“I’m surprised it hasn’t.” MacDuff handed her a cup of tea. “I found the journal and diary buried in a trunk in the attic in the house of Fiona’s father, Jamie MacDuff, when I went exploring for the connection with you. They were in pretty sad shape. Yet as soon as I could tell what they were, I set about getting them restored. I wasn’t about to let them be lost.”

She frowned, puzzled. “And what are they?”

“The ribbon belonged to Fiona. She won it during the athletic games that were held here at the Run. It was sort of our version of the Scottish Olympics, and all the young people participated. Jamie MacDuff was a second son who was something of a black sheep. He was a drunkard and a gambler and seldom visited the Run except when he hit up his brother, Colin, for loans. He owned a house on the border and let his daughter run wild in the Highlands. But she was still allowed to participate in the games here and often won prizes. Those notes and diagrams were because she spent time researching the terrain when there was a race to be won. Take a look, they’re in great detail. She evidently liked to win.”

“Don’t we all,” she murmured. She was looking at the sheets again. “Very precise.”

“And the reason there were no portraits or sketches was that Jamie didn’t have any painted of Fiona until she was grown. He’d sowed all his wild oats and blown what money he had left. Then he decided it was time to use Fiona to become more respectable, so he had her portrait painted and began looking for a match for her. Preferably one that would give him the power he’d always envied his brother, Colin, having.” He shrugged. “That’s the portrait in the gallery. It’s an excellent painting.”

“Providing you want to sell a young, vibrant woman to the highest bidder,” Jane said grimly. “It’s no wonder the artist didn’t sign that painting. He must have had a conscience.”

“Or he wasn’t well enough known to have his identity mean anything important to the patron. Maybe Jamie was too poor to be able to afford anyone but a rank beginner,” MacDuff said. “I like your reasoning better. It’s probably not historically accurate, though.”

She looked down at the book again. “But I bet she must have been a good deal happier when she wrote in this book than when she was posing for that portrait.”

“I don’t know…I think she looks very bold and excited in the painting. Kind of…adventurous. Maybe she was looking forward to becoming the head of her own household.”