Page 71 of Highland Sword
“Well, that settles two things,” Aidan said, smiling.
“What is settled?” she asked, trying to catch her breath.
“You’ll wait for me to get back.”
“And the second thing?”
“I have to kill Sebastian.”
With that, he brushed a final kiss across her lips and walked away.
CHAPTER22
MORRIGAN
The three women examined the etchings closely. The artwork didn’t differ greatly from the flyers Morrigan had brought back from Inverness. Making a mockery of the son of Scotland was the central theme. The nuns and students were depicted around the edges.
“Now that I’ve met her,” Morrigan said, “it’s easier knowing we were correct about how she uses the periphery of the artwork.”
Maisie agreed. “It would have been impossible to locate her without the clues that placed her at Barn Hill.”
Morrigan watched her and Fiona continue to study every detail. She had no idea where Madame Laborde was taken. Until Aidan gave her these, they had no way of knowing if the woman were still alive. Actually, they still didn’t know for certain. These could have been made from the drawings the artist was delivering to Sir Rupert the day they met in the gardens of the estate in Inverness.
Morrigan had spoken to Searc about it when he returned to Dalmigavie after the trial. Now that they knewwho she was, he had his people searching for her. But so far, nothing had come back. Even Mrs. Goddard was at a loss regarding where she’d gone, and she was quite concerned about it.
Maisie shook her head and stepped back from the table. “It’s truly a shame that Madame Laborde should waste her talent supporting the wrong side.”
“One would think she could have earned a decent income doing caricatures for your newspaper friends in Edinburgh and Glasgow,” Fiona said.
“I doubt they would pay as well as Sir Rupert and the Home Office.”
Morrigan agreed. “If money is her only motivation, then she’s aiding the side with the deepest pockets.” She thought back over her conversation with Mrs. Goddard and Madame Laborde. “She’s a widow who has fallen on hard times. She has no family to go to. She’s needed to rely on the charity of women who are strangers to her.”
“Are you justifying her actions?” Maisie asked.
“Not at all. But it’s important to understand her desperation.” Morrigan owed her freedom to the artist. If she had not prodded her to go, reminding her of the consequences of what could happen, she might had been foolish enough to face Sir Rupert. “When it comes to survival, the fact that we’re women stacks the cards against us. Take away marriage and inherited title and wealth, and we must rely on some talent that we’re not averse to marketing. Marriage is not always an option or a preference.”
The two women stared at her for a moment and then exchanged a look.
Maisie was the first to speak. “Has he asked you?”
“Who? Asked what?” Morrigan turned away and sat on the bed, smoothing her skirts. She had the answer to bothof those questions, but she was unsettled. She didn’t know what to make of how easily Aidan’s attentions left her starry-eyed and hopeful, in spite of everything.
Still, they had no understanding as far as she was concerned, and she couldn’t imagine how there ever could be. The obstacles were too many to count.
Maisie sat on the bed next to her. “Pray don’t forget who you’re talking to. I know you. What happened between you and Mr. Grant before he left?”
“Nothing.” Morrigan was definitely not going to tell them that she’d kissed him. Twice.
“He’s coming back,” Fiona said.
“He has to come back. He’s standing for the election when the time comes,” Maisie affirmed. “Niall told me Searc and Cinaed already have a number of social events planned for him to attend around Hogmanay.”
These would be social events where he’d be introduced to at least a dozen unmarried women who would no doubt make better wives for a politician. The pang of jealousy was sudden and sharp and left Morrigan disturbed. She stood and walked to the window.
The mountains heard that Samhain had come and gone, and a dusting of snow covered the peaks in the distance. The seasons were changing. Time was moving on.
Morrigan thought of the words Madame Laborde said to her in the garden.Look at you. No home, no family of your own, no dowry, and no prospect of marriage. You have no future, Miss Drummond.
