Page 53 of Auctioned to the Cruel Highlander
“Aye. Her. Apparently, she has been married for just three weeks and already quarrels with her husband?”
Ava narrowed her eyes, intrigued. “How in God’s name do ye learn about these things? Do ye receive letters from people every day detailing what is happening in their lives?”
Isobel shrugged. “I have me ways. Apparently, Margaret and her husband argued for a long time over the arrangement of their dining table. The maids thought they would burn the castle down with the way they kept screaming at each other.”
Ava let out a short breath. “Only the dining table?”
“Aye. It appears marriage has made her brave.”
Ava remembered Margaret. She and Isobel used to play with her when they were little. Margaret had always been so carefree and full of life. Her mother, on the other hand, had been quite strict. It was no surprise that Margaret had inherited some of those traits.
“Marriage has made herbossy,” Ava commented, eventually. “She merely has one man now who cannae escape it.”
Isobel laughed. “Poor soul. He used to look so proud of himself whenever she entered a room.”
“He looked proud because he thought himself chosen. He hadnae yet understood the terms.”
The conversation moved on from there with an ease Ava had missed all morning. Margaret’s ribbons. Margaret’s cooking. Whether she truly adored her husband or only enjoyed ruling a castle now. The sort of harmless gossip women could use to circle larger truths without naming them at once.
“At least she seems happy,” Isobel said.
“She seemssettled,” Ava corrected.
“Is there a difference?”
She looked down at her hands. “I think there might be.”
The room fell quieter after that.
Isobel set the mending aside. “Ava.”
“What if I made a mistake by staying here?” Ava had not meant to say it so plainly. But once said, it filled the room at once.
Isobel’s expression changed, alarm first, then steady refusal. “Ye cannae think that.”
“Can I nae?” Ava asked softly. “He turns me away as if I were some small interruption to be put off until later. I daenae ken whether I am wanted here half the time, and that isnae a good way to start a marriage.”
Isobel leaned forward. “Listen to me. The maids like ye. They speak of ye when ye arenae there, kindly. Mrs. Patmore finds ye amusing, which is almost a miracle in itself, because she scarcely likes anyone. Ye have already made a place for yerself here, whether ye feel it or nae.”
Ava tried to take comfort in that. Some part of her did.
“And him?” she mumbled.
Isobel’s mouth softened. “Him, too. Though he is slower and far stupider about it.”
That coaxed the smallest genuine smile from Ava.
“Give him time,” Isobel advised. “He is a difficult man, but that doesnae mean he is an empty one.”
The words did not heal the hurt, but they gave Ava some relief.
Isobel must have noticed that, for she rose and held out her hand. “Come. Let us walk in the gardens before ye sit here making yerself miserable.”
Ava took it and rose. The sting of Ciaran’s dismissal still followed her, but now at least, she could do something about it.
For a little while, the gardens did what Isobel had promised they would.
They walked slowly at first, then more easily once the paths widened and the air felt less stuffy than it had inside the chamber. The flowers along the borders had begun to turn fuller in the afternoon light, and bees worked somewhere near the rosemary.
