“Ha!” Annie plopped her fists on her narrow hips as she glared at Mary. “Ye were fashin’ us, weren’t ye? Tellin’ us fibs aboot one o’ Lord Strathmore’s guests. Ye ought to be ashamed o’ yerself.”

“I’m not tellin’ fibs,” Fat Mary said, though her gaze shot to the door and back as if she were considering running for her life. “I seed him, I did. And his arse, too!”

“I don’t know who you ‘seed’ or whose arse, but it wasn’t St. John’s,” Kat said. “He was in the blue room because none of the others were ready.”

“There!” Annie eyed Mary with disgust. “Isn’t it time ye returned to Kilkairn? I daresay they’ve more dirty pots fer ye to scrub.”

Mary stiffened, her plump shoulders rising almost to her ears. “I was just tellin’ ye what I seed, was all.”

“What you wished you’d seed,” Annie amended. Though a good head shorter than any other woman in the room, she managed to maintain control of every conversation, simply through sheer force of her character. Even now, her hair tucked beneath a cap, her whip-cord thin body covered with a gray gown, and solid, plain shoes on her feet, she was plainly in command. “Off with ye. Mary, ye know where ye’re wanted…and where ye’re not. I’ll have yer cart brought around. Lucy, thank ye fer the jelly. Tell yer mum we’re grateful.”

Kat watched while Annie bustled her guests out to their cart and waved them on their way. Then, wiping her hands on her apron, Annie returned and pulled out a wooden bowl and a sack of potatoes and began peeling them.

Kat found another knife and joined in. “I’m sorry your visit turned out so unpleasantly.”

“Och, don’t think on it. Fat Mary is as Fat Mary is. By this time tomorrow, neither of us will remember who was mad aboot what.” Annie finished off a peeling with an expert twist of her wrist.

“She’s a braggart, all right,” Kat agreed.

“Indeed. Actin’ as if she was the only one who saw him in the castle.” Annie turned to Kat and eyed her up and down. “Well?”

“Well what?” Kat asked uneasily. She kept her gaze on the potato she was peeling so she wouldn’t have to meet Annie’s gaze.

“What do you have to say aboot the stranger at the castle?”

“I know his name is St. John.” And that he had a mouth made for kissing. Kat cut the potato with more force than was necessary, the knife thunking soundly on the cutting board.

Annie eyed the flashing knife with some misgiving. “Indeed?”

“Aye. If I remember what Malcolm told me a while ago, I believe they met whilst the two were down at Eton.” Or so she thought.

“Indeed?” Annie said. “Is that all ye know?”

“Aye,” Kat said.