Ian shrugged. ‘Same as any other. Books to keep, letters to write.’ Ian had a good head for figures and when Alec had taken the position at Maiden’s Creek Mine, he had secured the job of company clerk for Ian, a temporary position that seemed to have become permanent as his brother had proved his worth.

‘One interesting thing happened. Cowper’s niece arrived in town. The boy came with a message and Cowper shot off. Came back an hour later with a face like thunder,’ Ian said.

Alec paused, fork halfway to his mouth. ‘I know. I sent her flying into the mud this afternoon and I was probably less than polite.’ The memory of the encounter with the small, angry woman in the green coat came back with startling clarity.

Ian laughed.

‘It’s not funny,’ Alec said.

‘Yes, it is.’

‘Cowper’s niece of all people,’ Alec muttered and sank his head into his hands.

Ian studied his brother. ‘If she’s Will Penrose’s sister, she can’t know that Will is dead.’

‘I think you can assume Cowper told her.’

‘Cowper certainly wasn’t happy. He actually swore.’

Ian worked in the main office, which was separated from Cowper’s by a half-glass partition wall. While the partition itself was hardly soundproof, Ian kept his ability to lipread from his employer, who had got into the habit of handing his clerk written instructions. Ian could make out most conversations conducted in the privacy of the mine manager’s office as long as the participants’ faces were visible. Thinking he could not be overheard by his deaf clerk, Cowper tended to be less discreet than he would otherwise be. Fortunately for his employer, Ian had a strong sense of integrity and unless he felt it was something Alec should know, he kept his own counsel.

The thought of the awful news that Cowper would have imparted only intensified Alec’s guilt at his ungentlemanly behaviour toward the bereaved Miss Penrose and when he had eaten, he searched out the bottle of Scotch whisky he kept for these occasions. Ignoring Ian’s sharp glance, Alec took the glass he’d poured to his seat by the fire. Undeterred by his previous eviction, Windlass jumped on to his lap and settled again.

Ian closed the book he had been working on and joined Alec. ‘You drink too much.’ As a good Presbyterian, Ian disapproved of drinking for whatever reason.

‘Aye,’ Alec agreed. ‘I do.’

‘Drinking will not—’ Ian began but closed his mouth as Alec glared at him.

It was a conversation the brothers had many times and it was true, drinking wouldn’t bring Catriona back, but it eased the pain and helped him forget, if only for a little while. Alec lifted the glass, watching the reflected flames from the fire leap and dance in the soft amber liquid.