was Mr. Littlefield’s situation in life?

At one point, David turned his head and leaned toward Miss Johansson to whisper something in her ear. Pure jealousy clutched Dina’s heart, and she felt the oddest temptation to jump to her feet and shout, “Fire!” in an attempt to draw them apart. The temptation faded, but the anger remained. How dare Miss Johansson treat David’s love with such flippancy? If Dina were in her place . . . her thoughts paused, and she stared over the vicar’s head as dangerous thoughts slipped into her mind.

David was not an uneducated nineteen-year-old boy trying to find his place in England any longer. He was twenty-five, a man of the world, and, obviously, established enough to marry. He’d completed his education and come into his inheritance of the land that secured his place in English society. Dina was not English, and she could not give him the connections that were important—but were those things as important now as they had been when he was a fledgling in this English world? Were connections through marriage more important than fidelity? Trust? If David knew what was happening between Miss Johansson and Mr. Littlefield, would he not rethink his choice of bride? If he did reconsider his marriage to Miss Johansson, would Dina come to his thoughts at all? Would he consider Dina if Miss Johansson were no longer a prospect?

The thoughts burned like venom and she felt like an absolute heathen. Not only to have these thoughts, but to have them in church. What wickedness had possessed her?

Dina could not see Miss Johansson’s reaction to David’s whispering aside from a slight nod. The envy continued to burn. There had been an afternoon back in London when Dina had been standing with her back to a stand of shrubs at a small garden party Mary had thrown to celebrate Rebecca’s christening. Dina had mostly been on hand to care for the baby, but everyone seemed intent on taking a turn to hold and coo at the infant, so Dina had kept to the edges of conversation so that she was on hand but not in the way. She had nearly jumped out of her skin when David’s voice had suddenly sounded in her ear. “Meet me at the crossed hedges in five minutes.” As quick as he’d been somewhere in the shrubs behind her, he was gone. But five minutes later she’d found him waiting for her at the place where three different hedgerows met up, creating a concealed space, and . . .

David pulled back from Miss Johansson’s ear and saw Dina watching them. Dina quickly looked at her gloved hands in her lap, and a moment later he was facing forward once more. She had not made a decision of what to do about her suspicions and used the opportunity of being in church to send up a prayer for help in making sense of what was happening while hoping her wicked thoughts would not prevent her ability to know God’s grace on this topic. She felt better after the prayer, a bit more confident that she would know what to do when the right time to do it came about. She also succeeded in pushing away the idea that there was a potential future for David and herself if Miss Johansson were no longer on the stage. His situation was different than it had been six years ago, but she was still a penniless Scotswoman with nothing to offer an accomplished man like David. She could not let fantasy cloud her judgement and still wanted the best for David. She was not the best for him, and she needed to remember that.

When services finished, Dina hurried to leave the church without appearing to hurry, sharing nods and quick hellos with friends and neighbors rather than longer greetings. She especially did not want to get stuck in conversation with any of the house guests. Once out of the building and down the steps, she told Mary she would walk home.

Wind whipped at the ribbons of women’s bonnets and the sides of men’s coats, leaving the congregation grasping at their wayward clothing while stubbornly going through the traditional after-service chatter, and Mary cast a concerned look at the gray sky overhead. It would surely rain sometime today, which is why they had brought the covered carriages rather than walking the easy mile as they usually did. Dina would prefer to be caught in a downpour over being forced into the close quarters of a carriage right now with so many people who made her uncomfortable. She needed time alone to think things through.

“Are you certain that is a good idea?” Mary asked.

Dina kept a smile in place. “I feel quite restless after sitting on that unyielding pew and feel sure I can beat th’ rain.” She did not wait for further argument and began taking quick steps toward the house. Depending on how long everyone chatted and shared introductions, she might very well arrive home first, which meant she could hide in the nursery for the rest of the day.

She was some distance past the church yard when she heard someone behind her call her name.

She turned, holding her bonnet in place so that the wind would not pluck it off her head, pins and all, and felt her chest tighten to see Miss Johansson hurrying to catch up with her. The wind pressed her skirts against her legs, the hem flapping like a tail behind her as she moved forward. Dina looked past her to see who else might be with her, but Miss Johansson seemed to be alone.

“You are an exceptionally fast walker,” Miss Johansson said between gasping breaths when she reached Dina. She adjusted the ringlets on either side of her face that had gone askew without dropping the smile Dina no longer trusted. “I’ve been trying to catch up almost from the first steps you took away from the church.” She tried to catch her breath.

“My apologies,” Dina said politely, still holding her bonnet. It was getting colder as the storm moved in. “Can I help you with something, Miss Johansson?”

Miss Johansson laughed a perfectly bubbly laugh that the wind took and swirled around them both. “You can help by escorting me back to the house,” she said and hooked her arm through Dina’s before taking a step and pulling Dina along beside her. “I love a good walk, don’t you, Miss Cameron?”

“Um, certainly.” Mostly she enjoyed walking alone. She cast a sideways look at this woman and burned at the idea that those lips had kissed David’s lips. And Mr. Littlefield’s too.

“It is my favorite aspect of being in the country,” Miss Johansson said as though she and Dina were close friends. “Long walks through beautiful landscapes. I’ve never been to this part of the country; however, it is lovely here.”

She continued to prattle on for several minutes, and Dina agreed with her opinions when she stopped long enough to invite a response. Dina held herself tightly, hating that she’d lost the time she needed to think of what to do next and feeling disappointed in herself for finding this woman so agreeable when she was so determined not to like her.

“Where are you from, Miss Johansson?” she asked during one of the young woman’s pauses. She might as well gain something from this interaction, and she did want to know more about this woman. How did she know Mr. Littlefield, for example?

“Sussex,” she said. “Papa’s principal holding is near Amberley.”

Principal. That meant that her family owned multiple estates. “I hear that is also a beautiful part of the country.”

“Have you never been?” Miss Johansson asked.

Dina shook her head.

“I suppose it is quite a distance south of here,” Miss Johansson commiserated. A gust of wind pushed the brims of both their bonnets back over their heads, and Miss Johansson had to release Dina’s arm in order to hold it in place. They had both only recovered from the assault when Miss Johansson spoke again. “Have you traveled to other parts of England? I understand you have been with the Jennings for two years now.”

“I went to Southport with the Jennings last summer.”

“Is that the only place you have visited?”

Dina bristled slightly at the pity in Miss Johansson’s voice.

“And London,” Dina said almost defensively. “Several years ago.”

“Really? And did you enjoy London?”

“It had its charms,” Dina said, thinking only of David, though she had enjoyed the parks and shopping too. It had all seemed so modern and sharp compared to Braemar, just an ordinary Scottish village with rough-built structures of necessity and dirt streets. There were no ribbon shops or cobbled pathways in Braemar.

Miss Johansson laughed, and even though Dina felt tense, she could not hear anything but sincerity in the woman’s tone. As though it was truly interesting to her to hear about Dina’s limited life experience. But why would Miss Johansson be interested in a governess of no consequence? The carriages leaving the church began to rattle past them, and they were forced to move farther to the side of the road, walking on the matted grasses rather than the hard-packed earth of the road.

“I do not mind London, though I would not like to live there year-round,” Miss Johansson mused. “We keep a house in Town, so I was quite familiar with the city when I had my first season. What took you to London?”

“I served as a nurse to Rebecca for a few months after she was born. Then returned to Braemar to care for my grandfather and teach at a girls’ school there.”

“And did you enjoy teaching?”

“I enjoyed the students.” She kept to herself that she’d been teaching farmer’s children in a dirt-floored schoolroom. An English woman like Miss Johansson would find that shocking and primitive.

“You seem to enjoy working with Mary’s children very much.”

“Indeed,” Dina said, unable to resist the softening that always occurred when she thought of her charges.

“They are delightful girls,” Miss Johansson said. “Well-mannered and pretty too. You have done well by them.”

“Thank you.”

“I am curious,” Miss Johansson said as they reached the drive that led to the Jennings’s house and took hold of Dina’s arm again. “Did you see David at all during your time in London? I know you had been playmates as children, but did you renew your acquaintance when you both found yourself in Town?”

Dina felt a crackling in her chest as the suspicion she’d almost forgotten came back with a punch. She’d meant to get information about Miss Johansson and had somehow become the one facing the questions. She tried to debate her options in regard to formulating an answer but realized that Miss Johansson likely would not have asked if she did not already know the answer. Why she cared about whether David and Dina had reconnected in London made Dina wary. She kept her voice even as she answered. “He came by the house some.”

“And you continued the friendship you had from childhood?”

“As much as possible despite our differing circumstances.”

“Hmmmm.” Miss Johansson seemed to be thinking a great deal on this limited information.

They walked in silence for several steps as the house came into view around a bend in the drive. The trees on either side kept the wind in check, but Dina felt the first ping of rain on the back of her neck. “Ah, well, we have arrived safely and before the carriage.”

Miss Johansson looked over her shoulder as though to check for the carriage, then faced forward, a satisfied smile on her face. “David had been certain I could not walk faster than the carriage could drive; he owes me two shillings.”

Miss Johansson stopped walking, pulling Dina to a stop without releasing Dina’s arm. She turned to face her.

“David looks at you, you know,” Miss Johansson said, her focus intent on Dina, though her smile remained cheery and casual.

Dina felt a flush she could not control bloom in her chest and was glad she had a high collar on her dress. She could not think of any response.

“He is very attentive to you when you are in his company,” Miss Johansson continued.

Dina’s mouth was dry as she formulated an answer. “I think I remind him of Scotland, and perhaps happy times when his father was alive and he had such freedom.”

“He has freedom now,” Miss Johansson said, cocking her head to the side as she continued to watch Dina’s face. “He can make any choice he likes, you know.”

Rather than dance away from the implication, Dina caught it and held it tight. “I’m not sure what you might be implying, Miss Johansson, but I can assure you that David and I, though once close, are merely acquaintances with a shared cousin now. I have not seen him in six years, have not corresponded with him, and pose you no threat.” The words sounded so much harsher said out loud, but she kept her chin up and her gaze focused, intent to nip whatever concern Miss Johansson had in the bud, though she had little grounds to be jealous with her own secrets still hidden away.

