‘Of course, sir.’ She couldn’t help but be relieved that she wouldn’t have to forfeit her chop after all – her first ‘easy’ meal in the land of plenty, a dinner she hadn’t had to hunt, catch, kill and pluck first, although given what she’d had to endure to get it, she wasn’t sure anything about it was easy.

Lord Dumfries allowed his gaze to skirt the tiny room. ‘Well, I must say, all things considered, they’ve done a . . . fine job, finding homes for everyone.’

Effie bit her lip. Her views on that matter were firmly opposite. ‘Aye, sir.’

‘It’s a dashed tricky logistical exercise, moving man and beast across the water like that, providing homes and jobs. It’s no mean feat. No mean feat at all.’ He looked back at her, a convivial light in his eyes that reminded her of his son. ‘Although I’ll be honest . . . I think perhaps I could offer you better. The light is somewhat . . . poor, here.’

A silence opened up as she – and her father, who was understanding not a word – looked back at him in bafflement.

‘You see, I have a proposal for you, Miss Gillies—’

Her heart lurched at his words.

‘—I want you to come and work for me. Come to my estate in Dumfries and do what you do best.’

‘Fowling?’

He gave an amused laugh. ‘Ha, no, sadly not! We’ve nothing like the numbers of birds you’re used to, for one thing.’

‘Oh. So you mean cragging, then?’

He hesitated. ‘No, not that either. I’m afraid you’ll be very disappointed with our hills. They’re pale imitations of what you’re used to.’

She waited for him to tell her what he wanted her to do, then. Feed his animals? Weave his tweeds?

‘Miss Gillies, I want you to come to Dumfries House and curate my ornithological collection.’

‘What?’

Lord Dumfries smiled. ‘You know my passion for bird life was what brought us to your shores originally this summer. I thought I was something of an expert, but I don’t mind admitting that in the space of under a week I – or rather, we –’ he said, referencing his absent son, ‘learnt more from you than we ever did from a book, professor or birder.’

Effie blinked.

‘The truth is, I’m being courted by a museum in London. They believe my personal collection of eggs, feathers and whatnots merits an exhibition and, whilst I am still undecided, it has concentrated my mind on organizing the collection with the care it deserves. I have a great many specimens but I’m not too proud to admit my interest lies in the chase and procurement; cataloguing is rather too time-consuming for my diary and things have become somewhat muddled.’ He looked at her carefully. ‘What do you think?’