He laughed, as though she’d told a joke.

Effie glanced at his son but Sholto, having untied himself, had turned away and was staring out to sea. He had his hands jammed in his pockets, his jaw jutting forward slightly. Had she offended him with her abruptness? Had she been rude when she’d been trying to stay ‘polite’?

‘Seeing as we’re up here, I can take you to see something special if you’re interested – a sooty tern?’ she offered. ‘I only saw it a few days past. It’s not nesting here. It’s resting on migration, so it might have left already, but I could show you where I saw it, in case. As I understand, the sooty tern’s only been recorded in the British Isles three times.’

Sholto turned suddenly on his heel, cutting into the conversation. ‘Is that Boreray over there?’ His voice was unusually sharp as he looked at her and she knew she had insulted him.

‘Aye. It’s where the men have gone to pluck the sheep.’

He frowned as he looked back at the small isle. ‘So then what’s that?’

‘What’s wha—?’ But as she said it, she saw it and she knew. She knew immediately.

Two huge slabs of turf – each the length of three men – had been carved from the grass and turned over. From this distance, four miles across the water, they appeared like dark cuts, a wound in the land. ‘No,’ she whispered, growing pale at the sight.

‘Miss Gillies?’ the earl asked with concern. ‘What does it mean?’

It was a moment before she could reply. Only once in her lifetime had the semaphore been used for this.

‘It’s for sending the boat. One cut means they’re ready to come back. Two means there’s been an accident or someone’s sick. Three means there’s been a death.’ She looked back at them, already beginning to tread backward, preparing to run. ‘I can’t stay, I’m sorry. I’ve got to get back and tell the others. Are you able to get yourself down? Just follow the path.’

‘Of course. Go! Go!’ the earl urged.

‘I’ll come with you,’ Sholto said.

‘No, stay with your father,’ she said, turning back. ‘You shouldn’t separate. Stay together.’

‘But I can help row. Only one man came back, didn’t he? With two rowing over there, we can make better time.’

It was a good point. And they knew that Effie, for all her determination to stand toe to toe with the males, couldn’t match a man’s strength on the oars.

‘My son’s right,’ the earl said. ‘You need manpower and he rowed for Oxford. Take him. I’ll be fine. Both of you make haste. I’ll make my way down in my own time.’