Miss Johansson continued to look at Dina a few seconds longer, then began walking toward the house again, pulling Dina with her. “I really do wish you would come with us tomorrow, Miss Cameron. We are going to visit the abbey and take a picnic. I know you said you have a good deal of personal business to manage on your day off, but could you not spare a few hours? We need more young people to balance out all the more . . . seasoned guests.” She wrinkled her nose at the last.

Dina shook her head. The idea of watching David and Miss Johansson together for hours felt as inviting as chewing walnut shells, especially after this odd attention Miss Johansson was giving her. But . . . Mr. Littlefield would be there too, which meant she would have the chance to observe him and Miss Johansson. “Is the entire party going?” she asked.

“My mother is not”—she glanced toward the sky—“and Mr. and Mrs. Havershorn as well as Mr. and Mrs. Donner will be staying behind to play bridge. Everyone one else will be there, however.”

That meant Mrs. Macarthur, who Dina wished to avoid if possible, would also be present.

“They’ve already ordered both carriages to be readied, so there’s an extra seat.” Miss Johansson made a pouting face that somehow made her more beautiful. She squeezed Dina’s arm. “Please come, Miss Cameron. It will be so much fun.”

Dina doubted it would be any fun at all, but it could be an up-close view of the three players in the puzzle she wanted to solve. Needed to solve so that she could think about something—anything—else. What kind of friend would she be if she ignored this chance to shore up her investment in David’s happiness that she had already endured such pain to ensure?

Rain began to create darkening spots on her pelisse while Miss Johansson continued to look at her with her heart-shaped face full of expectant hope. This was very confusing—her feelings for David, Miss Johansson’s feelings for Mr. Littlefield, David’s feelings for Miss Johansson. But time with all of them was likely the best opportunity available to help her sort it all out.

“I suppose I could—”

Her words were cut off by a fierce embrace from Miss Johansson. She pulled back almost immediately, hands on Dina’s shoulders and eyes bright. “Excellent. Tomorrow, then. Be ready by eleven, straight up.”

CHAPTER FIVE

For Monday’s excursion to the abbey, Dina traded the usual plaiting of her red curls into a knot at the base of her head for a chignon, which softened her face and made her feel less of a governess and more of Mary’s cousin. She chose one of her nicer day dresses, and although the pale green muslin was out of fashion and nothing like what the other ladies would wear, there was classic appeal to the sweetheart neckline and elbow-length sleeves. Years ago, she had embroidered tiny, pale flowers in ivory silk along the bodice that from a distance looked like lace, and last night she’d replaced the ribbon on her straw chip with a length of cream-colored satin from Mary’s ribbon box. She’d been pleased with the effect when she had finished it sometime around midnight. In the morning light, however, it looked like a pathetic attempt by a poor woman in a ridiculous attempt to measure up. She stared at the woman in the mirror who, despite a new hair style and different dress, was still not the type of woman who took outings to abbeys. She was a governess. Everyone else in the party knew it and would either think she was putting on airs or pity her attempts at inclusion with people so far above her.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked her reflection, then stuck out her tongue, grabbed her chip from the bedrail where she’d hung it the night before, and left her bedchamber before she talked herself out of going.

As she approached the stairs, she heard voices and paused before she would come into view of the guests gathering below. It is only five hours, she told herself. Barely a quarter of a day. The same amount of time it used to take for her to do laundry for her and Grandfather—she’d hated laundry but had done it every week because it had to be done. Five hours was also far less than the amount of time she’d cried in the carriage after leaving London all those years ago.

She had survived those discomforts, she would survive this one too and hopefully learn something. She felt ready to face the misery when she realized it was not the full party gathered at the bottom of the stairs. Rather, it was only two voices. One male. One female. The female voice was easy to identify—Miss Johansson.

Dina moved silently forward until she could see the top of a man’s head through the railing—light brown hair. Another step and she could also see the dark curls of Miss Johansson leaned in close to the light-haired man, who must be Mr. Littlefield. Dina could not make out the words being said, but the tones were low and intimate. She felt a lump in her throat and a fizzle of energy in her chest at their sheer arrogance of engaging in a tête-à-tête right here in the open. Did they want to be discovered? She thought again about the questions Miss Johansson had asked on their walk home from church yesterday and wondered if Miss Johansson knew of the dalliance she and David had conducted in London and felt it justification for her own. Could that be behind any of this? Mr. Littlefield was a friend of David’s this last decade, according to Mary. What if he had learned about David and Dina? What if he had used that knowledge to convince Miss Johansson that there was some score to be evened between them? The possibilities did not quite fit, but so many things were not making sense right now.

Dina moved forward enough to see Miss Johansson’s hand on his arm and take note of how closely they stood.

“Dina?”

She spun around and put a hand over her mouth to muffle the gasp she couldn’t stop. David stood before her and smiled that melting smile as her racing heart floated to a regular cadence. He wore a blue coat—her favorite color on him—and buff breaches that emphasized his long, muscular legs. Rather than the willowy build of the typical Englishman, David had inherited his father’s Scotsman build of thicker legs and shoulders that she found far more attractive.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She lowered her hand and remembered the couple at the bottom of the stairs. For a wild moment she considered dragging him forward so that he could see what was taking place, but her motivation for such a shock was too much in question. All she had was suspicion, and if she were wrong . . .

“G-Good morning, David.”

He smiled, cluing her in to the fact that she’d called him by his given name.

“I mean, Mr. Macarthur.”

He narrowed his eyes playfully. “Mr. Macarthur sounds all wrong on your lips.” He looked at her lips. She felt her cheeks flush, and then his followed suit. This attraction between them muddled her thoughts, confused her ambitions, and made her want more than what she was allowed. An engaged man should not notice her lips at all. Yet she relished it. And felt guilty for that. “I wish that you would call me David all of the time, not only by accident.”

She shook her head but repeated his name in her mind until it sounded like music: David. Da-vid. Dave-id.

He let out a dramatic sigh, smiled again, and lifted and dropped his shoulders. “It was worth a try.”

She couldn’t help but smile back.

He rocked back on his heels. “I understand you are joining us for the outing. I had thought you hadn’t much interest in the party.”

“I don’t belong in the party,” she said, fiddling with her gloves—the same ones she wore to church each week. The only ones she owned. “In this moment I am not sure why I agreed to come, truth be told.”

He quirked a slightly sardonic smile. “I imagine you agreed to come because no one can say no to Fiona Johansson when she sets her mind to something.”

She met his eye. “And she’s set her mind to including me?”

He nodded. “She has asked both Mary and I a great deal about you.”

“She has?”

Just then Miss Johansson laughed, and David looked past Dina’s shoulder in the direction of the stairs. Mr. Jennings’s voice answered, which allowed Dina to relax; Miss Johansson and Mr. Littlefield were no longer alone. David would not discover them. She would not have to see the hurt in his eyes when he realized what was happening. At least, not yet.

“I suppose we should join them,” David said, stepping forward and putting out his arm. Dina looked at it, then looked into his face, close now.

She shook her head and took a step away. “I am a governess here, Mr. Macarthur.” She walked ahead of him.

He caught up to her at the top of the stairs. “I would offer my arm to any woman,” he said quietly so that only she could hear as they approached the gathering party at the bottom of the stairs.

Seven faces looked up from the base of the stairs. Six of those faces smiled at them. Dina avoided making eye contact with Mrs. Macarthur, who was not smiling as she watched Dina and David descend, two feet of space between them on the stairs.

Miss Johansson was at Dina’s side as soon as her foot touched the marble floor of the entry. She took Dina’s arm and gave it a squeeze. “I am delighted you could join us, Miss Cameron.” She turned toward David. “Do you not agree, David? Isn’t it wonderful to have Miss Cameron with us on this outing?”

“Of course,” David said, walking past them both without more than a glance. Dina wished she were doing laundry after all.

CHAPTER SIX

The party stood on the drive while Mary and Mr. Jennings argued—kindly—about how to arrange the carriages. Mary suggested that the men ride in one carriage and the women in the other, but Mr. Jennings pointed out that there had already been a great deal of activities segregated by sex. Miss Johansson suggested three different versions of arrangements in which herself, Dina, and David were all in the same carriage.

“What if we draw straws?” Dina said when it was all becoming tedious. She looked between David and Mary. “It is how we decided all manner of games as children, do you remember?”

“I remember,” David said, holding her eyes. “I’ll fetch straw from the barn.”

Five minutes and eight straws later—four long and four short—each guest drew a piece of straw from David’s hand one at a time. Dina would journey an hour each way with Mr. Dewberry, Mr. Littlefield, and David’s mother. But she wouldn’t have to watch David and Miss Johansson together, so she felt it a fair trade.

Despite suspecting Mr. Littlefield of being a wolf in sheep’s clothing, he was polite and well-mannered, if not even a tiny bit charming on the journey. Mrs. Macarthur was equally kind, though Dina didn’t trust her either. Mr. Dewberry, however, was enchanting and kept the party entertained with facts Dina found difficult to believe: “Did you know that in the Americas there is a miniature rhinoceros-like creature with a snout instead of a horn that can roll itself into a ball like a pill bug? It is true, I swear it.”

“Did you know that there has been honey discovered in ancient tombs of the Egyptians that was still edible? It is true, I swear it.”

By the end of the journey, Mrs. Macarthur and Dina were laughing so hard at his story of trying to cook a meal for his friends when they found themselves at a hunting cabin with no servants that Mr. Littlefield handed each of them a handkerchief, which made them laugh even harder because what man carries two handkerchiefs? Such chivalry could almost make Dina forget that he might be a lecherous git.

Dina stepped down from the carriage while still attempting to contain her laughter but was able to sober herself only when she looked up to see David and Miss Johansson watching her. She swallowed the last of her mirth and inclined her head in greeting.

