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everything.”
    “Aye, madam, but your father was fostered in an English household. Indeed, he was half English himself, but English ways are not my ways.”
    “If you would permit me to speak freely…”
    When Blanche paused meaningfully, Sir William sighed and said, “Say what you will, madam. You generally do.”
    “Very well; then, I say ’tis folly to allow one daughter to wind you round her thumb whilst you cast obstacles in the paths of your other daughters’ happiness,” Blanche said bluntly.
    “Godamercy, Blanche, what—?”
    “What if Laura should never marry? Have you thought about that?”
    “Aye, every time you cast the prospect in my teeth, I think on it,” he retorted.
    “She is nearly twenty, sir. Girls normally marry as early as fourteen!”
    “I’ll admit that she’s getting a bit old,” he said. “If she’s not married by the time she’s one-and-twenty, I’ll think on the matter again.”
    “But—”
    “That is enough,” he said sternly. “I’ve made my decision. Moreover, I’ll remind you and your daughters that the same law that lets Laurie say aye or nay to a husband gives me full authority to forbid any daughter’s marriage. Do not think you will get round me on that, madam, because you won’t.”
    He scowled at Blanche and then at May.
    May did not meet his gaze. She had finished eating and was sitting with her hands in her lap, looking down. Her demeanor appeared to be submissive, but Laurie saw Isabel give her yet another searching look.
    Feeling guilty, Laurie wondered if May was simply trying to conceal irritation at Sir William’s stubbornness, or hers.
    She would have liked to tell May that she was sorry if her waywardness was causing difficulty. Had she been able to explain her aversion to marrying, she would have liked to do that, too. However, she could not explain it beyond saying she had never met a man she wanted to marry, so she sat quietly instead, saying nothing and hoping that no one would command her to speak.
    A mental picture of the red-haired man in Tarras Wood suddenly filled her mind. So clear was it that she glanced hastily around to see if anyone had noted a change in her demeanor.
    No one was looking at her. Blanche’s gaze was drifting toward May, who was still looking down at her lap. Isabel was watching Blanche.
    Turning to Sir William, Isabel said, “Sir, when will the English attack again? Will they murder us all, do you think?”
    Sir William regarded his youngest daughter fondly and said, “They may attack again, lassie, but here at Aylewood we are as safe as mice in a mill. Our tower, sitting as it does on its rocky crag with only the one track approaching it and with someone always keeping watch, must be well nigh impregnable.”
    “But if the Laird of Buccleuch and Rabbie Redcloak go after those men who attacked today, Lord Scrope’s men will attack Liddesdale again,” Isabel said. “That frightens me, because dreadful things will happen and more people will die. And Bridget says that perhaps next time the raiders will come all the way to Aylewood.”
    Blanche said gently, “You must not listen to servants’ gossip, Isabel.”
    “But Bridget kept crying all day. She said that she heard those horrid men had killed her brother and two of her uncles—even one of her brother’s bairns!”
    “Who the devil is Bridget?” Sir William demanded.
    “Your daughters’ maidservant, of course,” Blanche said. “I will speak to her directly after we have finished here, I promise you. She may have received dreadful news, but she should not repeat such sordid tales to the child, nor should she speak of persons who do not exist, like that Rabbie Redcloak.”
    “Does he not exist, then?” Isabel demanded, wide-eyed. “Laurie said he does. She said that Sir Quinton Scott of Broadhaugh knows him. That is why Rabbie’s Bairns helped Lady Scott rescue Sir Quinton from Carlisle, and that is why they call her ‘Janet the Bold.’ Also,