Effie’s eyes met his. Sibyl had been wearing her clothes only last night. To have cleaned and dried them in this time . . . when exactly had the laundry maids started?

‘She was adamant that they were to be returned to you as soon as possible,’ he said, as if reading her mind.

Effie peeled back the top layer. John’s woollen vest, the one she had knitted so poorly for him, lay plump and clean – no more beetroot stains – on top. She immediately understood what was meant by the gesture. It was an act of solidarity, the servants showing a kindness in response to Sibyl’s malice last night. It also meant they all knew what had happened, her very public humiliation.

‘It’s just my washing, Father,’ she said in Gaelic, showing him too.

‘Ah,’ he said, losing all interest and shuffling back inside the cottage to resume sweeping the floor.

Billy watched him go before he spoke again.

‘She’s gone,’ he said firmly, the look in his eyes making it plain who ‘she’ was.

‘Gone?’ Sholto had done it, then? He’d said he would – but so soon? She felt her soul pirouette.

‘Aye. Fraser drove her to the station this morning.’

‘Not Sholto?’

‘No. Not him.’ For once, he didn’t correct her impertinent familiarity.

She stared down at the bundle, trying not to betray how fast her heart was beating, but she knew her cheeks must look flushed, at the very least. Her happiness felt almost uncontainable. Was it contained – or could Billy see it in her? Was her secret in fact nothing of the sort?

‘Well . . . then Henry must be pleased,’ she said lightly, a hint of a smile hovering over her lips.

His eyes twinkled as he grinned in return. ‘Oh, Henry is over the moon.’

Effie chuckled softly at the memories of the footman walking Margaux around the rose gardens every morning. But the big cat was gone now, and her owner with her. Effie brought the clothes in to her chest and clutched them tightly. She had thought she would never get these back again, her only mementoes of her brother.

‘I thought you’d want to know,’ Billy said, watching her. ‘But I should get back. It’s frantic up there, tidying up after the party before his lordship and the countess arrive home.’

Effie was surprised. ‘They’re coming back today?’

‘Aye,’ he groaned.

‘You must be run off your feet! When did the party finish?’