“It seems you had an enjoyable journey,” David said as he moved to help his mother step down from the carriage. She took David’s hand and attempted to explain Mr. Dewberry’s stories but could not communicate the true power of his diversion.

“I suppose you had to hear it for yourself,” Mrs. Macarthur said, then shared a knowing smile at Dina. “Two handkerchiefs.”

Dina laughed into her hand and no longer wanted to harbor the weight of their difficulties from all those years ago. A grudge would not serve anyone, least of all herself, and Mrs. Macarthur had been right all those years ago. David could not have loved Dina as a wife and an equal partner. Mrs. Macarthur’s meddling had spared all of them so much pain they’d have felt if they had discovered the truth another way. It was a relief to feel the burden of the offense melt away.

“As the senior member of this party,” Mrs. Macarthur said when everyone was gathered, “I insist that we return in the same carriages we arrived in.”

“Here, here,” Mr. Littlefield said, raising an invisible glass in a toast. The warm feelings tempted Dina to let go of her second grudge. Mr. Littlefield had been an amiable traveling companion and made no attempt to find a way to ride in Miss Johansson’s carriage. Would not a lover—even a secret one—want as much time in his beloved’s company as possible?

“You would leave the rest of us out of such diversion?” Mr. Jennings said with his eyebrows lifted in mock surprise. “What a very self-serving determination, Mrs. Macarthur.”

“Nevertheless, it has been decided,” Mrs. Macarthur said with a resolute nod. “Miss Cameron agrees with me too, do you not?”

“Most certainly,” Dina said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before remembering that it was meant to hang by the side of her face. She wished she’d gone with her more familiar style so that she would not need to worry about this one. It felt too loose, but was that only because she was used to something more severe? “And I would not argue with Mrs. Macarthur on this topic for all the pill bug rhinoceroses in America.”

More laughter from the long-straw carriage ensued until Mr. Jennings ushered them through the broken gates of the abbey. “I can only hope that the informative nature of today’s outing will not be entirely lost on you silly midges. Come along, let us begin.”

Mr. Jennings knew a great deal about the county and its landmarks. He rolled off facts and stories for nearly an hour before they made their way to a slight rise where the accompanying servants they’d brought with them had set out blankets and shade to accommodate the picnic lunch. The group enjoyed cold chicken sandwiches, strawberries, oat cakes, and wine before Mr. Jennings released them to their own exploration until it was time to leave. Dina was surprised at how enjoyable the day had been and how much the tensions had paled in light of the easy camaraderie. Mr. Jennings had said there was a druid rock circle to the west of the abbey, but the group had chosen not to explore it due to an incline that could not be comfortably navigated by all members of their party.

Dina had no objection to the exertion for herself, however, and made her way in that direction only to be called back by Miss Johansson when she had just reached the base of the hill. The same irritation she’d felt at Miss Johansson pushing in on her walk home from church yesterday rose up as she turned. Miss Johansson was not alone, however. David gave Dina an apologetic smile as they approached, Miss Johansson’s hand tucked easily around his elbow.

“Are you looking for the druid circle?” Miss Johansson asked with that look of delight that Dina had come to recognize as her most common expression.

“It sounded like an interesting exploration,” Dina said, tucking her hair yet again.

“Might we join you, then?” She smiled adoringly at David. “We were headed in the same direction.”

Dina did not glance at David as she answered. “Of course.” What else could she say? She brushed the blasted hair out of her face again. She’d removed her bonnet for luncheon and then not known how to replace it without a looking glass. Mary had already wandered off by the time Dina realized she needed assistance, so she’d left the bonnet behind since she would be alone anyway. Her regret at not having time alone was shadowed by remembering why she had come on this outing—to get an up-close view of these people in hopes of determining her direction. With that in mind, there was no reason at all not to be grateful for this time in Miss Johansson’s company.

“Excellent.”

Miss Johansson looped her free arm through Dina’s and managed to lead out even though she was the middle of the three. She talked about how delightful the day had been, and wasn’t Dina glad she had come?

Dina enjoyed her life in the Jennings’s household, adored the girls, and felt deep connection to Mary. She had friends and even socialized in certain company from time to time, but she did not get this kind of recreation very often. A new place, the fresh connection with people like Mr. Dewberry. Part of her wanted to put away her feelings for David and concerns toward Miss Johansson and Mr. Littlefield long enough to truly enjoy it. Another part, however, wanted to make sure she used her time with these people as effectively as possible.

They had just reached the crest of the hill when Miss Johansson came to an abrupt stop. David and Dina on either side of her stumbled a bit as they, too, halted. “Oh dear,” Miss Johansson said in a plaintive tone as she looked between them. “I’ve forgotten my bonnet.” She placed a hand on her bare head and frowned at them in turn. “One of the pins was sticking me quite badly at lunch, so I removed it but cannot risk any more time in the sun. I’ve already become so brown.” She untangled her arms and turned back the way they’d come in a single movement.

“Let me retrieve it for you, Fiona,” David said, stepping forward down the hill.

“I would not dream of that. How will I ever learn to be responsible if people are continually making up for my deficits?” She slapped playfully at his arm. “Carry on, I shall return as quickly as possible, and you shan’t even know that I was gone.” She was scampering down the hill before either David or Dina could broach another argument. They looked at one another once they were alone, and Dina breathed him in. She immediately blamed the wine at lunch for making her wickedly happy about this circumstance.

“I should go after her,” David said, but he did not move.

“She is already at the base of the hill,” Dina said, waving in Miss Johansson’s direction. “I do not mind continuing on if you don’t.”

He held her eyes a moment, then nodded. “Very well.”

She smiled and turned back in the direction of the stones. The breeze had changed, and she could definitely feel a section of her hair coming loose from her pins. As much as she enjoyed David’s company, she feared that should they touch, even inadvertently, the sensation would be overpowering. Therefore, she stayed well to her side of the narrow path as they meandered farther into the woods. “It seems you have done very well for yourself, Mr. Macarthur.”

David watched a bird dart out of a stand of trees and tracked it with his eyes as he answered. “I refuse to converse with you if you do not call me David.”

Dina laughed, another sign of too much frivolity and too much wine. “Controlling as always,” she said with a click of her tongue. More hair tucking. “Remember when we were children and you made Mary and I call you by your full name—David Kamdyn Frederick Macarthur? If we didn’t use your entire name, you pretended you hadn’t heard us at all.”

David chuckled. “Mary then insisted on the same consideration, but you wanted to be Loch-Lauren, fairy princess of Brierly Glen.”

Dina had forgotten that part and laughed at the memory. “We were, what, eleven years old when we did that? If I remember right, we played it out for two days before Mary refused to participate and we found some other challenge to bear.”

“I believe we were eleven,” David said. “It was the summer before I went to England for school.”

Dina sobered. “The last summer we had such times together.” She hurried to add, “The three of us.”

After David began school at Eton, his time in Scotland began to dwindle. He was fourteen when his father died and his mother left Scotland for good, eager for her own friends and family back in England. He’d come to Mary’s home for a month’s visit during his and Dina’s fifteenth year, but Mary had been twenty years old then, and all she wanted was to talk about the season she’d just finished in London—a topic Dina and David rolled their eyes over a hundred times. Dina’s grandfather had been in poor health that summer, and she’d been called back to him after only two weeks. They had not seen each other again until Dina had joined Mary in London, when everything had been different.

“Well then, David,” she began, feeling it a safer course to engage conversation than stay steeped in her own thoughts and memories. “It does seem you have done well for yourself. Do you feel accustomed to the work of a gentleman’s life?”

“If there is sarcasm in this question, I am choosing to ignore it,” he said teasingly. “It is far more work than I anticipated—land and tenants and falling prices at market.” He blew a breath with full cheeks. “I am converting a large section of my lands from flax to sheep, and it has required a great deal of adjustment to the overall infrastructure.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

He paused, then looked at her and smiled that light-the-sun smile that made her toes go numb in her scuffed walking boots. “I adore it,” he said, tracing the outline of her face with his gaze as his eyebrows came together.

“Um, I would never want to offer a criticism to a woman,” he said carefully, before lifting a hand to his own head and making a sweeping motion. “Your hair looks rather similar to those nests we would find in the marsh, do you remember?”

Dina’s cheeks flushed as she raised her hands to her head and confirmed that her hair was worse than she had realized. “Och Brae,” she said as she began removing pins. David took a step closer and put his cupped hands in front of her. It took her a moment to remember Mary instructing him on the action when they were young and far enough from their house that her mother would not see her take down her hair. Dina removed the pins one at a time and dropped them into David’s cupped hands. Any potential sensuality was lost in the fact that her hair had somehow knotted itself, which took a great deal of scowling and yanking to undo. David pinched his lips together and looked away.

“If you laugh at me, David Macarthur, I’ll bile yer head.” He clenched his eyes closed and kept his lips tightly sealed while she combed through her hair as best she could and then plaited it in an attempt to contain the mess.

“All right,” she said when she finished. “Hand me those pins.”

He opened his eyes and poured the pins into Mr. Littlefield’s handkerchief she’d tucked into her sleeve. She twisted the pins inside it and tucked the handkerchief back while pretending not to notice him inspecting her hair. The red had deepened some in recent years, though it could not properly be called auburn. It was as thick as ever and now hung down her back in a rope with no tie. The plait would not last but had to be better than the heap it had been before.

“Shall we continue, Princess Loch-Lauren?”

She glared at him, but he only laughed and led out toward the stones. David took his hat from his head and ruffled his own hair, allowing the breeze to catch it while he tapped his hat against his thigh. He was comfortable and easy in his own skin in a way she hadn’t seen when he was with Miss Johansson. She decided not to think about Miss Johansson or Mr. Littlefield just now. She wanted to keep her attention on David and David only. She was quite sure this opportunity to be alone in his company would never happen again.

“I imagine you are also quite good at the work you do,” she said, returning to the earlier topic. “You’ve always been a man of details and determination.” She sent a quick glance in his direction. “I think your father would be very proud of the man you’ve become, David. I hope you know that.”

