The pony seemed to know precisely where she wanted to go and moved down the path with ease. When she reached the beach, she could see a ship anchored quite far out. She could see the figures of men moving about on the deck of that ship and noticed that someone had pulled a rowboat up onto the shore.

A month ago, Margot would have thought nothing of this ship. She would not have been particularly interested if it had just come in or was preparing to sail. But now she wondered if that ship was a key to her husband’s guilt or innocence.

She was gazing out at the ship when a movement caught her eye, and she turned to see a man coming out of the woods. When he saw her, he stopped. He rubbed his hands on his dirty trousers and glanced at the ship, then at her.

Apprehension swooned in Margot’s belly. “Ah...good afternoon,” she said uncertainly.

He said nothing; he stared warily.

Perhaps she should have heeded Mr. Pepper and at least brought a dog along with her. “I am Lady Mackenzie.”

“Aye, I know who you be, mu’um.”

Well, then. At least he knew there would be consequences for murdering her. Or rather, she at least hoped the possibility of dire consequences might cross his mind. Frankly, she wasn’t entirely confident of it. “What...what were you doing there, in the woods?” she asked. When all else failed, assume an air of authority and hope for the best.

The man glanced back over his shoulder. Several wooden crates had been stacked in the shadow of the trees, and she immediately assumed guns. If her husband was planning a rebellion, he would need guns. And didn’t guns generally arrive in crates?

“Nothing, milady,” he said. “We’ve brung back bolts of cloth and fine china. We’ve got to get them off the ship.”

“But...where have you come from?”

“From the Continent, milady.” He was nervously twisting the cap around in his hands.

The Continent. Margot felt a little ill. Guns from France! First guns, then men. Didn’t that seem logical? “Have you brought any men with you? Any soldiers or officers?”

He looked confused and glanced at the ship. “No.”

Another rowboat had been put in the water at the ship, and two men were slowly making their way toward shore with several crates between them. She didn’t have much time.

“Who has commanded the ship?” she demanded, as if that would enlighten her in any way.

“Cap’n Mackenzie, mu’um.”

That was no help—there could be dozens of Captain Mackenzies around here.

“Aye, Cap’n Mackenzie,” he said again.

He began to move toward her, and Margot’s heart climbed to her throat. “The laird shall be along at any moment,” she said, and even glanced over her shoulder with the insane hope that he might somehow miraculously appear.