Okay, maybe I’ve been unfair to you, Fiona. But I don’t want you to think that I believe anything else MacDuff said. No offense. But I’m my own person and I like it that way. From what he just told me about you, I believe you might be able to understand that. Personally, I think your father sounds like an asshole. I’m sorry you had to deal with him. MacDuff thinks that the cards were stacked against you because you were a woman in a man’s world. I hope that’s not true. Just because I don’t want to be related to you doesn’t mean I don’t want what’s best for you.

Of course, whatever had happened to her had occurred back in the late eighteen hundreds and there was nothing that Jane could do about it. That was as infuriating as everything else that was happening around her right now.

She wondered if Jamie MacDuff had been as much a son of a bitch as Jane was suspecting. “Because I really don’t like the idea of him getting away with anything,” she whispered.

“Don’t tell me you’re communing with my Fiona?” MacDuff was chuckling as he strolled into the gallery. “I approve. I told you that you’d have a chance of getting along if you took off the blinders.”

“Nonsense.” Jane turned away from the portrait. “Communing? I was just examining the brushstrokes. They’re quite amazing. You don’t know anything about the artist? Not even if it was a man or a woman?”

He shook his head. “Jamie never told any of the family anything about the artist. I guess they just assumed the artist was male. It would give the portrait more status in their eyes, and Jamie was all into status during that period of his life.”

“You mean when he wasn’t throwing his closest kin down the nearest well?” she asked dryly. “And there are women artists who could achieve this quality of brushstrokes.”

MacDuff nodded. “I didn’t mean to imply you couldn’t have done it. I know you could. I’ve seen you do much more detailed work. I’m just trying to give you the correct perspective.”

“I’m getting very annoyed with that perspective.” She gazed back at the portrait. “It’s a wonder that she was able to win any of those prizes or ribbons when she was being smothered by all that machismo bullshit.”

“Maybe she regarded it as a challenge.” MacDuff’s lips indented in a faint smile. “I know someone who would react like that. But you’re being very defensive of Fiona. Am I to assume that you agree I’ve been right about her?”