Not many people knew of the complicated relationship David had with his father. Barney Macarthur had been fiercely proud of his heritage and determined to bring out the Scot in his son through physical labor and continual criticism for the ways in which David fell short. David had expressed during their time in London how he missed the connection to his Scottish history now that his father was not there to demand it have a place in his life. Dina’s response back then was to share with him the stories she’d been raised on in her grandfather’s household, speak Gaelic as often as possible, and serve as a reminder that he was still a Scot, even if he was also an Englishman. She wondered now if that might have been another part of Mrs. Macarthur’s objection to Dina. She not only distracted David from the English girls who would shore up his position in that country, but she also pulled him toward the Scottish tones that his mother had never been comfortable with. Mrs. Macarthur herself had married to a Scot and had not been particularly happy in that union.

“Thank you, Dina. I hope that he would be.”

“It seems you are still very close to your mother.”

“I am her only son,” he said, a bit of a sigh in his voice, then turned to give Dina a playful look. “A fact she makes sure everyone is aware of, most of all me.” He shrugged and ran his hand through his hair again. “I cannot imagine the man I’d have become without her, though. She’s kept me focused and helped me connect with people who have been essential in my development. I owe her a great deal.”

“Certainly,” Dina said, despite the stinging reminder that she had been a stumbling block in his development rather than an essential element. They came to a stop as they stepped into the glen situated with a rather disappointing circle of stones. The tallest of those still standing was only four feet high, and those on the ground were half buried. They began a slow walk around the formation.

“Well, I must admit myself rather put out with Mr. Jennings’s enthusiasm for this, what did he call it . . . historical treasure?” David waved dismissively at the sorry stones at their feet. “I had expected something more like Brodger or even Machrie Moor. This was hardly worth the exertion of coming over that hill.”

Dina kept her expression flat. “You have my full support of whatever retribution you deem reasonable on those who have proclaimed this a landmark worthy of exploration.”

“I am thinking . . .” He looked at the sky and skewed his expression as though deep in thought. “Boiling oil. That is a good Scottish punishment, ya ken?”

Dina laughed as full and free as she had in the carriage with Mr. Dewberry. “Where would we find the oil in these parts?” She waved a hand to indicate the trees around them.

“Burn down his village, then,” David said with a shrug.

“I live in that village,” Dina reminded him.

“Right, we shall preserve the house of Loch-Lauren, fairy princess of Brierly Glen, and settle for stealing all his cattle.” He waved a flourishing hand in a circle above his head.

They continued to discuss punishments, each a bit more brutal than the next, as they wandered around the circle of stones. Once. Twice. Six times. Dina had been placing one foot in front of another but placed her foot wrong and pitched to the side. David immediately put a hand beneath her elbow and another on her shoulder to steady her. They both froze. She raised her eyes to meet his, only inches from her own, and felt that pull she’d kept just outside the door of her consideration burst in. David swallowed, looked at her lips, and then stepped away. The disappointment of his removal was equal to the thrill of knowing that he felt what she felt, at least to a degree. She imagined planting her feet before him, bold and determined, and asking him if he did not feel it too. Ask him if he did not want to feel more.

The wave of longing that accompanied the fantasy nearly caused Dina to lose her balance again.

“I fear Fiona must have lost her way,” David said nervously, looking the way they had come. “We should head back.”

Dina forced herself to remember all that stood between them. Miss Johansson. His mother. His place in England. Her place nowhere.

The excitement and energy drained away, as was right. “That would be a good idea, I think.”

He did not offer his arm as they made their way down the hill, and even though she had to pick her steps carefully, she did not ask for him to steady her.

“Aye, there they are,” David said with relief when they reached the bottom of the hill.

They made their way to the group, but just before they reached them, Dina realized that Miss Johansson was not there. Neither was Mr. Littlefield.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Where is Fiona?” David asked when they reached the group. He replaced his hat as though just remembering he’d removed it. Dina hoped that no one would comment on her hair now plaited down her back, though they would likely agree it was an improvement on what she’d had before.

“We thought she was with you,” Mary said, her expression worried as she looked at the abbey and surrounding trees. She met Dina’s eye, and her expression tightened as she raised her eyebrows in accusation. Without Miss Johansson in their company, she and David had been alone for several minutes. Dina shook her head to say nothing had happened, offended that Mary would suspect differently. Did Mary know more about the connection in London than Dina had previously believed?

“She was with us, but she returned for her bonnet,” David said. “We’ve been waiting for her to return.”

They had been alone for some time, nearly half an hour from the time Miss Johansson had left them. She felt a pit in her stomach for the impropriety of it and moved away from David, nearer to Mary, as though that would make any difference at all. She could feel Mrs. Macarthur’s hard eyes following her but did not look in her direction.

“Where is Mr. Littlefield?” Mr. Jennings asked, voicing the detail that no one had said out loud. The group went quiet, several of them glancing at David and then away. Dina did not look away, however, and saw the tightening in David’s jaw.

“Mr. Littlefield went that direction several minutes ago,” Mrs. Macarthur said, pointing toward the back of the abbey. “He said he wanted to find a keepsake.”

A grown man wanted a keepsake from a ruined abbey?

“What of Fiona?” David asked in a take-charge voice. “Has anyone seen her?”

“I saw her return for the bonnet while I was smoking my pipe. She went back the direction she’d come.” He tapped the front pocket of his coat, which bulged with the assumed pipe and drawstring pouch of tobacco many men carried thusly. He waved toward the hill that David and Dina had just descended to indicate her direction, opposite Mr. Littlefield’s course.

“Perhaps she took the wrong trail in pursuit of us.” David began walking back toward the hill. Dina wanted to follow him but stayed in her place. He began calling out Fiona’s name every few feet as he moved further from the group.

“I shall go after Mr. Littlefield and let him know we are ready to begin the journey back to the house,” Mr. Jennings said in a casual voice, taking the direction Mrs. Macarthur had pointed. Over his shoulder he added, “Dewberry, search the interior of the abbey, will you? Ladies, please keep to the carriages so that we do not lose anyone else.” He grinned to soften the concern Dina saw in his expression. Mary wrung her hands but put on a brave smile. She turned to Dina and spoke with exaggerated interest. “What did you think of the druid circle?”

Dina picked up the lead rope that Mary had thrown and explained the stones to her and Mrs. Macarthur, perhaps exaggerating their grandness so as to extend the distraction. It was perhaps three minutes before the sound of voices caused all of them to turn toward David, who had found Fiona. She had his arm and smiled as she waved at the waiting women, her bonnet in her hand rather than on her head. Mrs. Macarthur let out an audible sigh of relief.

“I am so sorry to have worried you all,” Miss Johansson said brightly when she reached them. “I’ve always had a terrible sense of direction, and I’m afraid I followed the wrong path quite a ways before realizing my mistake.”

Mrs. Macarthur hurried forward and kissed Miss Johansson on both cheeks. “We are just so relieved that you are all right,” she said sincerely before looking at David. “This is why women are not to be unaccompanied, David. You should not have sent her back for her bonnet alone.”

“I see that now,” David said tightly with a nod of acknowledgment. “I shan’t let her out of my sight again, I can assure you.”

Dina saw the glare within the glance he sent to Fiona at his arm, which alerted her to the overall tension of his posture. Anger was only reasonable if he doubted Miss Johansson’s story of having been lost. Dina looked closely at his face—did he suspect something?

He would not meet Dina’s eye.

“Now to find Mr. Littlefield,” Mary said, turning toward the place Mr. Jennings had disappeared into the trees.

“Oh, is Mr. Littlefield also wandering too far?” Miss Johansson asked with wide innocent eyes, her arm still hooked through David’s.

Dina searched her face for insincerity but found no guile there. If not for having seen them disappearing into the woods together on Saturday, would Dina suspect anything other than Mr. Littlefield searching for a keepsake and Miss Johansson finding the wrong path?

“Company ho!”

The group turned together toward the east side of the abbey where Mr. Littlefield strode toward them, one hand outstretched. “I found the most remarkable stone, see here.”

He reached the group and showed them what, to Dina, looked like a rather unremarkable rock. A dozen just like it were scattered in the weeds at their feet. “See how the crystals catch the light just so?” He turned the stone, glittering the crystals that were not that stunning. Dina glanced at David, who still did not meet her eye, then Mary, who was looking among the group with concern and confusion. Miss Johansson and Mrs. Macarthur fawned over the rock that Dina suspected Mr. Littlefield had picked up to provide himself an alibi.

“We had best go for the men who went looking for Mr. Littlefield,” Dina said, eager for some distance from what was feeling like parts in a play. “I shall find Mr. Dewberry.”

“I shall find Mr. Jennings,” David added and moved that direction without delay.

Mr. Dewberry was nearly to the crumbling doorway of the abbey when Dina encountered him and gave him the news that both wanderers had been found.

“Thank goodness,” he said, putting a hand to his chest. “I had not been looking forward to the bushwhacking that would certainly have been the next phase of searching.” He put out his arm, and Dina took it without any of the hesitation she’d shown when David had been the one offering escort. When she touched Mr. Dewberry’s arm, she felt none of the energy that had shot through her when David had steadied her near the druid circle. But of course, she wouldn’t. David was the only man who had ever made her feel so physically aware.

Mr. Jennings and David were coming toward them by the time they reached the group. Mr. Littlefield’s stone had been adequately praised and was now out of view, and Mrs. Macarthur was talking about her brother who’d had an extensive rock collection when he was younger. To Dina it sounded like a forced and tinny justification for a situation that did not look or feel right to any of them.

“Well, shall we configure the carriages, then?” Miss Johansson said in that bright voice Dina no longer trusted.

“Same carriages,” David said in a sharp enough tone that no one questioned it. He nodded to the group and took Miss Johansson’s hand in order to lead her to the carriage. She had to take quick steps in order to keep pace with him.

“Goodness, David,” she said. “Must you be so rough?”

He leaned in with his reply so that no one could hear what he said to her.

