Charlotte walked up the stairs slowly, hardly hearing the details Mrs. McLean was pouring into her ear—the difficulty of finding good servants, what happened to six pieces of the best china Tuesday last, the need for new linen. She wasn’t as impervious to Alex as she had hoped. When Pippa pulled her close she had caught Alex’s spicy male smell, and against her will her knees weakened.

Charlotte oversaw the transfer of her clothes out of the bedchamber adjoining the master bedroom and into one far down the corridor next to the nursery (the servants accepted without comment her wish for better light), directed the arrangement of her paints in one of the four corner tower rooms that was currently unused, and personally inspected Pippa’s new nursery. After scanning the room, Charlotte ordered another layer of carpets laid on top of those already present. Pippa still spent a good deal of time crawling on the floor, and she didn’t want her to catch a creeping influenza from the damp, cold stone that made up the castle floors.

Then she ordered a bath and lapsed into the steaming water, exhausted to the bone.

“Marie,” she called out from behind the screens that protected the bathtub from the cruel drafts which circulated in every room. Marie was muttering to herself in French as she hung her mistress’s gowns in the great wardrobe. She didn’t approve of Scottish castles, practically hanging off into a cloud of mist, this one was. The damp! And what were they to wear? She had packed the mistress—and herself—for Italy. And Italy this was not!

“Marie!” Charlotte called again.

“I’m sorry, my lady.” Marie’s annoyed little face appeared between a gap in the screens. “Would you like me to ring for more hot water?”

“Yes, I would, thank you, Marie. And would you please send a message to the earl, telling him that I intend to retire for the night and will simply have a tray in my room? I am exhausted.”

Marie didn’t think much of hiding in one’s bedroom; she thought Charlotte should go out there and battle her husband. But looking at Charlotte’s white face, she had to agree. Perhaps it would be better to take up cudgels tomorrow, when Charlotte had slept and looked her best.

“Of course, my lady. Should I instruct Mrs. McLean to call a seamstress to the castle tomorrow? I’m afraid that we must have those wools that we bought in Glasgow made up into dresses as soon as possible. You and Pippa will be down with colds in no time flat in this weather.”

“That’s a very good idea, Marie. When Pippa returns to the nursery, will you ask Katy to send her in with me? I should like to have supper with her, please.”