Margot lightly traced the gold leaf on a china plate beside her. “I don’t recall such porcelain being available here. Wherever did you get such exquisite china?”

“From France,” the daughter said. “The laird give it to us to sell.”

Gave it to them to sell? “It’s beautiful.” She looked around. “You have so many fine things. The ships from France must come often.”

Mrs. Gowan shrugged and folded her arms as if she were uncomfortable.

“A ship came last night,” her daughter offered helpfully, earning a glare from her mother. The daughter pressed her lips together and looked down.

Was the ship meant to be a secret?

“Well. I’m quite impressed with your wares. I should like some soaps and bath salts to be delivered up to the castle, if you please. You may tell them Lady Mackenzie requested them and have them pay you.” Margot smiled with pleasure at her good deed. That ought to satisfy Mrs. Gowan. Surely the woman would be thrilled to have an order for goods from the laird’s own wife. Shopkeepers always like to have their wares in the finest houses. In the village near Norwood Park, shopkeepers practically sought her out, so desperate were they to have this candelabra or that chair at Norwood Park.

But Mrs. Gowan did not move as much as a finger.

Margot tugged uncertainly on her earlobe. “A selection of your choosing,” she offered helpfully.

“Milady,” the younger one said, and dipped a curtsy. She stepped out from behind the counter and began to gather a selection of soaps and sachets.

But Margot kept her gaze on Mrs. Gowan. Why was she casting such a cold glare at her? Perhaps she didn’t care for Margot’s money, but why be unpleasant to the laird’s wife? Didn’t she realize Arran would hear of it? She couldn’t possibly still be upset about the charity.

As her daughter wrapped the soaps and sachets, Margot said, “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Gowan, but I’ve clearly done something to displease you.”

“Aye, you have,” she readily agreed.

“Ma,” the girl whispered. Her mother paid her no heed.

“Is it the alms? On my word, I truly meant to help. I didn’t know about Highland clans,” Margot said, pressing a hand to her heart.

Mrs. Gowan and her daughter exchanged a look. “The what?” the older woman asked, squinting at Margot again.

Margot could feel her face turning red. “If your displeasure with me does not stem from the charity, how can you be so clearly cross with me?” she asked. “I’ve only just returned to Balhaire.”

“Well, that’s just it, is it no’?” Mrs. Gowan asked.

“Pardon?” Margot asked, taken aback.