“Excellent,” Mr. Jennings said, sharing a quick look with Mary, who was not schooling her concerned expression as well as a hostess should. “Shall we be off, then?”

A murmur of agreement moved through the group as they stepped into their assigned carriages.

Dina’s carriage had only just begun to move when Mr. Dewberry launched into a rousing retelling of the time he was relegated to play Ophelia in a school production of Hamlet.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The return trip required forced laughter on Dina’s part as she tried to appear as though all was well. The other three in her carriage seemed genuine in their interest—Mr. Littlefield was even more animated than he’d been on the first journey. It all felt like a ruse to Dina and yet, again, there was nothing she could hold up to say, “See, this confirms that Miss Johansson is being untrue to you, David.” The falseness left her feeling sick by the time the carriage came to a stop in front of the house. She excused herself quickly with the need to get back to the girls. No one pointed out that she still had the rest of the day off, but then the governess’s personal time was far down the list of concerns right now.

She joined the girls in time for their daily tea, which consisted of lemonade and buttered bread, and dismissed the maid who took her place on Mondays. She tried to forget the tension but found it difficult. Her thoughts kept returning to bright Miss Johansson and tight David and the stupid rock that was supposedly deserving of Mr. Littlefield’s intent searching.

When Mary and Mr. Jennings arrived for children’s hour, Dina excused herself quickly and hid in her room rather than going belowstairs as she usually did. The servants who attended the outing would surely have whispered about what had happened, and as guest of the outing she would be plied to confirm the details. Dina managed the balance between being both a cousin and a servant well enough and did not doubt her ability to put off any questions the staff asked her; her avoidance was primarily due to her fear that should she find a willing audience to whom she might allow all her thoughts to tumble out. Mary was usually her confidante for things that bothered her, much as she was for Mary, but she was caught in an awkward balance in this.

The grandfather clock at the bottom of the stairs chimed the hour sooner than Dina liked, but at least it was only the girls who awaited her company, and they were not expected to interact with the party tonight.

Mary was already gone from the nursery when Dina arrived, and Mr. Jennings was in a hurry to return to their guests. Once it was only her and the girls, she took a deep breath and let it down, trying to send some of the anxiety of the day out with the breath.

Several minutes later, there was a tapping at the door. She turned away from setting out the girls’ clothes for tomorrow at the same time Mrs. Macarthur poked her head into the room. David’s mother looked about, and then smiled when her gaze landed on Dina. Their earlier accord had disappeared, and the more familiar tension settled in as David’s mother came into the room, closing the door behind her.

“I hope I am not interrupting anything.” Mrs. Macarthur was dressed in an emerald-green dinner gown that made her eyes look bluer than usual. Emerald earrings sparkled at her ears, throat, and wrist, completing the picture of an elegant lady she had always exhibited. She looked around the room, taking in the drapery, small furniture, table and shelves filled with toys and books currently put up for the day save for the three stories the girls had chosen as their bedtime tales. To let only one girl choose each night inevitably led to bickering, so Dina allowed them to each choose their own. Olivia and Rebecca never made it through all three, but Elizabeth would remain attentive throughout the third, determined to delay bedtime as long as possible.

“I shall be putting the girls to bed shortly,” she said, waving toward the dressing screen pulled across the far side of the room where the girls were changing into their nightdresses. The screen was more to teach them to be modest rather to afford them privacy, since it was usually only Dina who was in attendance for this change from day to night.

“This is a lovely nursery,” Mrs. Macarthur said, coming farther into the room. “Are you responsible for the situation of it?”

“All was in place when I came,” Dina said in answer to the odd question—did David’s mother really care so much on the set up of the nursery? “Can I help you with something, Mrs. Macarthur?”

“Mary gave me permission to tour the rest of the house before dinner was announced—the official tour for the guests was done before my arrival, apparently. I’ve never been here before, as it is so very far north.”

“Yes,” Dina confirmed, then went back to arranging the stockings the girls would wear the next day. If there was a greater purpose than exploring Mary’s home, Mrs. Macarthur would come to it on her own timing. Dina focused on keeping her breathing even and her countenance neutral.

“It seems that you function here as much as a nurse as a governess.”

“The girls are close enough in age to benefit from both aspects.”

“They seem very well behaved, and Mary can’t say enough about your work here.”

Dina heard the slight emphasis on the word “work,” surely meant to remind her of her place. The genteel class did not “work.” David’s class. She wondered for a moment how it was that this woman had fallen in love with the Scotsman Barney Macarthur all those years ago. What had her family thought of him? Where had they married? Dina knew the relationship had grown cool by the time David was old enough to notice, and his mother had wanted to return to England. Yet Mrs. Macarthur had stayed in Scotland all those years, and she’d been heartbroken when David’s father died. Dina watched from the corner of her eye as Mrs. Macarthur made a slow circle around the room, focusing on one aspect and then another. How much of her objection to Dina was because of some pain she herself had felt being pulled between the world she knew and the world she’d married into?

The girls came out from behind the screen, eyeing Mrs. Macarthur warily. Dina could not remember the last time someone they did not know had come into this place, and she rather liked that they seemed a bit territorial about the intrusion. Dina introduced them, stood back while Mrs. Macarthur fussed over their frilly nightdresses and complimented their performances from other evenings. When she’d finished, Dina suggested the girls put their dolls to bed before story time. It was part of their nightly routine, and the girls were eager to tuck in their babies the same way Dina would tuck them in after the books were read and hair was brushed.

“They really are lovely,” Mrs. Macarthur said, looking at them with soft longing. She turned her eyes to Dina. “You love them a great deal, don’t you?”

“Very much.” Dina began refolding the clothes, drawing out her task while waiting for Mrs. Macarthur to leave. She’d certainly had all the observation she needed of this room. Unless that wasn’t her reason for having come.

“You do not miss Scotland?”

“I miss it every day,” Dina said, smoothing out the skirt of Rebecca’s frock. “But fate has not seen fit to keep me there. I’ve no family now that my grandfather has passed, at least, not the type of family I could settle with.” There were some distant cousins and the son of Grandfather’s brother, but though she was seen as less than genteel in England, she was a poor fit for the life she would have if she were determined to stay in Scotland. She would have to marry, for one thing, and make do with whatever situation that put her in—tending a garden, home farm, family, and hearth without the training for that kind of life. “I’ve instead brought Scotland with me as much as possible.”

She looked at David’s mother as she said this and saw the expected shadow, confirming that her opinions of the land Dina loved had not changed in the years since she’d gently reminded Dina of the differences between her situation and David’s.

“The Scottish folk songs the children have performed have been lovely.”

“They have beautiful voices.”

Mrs. Macarthur looked at a bookshelf as though intent on the titles displayed. “I want to thank you, Dina, for all you’ve done for David.”

Dina’s hands slowed as she placed Olivia’s blue walking boots on the floor beneath the bench where she’d laid out the clothing. Mrs. Macarthur turned toward her, a soft smile on her lips and gloved hands clasped in front of her.

“I know that leaving London was a difficult choice,” she continued. “I hope that seeing the man David has become helps you to better understand the power of your sacrifice.” She turned and began walking toward the windows that looked over the yard. “That night when we spoke was not easy for me. I hope you know that. I want David’s happiness above all things and have always felt kindly toward you and the friends you and Mary have been to him.” She sighed. “Only I could not ignore what I knew in my heart was best for him.” She paused at the window, took a deep breath, and then let it out. “You are not a mother, but you love these girls in much the same way, and so I am certain that you can understand my position.” She turned, facing Dina again. “David is my only son, and his happiness is my only occupation.”

Dina was touched despite the stinging reminder that David had been able to attain his potential because Dina stepped aside. Dina had entertained the idea that maybe things could be different between her and David now, but could they? Was an unfaithful English bride with connection still a better choice than a faithful Scottish one?

“I worried in the beginning that you would tell him of our conversation. It would have been something he was not in a position to understand, something that may have affected our relationship. That is a reflection of your fine character, Dina, and I want you to know how much I appreciate that.”

It was a bitter acknowledgement. Dina had not meant to protect Mrs. Macarthur by withholding the information from David, rather she’d wanted to protect him from all of it: his mother’s concern, Dina’s distraction from the ambition that was not only his mother’s but his too, her own shame at not having put an end to their growing accord before her heart was so engaged. She’d done everything back then to spare him pain.

Because I loved him, she said in her mind, using that word for the first time. Before now she’d acknowledged the attraction, draw, delight, friendship, and physical awareness, but she’d never given those feelings the title she could not ignore now. She had loved him so much. Enough to step aside so that he could become the man he now was. Enough to give up her heart and her fantasy of happiness in the process. She swallowed the lump in her throat, then realized that the love she could admit to now had not been left behind as they had taken separate paths all those years ago. She still loved him. Her heart still belonged wholly and completely to him. She still wanted his happiness above anything else in the world.

“Mrs. Macarthur,” she said, making the unexpected decision as the realization of her feelings for David continued to settle upon her shoulders. She moved toward the older woman and ignored the bickering that was rising from the corner of the room where the dolls and cradles were kept as the girls argued over whose doll got which blanket for the night. “May I confide something in you that is directly tied to that happiness you claim to want for David above all things?”

“Certainly.”

She took a breath and then told Mrs. Macarthur what she’d seen from the nursery window two days before and her suspicions about David’s fiancée and his friend having been apart from the group at the same time at the abbey today. “I understand what you see in Miss Johansson,” Dina said, aware that her voice had picked up in both pace and volume. “She is poised and elegant and, as I understand it, from a good and well-connected family. She appears to be exactly the type of woman who would do David all the credit that is his due, but there is something false in her, Mrs. Macarthur. I fear that falseness is hiding something that would hurt David to know now but could destroy him if her behavior remains unchecked and they are to marry.”

Mrs. Macarthur’s expression had become tight throughout Dina’s retelling. “With whom have you shared this information?”

“No one,” Dina said, shaking her head. “I have no proof, but there is also no denying what I saw or any reasonable explanation for either of these situations.”

