Effie frowned. That wasn’t true. Ian McKinnon had tried to raise it with him the very morning he had arrived, straight after the parliament, and he’d been sent away with a flea in his ear.

He glowered at Effie again. ‘Please tell me you people had the decency to let his lordship know before you petitioned the British government?’

You people? Effie realized suddenly the reason behind his palpable anger – he was going to be out of a job. No islanders meant no tenants and no rent to collect. No factor.

No factor?

She straightened herself up. She no longer had to cower to this man. It was like having a boulder lifted off her chest. ‘I wasn’t involved in the formalities, sir. I simply signed where I was told to sign.’

He looked at her incredulously. ‘And would you jump from a cliff too, if asked to do that?’

‘If you asked it? Absolutely not, Mr Mathieson.’

His eyes narrowed as he absorbed the new tone in her voice, saw the contempt in her eyes.

‘Have you forgotten yourself, Miss Gillies?’ he snapped.

‘Mathieson, there’s no need for that tone. I understand feelings are running high. Everyone is rightly shocked but Miss Gillies is not responsible for this process, nor its unintended consequences,’ Sholto said sharply. ‘It appears that Miss MacDonald is governing the events. You may wish to cover the bureaucracy of it with her.’

It was a dismissal, they all knew.

The factor glowered like a hot coal for several moments and Effie wondered whether the temper that had soured so many of her neighbours’ days today would overrun him again now. But he regained just enough self-control to walk off without another word, his manners fast beginning to disappear along with his career prospects.

‘Odious man,’ Sholto said under his breath. ‘Sir John can’t stand him either.’

‘Why does he keep him on, then?’

‘He’s good at his job,’ Sholto shrugged. ‘But let’s not waste time talking about him.’ Almost everyone had left now. They would have to disperse in the next few moments too or be conspicuous by their lingering presence, and she couldn’t afford the attention after this morning; her father was as angry as she’d ever known.

‘I have to go.’

‘What? No. Stay. Just a few more minutes.’

‘I can’t.’

‘But we have to talk. We can talk, can’t we?’

She shook her head. ‘My father’s furious with me. I caught a supper off him when I got back and he’s kept me in his sights all afternoon. He’s said I’m not to go near you. He’ll realize any minute I’m not with him and he’ll come looking . . . I have to go.’