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stoic disposition stood near the blazing hearth.
    “We’re rich!” Brannock blurted out.
    “Brannock!” Blaire hissed.
    The two lasses exchanged mercenary glances with each other and then turned their attention to Aiden. “Captain Lindsay,” the first one began, “have we come at a bad time?”
    Aiden shook his head and gestured to Blaire, still standing in the corridor. “No’ at all. Allow me ta introduce my sister. Blaire, this is Miss Heather Fyfe, Miss Crissa Fyfe, and their father, Mr. Fyfe. I told ye they’d be payin’ a visit.”
    Both Miss Fyfes raked their gazes across Blaire and she suddenly had the urge to bolt. “Pleasure,” she lied.
    “Well, come in, come in,” Aiden ordered, patting the spot beside him on the settee. Then he gestured to the older lass. “I was tellin’ Miss Fyfe how ye love ta sew.”
    In other words, he’d been lying through his teeth. “Ye shouldna have said so. Truly.” Blaire forced one foot over the threshold and then managed a tight smile as she took the place beside her prevaricating brother.
    “Aiden!” Brannock stamped his foot. “Will ye listen ta me?”
    Her older brother sent a scathing glance at the lad. “My apologies, ladies. The lad’s governess has been derelict in her duties.”
    Governess? Blaire almost choked. What Banbury tales had Aiden been spinning? And why did he care about impressing the golden-haired Fyfe sisters anyway? “Aye. Ye really should have a word with Miss…Gulverness. She has been so lax of late.”
    “Gulverness?” the younger Miss Fyfe, Blaire wasn’t certain which was which, piped up. “Yer governess is called Miss Gulverness?”
    Blaire sat up straight, daring the woman to call her on her lie. “Aye. Gulverness. I think that is why she went inta this line of work, Miss…uh.”
    “Crissa,” the lass added, her light blue eyes narrowed with suspicion.
    “Aye, Miss Crissa. I think Miss Gulverness became a governess because the name suited her. Much like a blacksmith named Smith. No one thinks that odd, now do they?”
    Crissa Fyfe’s blond brow furrowed. “I suppose no’.”
    “Of course no’,” Blaire agreed.
    “Why doona ye go find Miss Gulverness , Brannock, and I’ll meet with the two of ye later?” Aiden ground out.
    Brannock thrust out his lower lip, glowered at their older brother, and then stalked from the room. The poor lad. He had such delightful news and was being disciplined by having to seek out the nonexistent Miss Gulverness for his punishment. If Blaire wasn’t so annoyed with Aiden, she would have laughed.
    “Now, then.” Aiden shifted in his seat. “Blaire, ye’ll be happy ta ken that Miss Fyfe loves her needle and thread.”
    So the lasses were bragging about their accomplishments to the handsome new owner of the local castle, were they? Not that Blaire thought Aiden was handsome, but she’d heard others in Edinburgh lament the fact nearly all her life. And now the enterprising Fyfe sisters had just heard Brannock announce they were “rich.” How the devil would they ever get rid of the pair now that Aiden was a handsome, wealthy Army captain in possession of a castle? “Ye doona say?” she asked in a sickly sweet voice. “That is positively fascinatin’, Miss Fyfe. Needle and thread, ye say?”
    Heather Fyfe narrowed her green eyes at Blaire in a most calculating manner. “I say, Miss Lindsay, ye have,” she gestured to Blaire’s head, “somethin’ in yer hair.” Then she shuddered for dramatic effect.
    Blaire’s hand flew to her hair where she discovered a rather stubborn cobweb interlaced with her locks. Havers! That was a bit embarrassing under the circumstances.
    “My sister is so excited about seein’ every inch of Briarcraig that she must have been investigatin’ a place the servants have yet ta clean.”
    The servants meaning Blaire and Brannock. “Oh, aye,” she agreed quickly. “So many corridors and alcoves ta see.”
    “Are ye no’ afraid of the