“Unless Miss Johansson and Mr. Littlefield told the truth about their whereabouts today,” Mrs. Macarthur said, turning back to the window. “And do you really feel capable of identifying people at the tree line from all the way up here? It is quite a distance.”

Dina stiffened.

Mrs. Macarthur turned back, her face tight. “Lady Clairmont and I have known each other for many years and could not be happier about the connection between our children. Miss Johansson has been raised with formalities that some people take for granted, such as not being left without an escort when out of doors. I find no reason to suspect her explanation of having found a wrong path when attempting to find her way back to where you and David had left her, because she has always had someone to lead her until now. Mr. Littlefield is very much like my brother who, I explained, collected rocks from everywhere he visited for years.” She cocked her head to the side and gave Dina a compassionate smile that lacked warmth. “I appreciate that you care about David enough to be concerned over what you think you might have seen, Dina, but I hope you also care enough to examine your own feelings enough to question your intentions.”

“I know what I saw,” Dina said tightly, embarrassment rising in her chest as she realized it had been a mistake to confide in her. “I had been in Miss Johansson’s company not fifteen minutes earlier on Saturday; there is not another woman here who has such dark hair or was wearing a pink dress that afternoon.”

Mrs. Macarthur raised her eyebrows, then lowered them and nodded. “I shall look into it.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that I shall look into it,” Mrs. Macarthur said. Both her tone and her look were sharp. “And I will ask that you allow me to handle this. An accusation from a governess will have no weight with anyone. For David’s sake, tell no one else of this suspicion and let me handle the situation.” They held one another’s eyes a moment, and then Mrs. Macarthur smiled a tight smile. “Well, I have taken enough of your time and do not want the party to hold dinner on my account. Good night to you, Dina. Thank you for your time.”

CHAPTER NINE

Each time Dina thought over the conversation with Mrs. Macarthur, she flushed with both embarrassment and frustration. She did not know how Mrs. Macarthur was going to “look into it” and worried on one hand she would do nothing. On the other hand, she was afraid Mrs. Macarthur would somehow alert the offending parties, thereby allowing them to further cover up their actions. What if Mrs. Macarthur told Mary that Dina was trying to come between David and Miss Johansson? What if she told David? Would they believe her? Dina wanted to think they wouldn’t but could not be certain. This was David’s mother, the woman whose course he had followed to perfection thus far. If her course continued to include Miss Johansson, Dina had little hope that anything but that course would be kept.

Should I go to David now?

The idea made her dizzy. Mrs. Macarthur’s doubt of her story was hard enough. What if David didn’t believe her either? What if he also thought Dina was trying to discredit Miss Johansson for her own purposes?

Despite it being a fine day, Dina kept the girls indoors so as not to inadvertently cross paths with one of the many people in the party whom she wished to avoid. She did not want to scrutinize expressions or tones of voice, catch coy glances between lovers, or wonder what thoughts were being hidden behind the high society manners. Instead, Dina played floor games with the girls, read books, reviewed letters, and reorganized the toys until she thought she would lose her mind. On an ordinary day she could forget her own worries by focusing on her charges. Today, she could not stop the volley of thoughts and fears and regrets from spinning through her attempts to be attentive. The girls must have sensed her distraction because they were unusually sensitive and petulant. The day stretched out long and dull until Dina finally ordered all three of them to naps, instead of only Olivia, and put them in separate rooms to keep them from distracting one another. Rebecca took Dina’s bedchamber to the east of the nursery, Elizabeth the nursery, and Olivia her railed bed in the room the girls slept in on the west side of the nursery. It took half an hour of going back and forth before all three were finally settled. Only then was Dina able to fall into the chair she’d moved into the hallway and drop her face into her hands. Oh David, she thought as tears came to her eyes. Every other feeling moved aside to reveal the deep sadness she felt for him. He deserved so much better than what Miss Johansson was offering.

What would you have me do, David? she pled in her mind. The boy she’d played with and the young man she’d loved would want to know the ugly truth of what Dina suspected, but David wasn’t either of those persons anymore. He was stoic and careful, and maybe he’d come to accept infidelity as a matter of course. It broke her heart to think that he could be that changed, and her tears came more freely at the idea that her sacrifice all those years ago might have only been—

“Dina?”

She shot to her feet, startled eyes locked on David’s face. Had she conjured him through her thoughts? That she hadn’t felt the change in air bespoke of how very desolate she was feeling.

“Are you all right?”

She tried to blink back the tears, but seeing him standing there looking at her with so much compassion drew the emotion from her even more. She wiped at her eyes quickly. Grandfather had had no patience for tears, and she’d learned to keep her own counsel rather than burden anyone else with it. Burden. There was that word again. That place she felt she’d held in the lives of people around her all of her life. “You should not be here,” Dina said, looking around the hallway to reassure herself that they were alone.

“I only wanted to speak with you for a moment. We did not have a chance to talk after the excursion yesterday.”

Dina looked at the floor. “There is nothing to talk about.”

“You seemed upset by the situation regarding Miss Johansson.”

Miss Johansson and Mr. Littlefield, she amended in her mind.

“Were you . . . concerned for her?” he asked after she did not respond.

She sniffed and wished for a handkerchief only moments before he handed one to her. She ran her finger over the linen, remembering how she and Mrs. Macarthur had laughed over Mr. Littlefield having two handkerchiefs yesterday. It felt so long ago.

“Weren’t you concerned?” she said after drying her cheeks.

“Yes,” he said, letting out a sigh of what sounded like relief. His shoulders relaxed and his eyebrows came together, the familiar single crease between them. “This house party is one of the first opportunities I’ve had to be in company with Miss Johansson daily and . . .”

It was? He didn’t know her?

The silence ticked between them for several seconds until Dina could not support it. “And?”

He turned to feign inspection of a painting hung in the hall. “There are people who feel too much time with someone before vows are made to solidify your commitments can lead to unnecessary questioning of one’s choice. They would have one believe that only after the vows are made is anyone able to adequately find a balance of feeling toward their husband or wife from which love can grow.”

Dina suspected that counsel to have come from his mother.

He continued to inspect the painting, and she took a step toward him, stopping a few feet behind him, breathing in the air surrounding him and wishing she knew what to say. Wishing she could save him without hurting him.

“I think you deserve to be happy in your choice, whatever choice that is, David,” Dina said, trying so hard to be fair in her advice. She wanted to reach out, touch his shoulder, turn him to face her.

“And if it is too late for that?” He turned, startling when he realized she was so close. She didn’t step back even though she knew that she should. He did not move away from her the way he had by the druid stones when a very similar feeling had passed between them. When he spoke, his voice was no more than a whisper. “I have made an offer of marriage, Dina. She is everything a man in my position could want in a wife.”

“Unless you don’t trust her.”

“Do you trust her?”

“My trust does not factor, but you should not ignore your own lack if that is what you are feeling. And you deserve to be happy in the life you live.”

“As you are happy in yours?”

Ouch. She was happy, as she’d told him during their first exchange in the yard, but she could not deny any longer that it was an incomplete pleasure. She also could not separate what she wanted from what was best for him the way she once had.

“I cannot be your confidante on this, David.” She took a breath in an attempt to keep her voice from shaking. “I wish that I could, but it is . . . too complicated.”

“You saw everyone’s reaction yesterday, Dina.” He pointed toward the stairs that led to the rest of the party somewhere in the house. “Each one of them pretended not to think what every one of us thought when we realized Fiona and Littlefield were missing. They acted as though it did not happen at all. I tried to talk to Mary this morning, and she turned the subject, which is why I am here because I need help to make sense of this, and you may be the only friend I have left who will give me an honest answer.”

Dina swallowed, completely caught between what was right and what was acceptable. He began to turn, and she gave in.

“I believe she is being unfaithful to you with Mr. Littlefield.” She covered her mouth as soon as the words were out. David froze in his turn, eyes on the floor. Without turning his body, he looked at her. Stared. A hundred thoughts behind his eyes were impossible for her to interpret. Good heavens, what was she doing? Yet she was in for a pound now. She lowered her hand. “I saw them go into the woods together Saturday afternoon when the men had gone out to the archery range and I was changing my dress. Their explanations yesterday felt like playacting to me, but . . .” Her courage, or perhaps folly, ran through.

“What?” he said in a tired and terse tone. “But what?”

“But I have no proof and fear I am seeing what is not there because of my own . . . protective feelings toward you. I want you to be happy, David. I swear that is all I have ever wanted.” She hated how much she sounded like his mother.

He took a breath and looked forward again, his face in profile as he thought over what she’d said. She held her breath. Would he believe her? Would he show his thanks by taking her in his arms?

“Thank you, Dina,” he said without looking at her. Then he turned and made his way to the stairs that took him away and left her to her burning stomach and flowing tears.

An hour after David had left her, with her stomach still in knots and her better judgement berating her, there was a knock at the nursery door. She turned from where she and the girls were studying a map of England laid out on the floor and braced herself for another visitor she was ill prepared to receive.

Instead, Lydia, the maid who looked over the children when Dina could not, stepped into the room and held out a card. Dina did not receive many formal notes and took the paper from the girl’s hand with some hesitation. She unfolded the unsealed letter and recognized David’s hand.

Cullodina,

Mary is going to invite you to join the party for dinner. I pray that you will attend despite your desire to remain apart. It would mean a great deal to me to have you there.

Yours,

David

––––––––

CHAPTER TEN

Within half an hour of David’s note, Mary appeared to issue an invitation that Dina join them for dinner. She looked surprised when Dina accepted without any of the arguments she had made previously.

“All right, then,” Mary said, confused and pleased all at the same time. “Come to the drawing room at seven.”

Lydia arrived a half an hour later to care for the girls so that Dina could get ready. She had only one dress appropriate for a formal dinner, a navy silk she’d only worn a handful of times over the years. She added her mother’s pearl earrings and the string of pearls that did not quite match since they were from her father’s mother. She did not own any elbow-length gloves, but Mary loaned her a pair of silver ones that completed the ensemble well enough, though certainly not in fashion or at the level of the other women. But then again, she was not like the other women.

Her hair was more complication than she knew how to remedy. She did not dare attempt a style that might, like yesterday, fail her, and yet to wear her governess knot made her feel dowdy. She finally asked Lydia to help her, though it was not Lydia’s place to help another servant and it made Dina feel incompetent. Lydia kept her own thoughts to herself as she twisted and tucked and pinned. The result was a soft sweeping style that twisted into a bun and left a few tendrils on either side of her face. She shook her head, nodded quickly, and jumped up and down until Lydia began to laugh behind her hand.

“I need to make sure it will stay.”

“You are having dinner, not taking a daytrip on horseback.”

Dina smiled, glad to have had something to smile about before going into the lion’s den that awaited her. “Thank you, Lydia.”

“Of course.”

Lydia returned to the girls, and Dina made her way down the stairs when she heard the clock striking seven. Mary was waiting for her and took her into conversation with Mrs. Havershorn as though she knew that the other guests were rather terrifying for Dina to attempt conversation with. She felt as out of place as a pickle in a pudding but kept a smile on her face and participated just enough without drawing any unnecessary attention to herself. As soon as Miss Johansson spotted her, she flounced across the room to her, put her arm through Dina’s, and expressed her delight at Dina’s joining them. David met her eye from the other side of the room and gave her the slightest nod of acknowledgment but no indication of why he’d wanted her to come. When Mrs. Macarthur entered the drawing room with Lady Clairmont and met Dina’s eyes, her expression grew instantly tight. Dinner was announced a moment later, and Mr. Jennings appeared at Dina’s side to escort her to the dining room. Acting that she was comfortable was no remedy to her anxiety, however, and she felt sure that everyone could see how uncomfortable she felt.

Once seated at the table, Dina managed to hold up her ends of conversation with Mr. Donning and Mrs. Havershorn seated on either side of her through the first two courses. Miss Johansson spoke with David’s mother, who was clearly charmed by her, which made Dina even more embarrassed. If Mrs. Macarthur learned that Dina had told David . . . the potential fury made it difficult for Dina to hold her soup spoon.

The footmen moved forward to remove the salad plates and replace them with the entrée—braised beef with bourbon sauce. Each member of the dinner party resumed their silver, creating a natural break in conversation. “Miss Cameron,” Miss Johansson suddenly said loudly enough to engage the entire table.

Dina looked up, fork and knife poised over her plate and cheeks hot at having been singled out by Miss Johansson yet again. Her hands clenched around her utensils as though they offered some defense.

“Will you join us for the trip to Bradford tomorrow? The Havershorns are coming this time, but Mrs. Macarthur is unable. With Mr. Dewberry having had to return to London today, we are out of balance.”

She smiled sweetly, her pretty face bright and hopeful. Dina felt herself tighten even more, certain this woman had a motive other than Dina’s inclusion, though she couldn’t guess at what it could be. “I am afraid I have responsibilities I must see to,” Dina said evenly. Under no circumstances would she join another outing.

“I’m sure Mary would approve an afternoon off, wouldn’t you, Mary? How often will there be a house party in want of your company, after all? Is there not a maid who—”

“I do not wish to join the party,” Dina said so quickly it sounded like a snap, though that wasn’t her intention. Or, well, she hadn’t thought that would be her intention.

The table went still, and Miss Johansson looked taken aback.

“Thank you, all the same.” Dina turned her attention back to her plate that could have been filled with sawdust for all the enjoyment she was taking from the meal. The sound of her knife and fork on the plate sounded like a sword against armor in the silence of the dining room, and her face burned in humiliation. She should have refused this invitation—what had David been thinking?

“It is but one afternoon,” Miss Johansson said with a tight laugh in her voice. “Surely there—”

Some measure of tension in Dina burst so distinctly, she felt sure she heard the pop like the cork on a bottle of champagne. “I have no interest in yer forays, Miss Johansson, and pray you will leave me be. I am not yer equal or yer friend and never will be. I do not know why I am even here.” She pushed back from the table and stood amid open mouths and wide eyes around the table. She only needed to keep the absolute embarrassment at bay long enough to make her escape. Then she could let the regret for her rudeness flood in.

“Sit down, Cullodina.”

Every head swiveled to look at David, who sat tall in his chair at the other side of the table and had such an expression of calm authority that one would think this were his table.

He softened his expression and smiled. “Please.”

The uncomfortable silence stretched tight across the room as Dina returned to her chair, though her body remained tense with expectation. David turned to look at Miss Johansson. “Is your insistence at including Dina in our forays based on the hope that she will distract me from what is happening between you and Mr. Littlefield?”

A combined gasp punched the air, and though Dina had not contributed to the group response, her stomach dropped, and her mouth fell open. Miss Johansson sat frozen, her face an increasing shade of pink. Mr. Littlefield shifted. Mr. Donning sat back in his chair and swirled his wine in his cup as though settling in to watch a cricket match.

“It certainly worked yesterday,” David said, picking up his wine glass and taking a sip. He put the cup down hard on the table, causing the guests to startle like popcorn around the table.

Mrs. Macarthur was the first to speak. “David, such things are not meant for a dinner table.”

David’s eyes moved from Miss Johansson’s reddening face to his mother’s. “What you should say right now, Mother, is that such things are not meant to happen. Where they are discussed seems a paltry detail in light of the fact that the woman I have pledged to share a life with is nicking off with one of my oldest friends.”

“You are misinformed, Macarthur,” Mr. Littlefield said, almost under his breath but meant to be heard.

David leaned to the left so as to turn in his seat and see his friend across a few other guests. “Am I? Please correct me, then.”

“I think quite highly of Miss Johansson, of course, but I have not been nicking off with her. Whoever said as much must have an agenda all their own.” He looked directly at Dina as though issuing a challenge. The anxiety Dina had been feeling, however, was actually lessening. A monster in the light was less frightening than the same menace in the dark, and though David had chosen to address this in a completely unconventional way, it was honest. “I know all about the affair in London and—”

“This is ridiculous and without basis,” Mrs. Macarthur interrupted. “I suggest we all retire for the evening, get some rest, and speak with cooler heads tomorrow.”

“If anyone has seen something that raises questions about Miss Johansson and Mr. Littlefield, I beg of you to tell me.” David looked at each person around the table. “Please.”

“David!” Mrs. Macarthur shouted as she stood abruptly. “I would like to speak to you alone.”

David squared his shoulders and looked hard at his mother. “No, Mother. I have asked for some help from my friends to make sense of what is happening. I will stay through to the end.”

“I will not be party to this . . . this slander and low discussion. It is not done!”

“I have not been sleeping well,” Mrs. Havershorn suddenly said in her soft voice, turning all heads to her as though she’d screamed it. She looked equal parts terrified and regretful as she met David’s eyes. “I sometimes find that walking helps to ease the tightness in my back and was walking the halls Sunday night when I heard a door open. I stepped into a doorway, not wanting to be discovered in my dressing gown. I do not think Mr. Littlefield saw me when he hurried past, but I thought it odd since his bedchamber is in the east wing.”

“Miss Johansson’s bedchamber is near your own, is it not?” Mary asked, her voice timid.

Mrs. Havershorn nodded, her expression sad.

“You are mistaken,” Mr. Littlefield said, a forced laugh in his voice. “I was playing cards with Mr. Dewberry late into the night—it could not have been me you saw.”

“How convenient that the man who can account for your whereabouts is not here,” David said.

“He may not be here,” Mr. Havershorn cut in, “but he pointed out to me before he left this morning that Mr. Littlefield did not join us for some time at the archery range on Saturday. He also saw the two of them in the foyer before the rest of the group arrived for yesterday’s excursion standing closer than he thought appropriate. After they were both discovered missing, he felt very uncomfortable about it all. That is why he left early for London.”

“That is nothing but hearsay,” Mrs. Macarthur spat, glaring at the man from where she still stood. She slapped the table with her hand, causing the dishes to jump and settle in a momentary cacophony of porcelain, glass, and silver. She turned toward Lady Clairmont. “Will you not defend your daughter’s honor and put an end to this, Lady Clairmont?”

Lady Clairmont took a breath and then pushed back from the table. A footman hurried to help her. She stood, placed her serviette carefully on the chair, and looked at her red-faced daughter, who shrank beneath her mother’s gaze, shoulders curling inward as she lowered her head. “I had hoped a man of good character would put an end to these trysts, Fiona.” She then looked at David’s mother, who looked ready to topple over. “I told you from the start, Carolyn, that my daughter has not managed her behavior well, though she plays the part of innocence to perfection. I had hoped that the attention of a good man such as David would be an opportunity for her to be a better woman than she has been, but it seems she is determined to humiliate all of us.” She looked at David and smiled sadly as tears rose in her eyes. “I am so sorry, Mr. Macarthur. Perhaps you and I can speak in the morning and settle the particulars. I shall do all I can to keep you from being maligned.” She lifted her chin and turned from the table.

Mr. Littlefield also stood. He said nothing and did not look at any of them, not even Miss Johansson, as he turned and left the room. David’s mother was still fish gaping at the departing company when Miss Johansson pushed back quickly from the table. David’s eyes fixed on her as she began to rise. “Stay,” he said simply, more pleading than demanding. She swallowed, glanced at the door Mr. Littlefield had disappeared through, but did as he said. Her chin began to tremble, and tears welled in her bright blue eyes that until now had only ever been jolly and eager.

“I am sorry,” she said in a whisper. “But he is not like . . . the others.” She covered her face with her hands, and even Dina felt sympathy for the idiot girl.

“There will be a great deal of unraveling to do regarding all that has happened,” David said to the group when it became clear that Miss Johansson was not going to further explain herself. He appeared calm and collected, but Dina knew his heart was aching. “But I have an apology to offer of my own that I would like to have witnessed here.” His eyes remained fixed on Miss Johansson, softening slightly as she lowered her hands and wiped at her eyes. “I offered you marriage for several reasons, Fiona: my mother’s encouragements, the connection of your excellent family, your ability to manage the social expectations of the place I have hoped to fill in English society, but I never professed to love you, and as our engagement has continued I have feared that I would never be able to give you that. I am not sure that Mr. Littlefield can offer you that either, but you deserve the chance to try and have my blessing to do so.”

She sniffed, looking confused. “You are breaking our engagement?”

“As far as I am concerned, that was broken the first time you took liberty with Mr. Littlefield, unless your mother is implying there have been others since we reached our understanding.”

He raised his eyebrows, and she looked at her plate. Dina was tempted to throw her wine in the woman’s face. How could she treat a man like David this way?

David nodded toward the doorway Mr. Littlefield had left through. “If you hurry, you may be able to catch him before he leaves, as I’m sure that is his intention.”

She hesitated a moment but then jumped to her feet and fairly ran from the room in pursuit of the man she’d chosen over David. For all her poise, elegance, grace, and beauty—she was the stupidest girl Dina had ever met. Bless her.

“Mother.”

Heads moved again. Mrs. Macarthur was still standing, her face slack and her eyes wide. “Did you tell Dina to leave London all those years ago for my sake?”

Mrs. Macarthur recovered her expression enough to shoot an accusing look at Dina.

“I asked you a question, Mother,” he said, drawing Mrs. Macarthur’s attention back to himself. “A few days ago, when she tried to explain her reasons for leaving so suddenly all those years ago, she used a particular phrase you yourself have used numerous times as we have discussed my future—that I needed the right English bride so as to have the right English future. I suspect that is not a coincidence. After all these years of doing everything you asked of me, I think you owe me an honest answer. Did you tell Dina that she was holding me back from the ambitions you had so carefully crafted for my life?”

Seconds ticked by as everyone at the table waited for answers, the room so quiet they could hear the sputter of the candles. When Mrs. Macarthur spoke, her voice was puckered with emotion. “I have only wanted what was best for you, David. You are my only son.”

“That is not what I asked. Did you tell Dina to leave?”

“I did not,” she said after several seconds, her voice confident. “I only asked her to consider what she was taking away from you.”

David’s eyes turned to Dina, and she could barely breathe under the power of his stare. No one would dare lie to him, least of all her. “Is that true?”

Dina nodded. “And she was right, David.”

His surprise was displayed by the flicker of his eyebrows and tightening of his already tight jaw. She swallowed and pretended they did not have an audience. “We were so very young, David. You were not established, and I was not the kind of woman a man like you needed if he were to reach his potential. Once I understood the price one of us or both of us would have to pay if I stayed, I knew what had to be done. I could not be a burden to you and the connection between us was so . . .” She searched for the best word. “So . . .”

“Encompassing,” David said softly. Intimately.

Dina felt tears rise in her eyes as the depth of their feelings settled upon her. Feelings she had thought were in the past but weren’t. “It was too much too soon, a fire we did not know how to control.”

“And now?” David asked, his voice low and anxious as though they were alone.

The air pushed from her lungs, and the first tear slid down her cheek. “We are different people on different paths. I am only in England because of Mary’s mercy.”

“Dina,” Mary said with a catch in her voice. Dina silenced her with a look and a smile of thanks.

“I have always known it, Mary, and am grateful for your care of me, but the class distance between David and I is no small thing and cannot be changed. His opportunities would be less with me at his side, which is why I gave him up.” She swallowed the lump in her throat but could not pull back the tears. “And look at what he’s become. It was the right course.”

David’s eyes closed slowly, and his chin dropped to his chest. Mrs. Havershorn reached for Dina’s hand, and Dina returned the grasp as though that were the only thing that would keep her from sinking through the chair. A minute ago, she’d appreciated David’s bold honesty; now that same virtue felt as though it were slicing her to ribbons from the inside out.

“What of now?”

It took Dina a moment to realize it was Mr. Jennings who had spoken. David turned to look at him, and Mr. Jennings looked between his wife, Dina, and David. “Marriage is a very complex arrangement,” he said slowly, as though picking his words carefully. Several heads at the table nodded in agreement. “Love and connection will never be enough by themselves, but I believe those are seeds God bestows upon people so that they can push through the difficulties of accepting that someone else’s needs are as important as their own. If what David and Dina feel for one another is so encompassing, and they are at a point in life where he is capable of the security she deserves and she is willing to rise to the responsibilities of being his helpmeet, what is left to question?”

“She is a governess,” Mrs. Donning said, wrinkling her nose as she glanced in Dina’s direction. She looked her up and down, then nodded as though Dina’s out-of-date dress and mismatched pearls confirmed the sentence already stated.

“Yes,” David’s mother echoed, looking at her son. “You are a man of consequence. You need a wife who will be taken seriously amid the circles you inhabit.” She flicked a glance toward Dina, who looked back at David, her heart pounding. He continued to stare at the table, and Dina sensed that his mother had given the wrong answer. Or at least, an incomplete one. He still did not know that Dina had confided in his mother. She was still manipulating the situation.

“David,” Dina said.

He lifted his chin and looked at her.

“At the risk of making all of this worse.” She waved her hand as indication of the situation that was so much bigger than this one conversation around this one table. “I think you deserve to know everything so that you can make the right decision for yourself. But know as I say this, that you owe me nothing.” She paused and took a breath. “I left London to preserve your ambitions, not because my heart had changed. I cried through the entire journey back to Braemar, and in all the time since, another man has not entered my thoughts let alone tempted my heart. I am madly and completely in love with you, but I cannot be the sort of wife Miss Johansson could be to you. That awareness is—”

“She is a governess!” Mrs. Donning screeched.

“Well, I think we’ve heard enough of that,” Mr. Donning said, balling up his serviette and throwing it atop his dinner plate as he kicked back his chair. He moved around to his wife’s chair and pulled it back, nearly spilling her on the floor in the process. Mrs. Donning sputtered in offense as her husband took her by the hand and pulled her to her feet. “Choose a partner who can go the distance and make you proud. In my experience, social responsibility will never be more important than trust, respect, and genuine care for one another.” He kept hold of his wife’s hand and looked at her with both tenderness and irritation before looking back at David. “Marriage also lasts a very, very long time. Please excuse us.” He gave a quick bow and led his now quiet wife from the room.

“David,” Mrs. Macarthur said with reprimand as soon as the Donnings were gone. “Be sensible.”

“By following your choice for me even after what we have learned here tonight?” David lifted his eyebrows and let out a single punching laugh. “Do you care so little about me that you would choose a future with a woman such as Miss Johansson because it would give the right appearance?”

“The Johanssons are powerful people; any man would be lucky to connect themselves to them.”

“Not any man,” Mr. Jennings cut in, shaking his head. “I would not trade a faithful woman for anything.” He reached for Mary’s hand, and she smiled sweetly at him. “Social influence is a matter to consider, but it is not the most important one.”

“Enough!” Mrs. Macarthur shouted, glaring at Mr. Jennings for going against her.

“I think I would like for you to leave, Mother,” David said. “We shall talk after I have sorted things with Lady Clairmont.”

Mrs. Macarthur went very still and made a patting motion with her hand as though wanting to press down the tension of the room. “David, do not misunderstand—”

“Goodnight, Mother.”

She let out an exaggerated breath. “I only—”

“Good. Night,” he said between clenched teeth.

“We will see you to your room, Auntie,” Mary said, rising. Mr. Jennings also rose and came around to put out his arm. She hesitated another moment but then stormed from the room with Mr. Jennings at her heels. He paused to whisper something to the head footman standing near the doorway before exiting the room.

Mary approached David, bent down, and kissed him on both cheeks before coming around the table and doing the same to Dina, whose cheeks were wet with tears as she accepted the Scottish blessing.

“Beannachd Dia dhuit,” she whispered—God be with you. The same blessing Dina had shared with David only a few days ago when she believed he was lost to her.

“Tapadh leat,” Dina answered—thank you.

By the time she finished, the Havershorns were halfway to the door as well. The footmen followed, and the door to the dining room closed behind them. Dina and David, sitting nearly opposite one another at the now empty table, looked across the barely touched dishes and half-filled wine glasses. When he stood, she did the same but waited for him to come to her. When he did, he took both of her hands. The power of his touch made her feel instantly drunk.

“Are you truly in love with me still?”

“David,” she said, shaking her head. “I am a governess.”

“You are Cullodina, the keeper of my heart. Do you truly love me still?”

Looking in his eyes she could see the boy and the young man and the man he was now, each of them open to her, pleading for the truth she could not hold back. “Madly and completely,” she whispered.

“And can you accept the terms of being my wife?”

She gave a watery laugh. “What are the terms?”

He smiled, then reached out and touched her hair. She closed her eyes, afraid her knees might give out. “I will not choose my mother over you, but neither will I choose against her. I will apply myself to repairing my relationship with her and will need your support.”

“I can abide yer mother,” Dina said. “After all, you are her only son.”

He smiled. “And though I love Scotland and want time there, I must live the majority of my time in England where my principal interests lie.”

“Living in England has not turned me into dust, but I would love to visit Scotland when possible. I miss it so.”

“Aye, as do I.” He smiled again and placed his hand on her cheek. She leaned into it and closed her eyes.

“What else?”

He leaned close enough that she could feel his breath on her cheek. “At night, when the lights are out, and we are tangled together, you must tell me in Gaelic how madly and completely you love me.”

“Till all the seas gang dry.”

He kissed her then, with all the fervor of youth and confidence of the man he had become, and she kissed him back with all the love of a Scottish lass who’d done right and gotten right for it in the end.

Josi S. Kilpack has written twenty-five novels, a cookbook, and several novellas. She is a four-time Whitney award winner, including Best Novel 2015 for Lord Fenton's Folly, and has been a Best of State winner for Fiction. Josi loves to bake, sleep, eat, read, travel, and watch TV—none of which she gets to do as much as she would like. She hates to talk on the phone, learn how to do new things, and sweep—all of which she gets to do a lot :-)

Josi and her husband, Lee, have four children and live in Northern Utah. For more information about Josi, you can visit her website at www.josiskilpack.com