Sophia turned her head upon the pillow, her confusion so apparent that the countess softened even more and asked the question over in a phrasing that was plainer still: ‘Does Mr Moray know that you are carrying his child?’

Sophia felt as though her heart had stopped. She’d been so careful that it seemed impossible the countess could have come to guess the truth. And then she realized, ‘Kirsty told you.’ In dismay, she would have looked away again had not the countess laid a hand upon her own.

‘My dear child, no. No one did tell me. You forget I am myself a mother.’ There was dryness in her tone. ‘You must ask my own sons and daughters how they fared, when they did try to keep a secret from me.’

‘How long have you known?’ Sophia sagged against the pillows.

‘Some few months now.’

‘But you have said nothing.’

‘No. I did trust that you would come to me, in time.’

Sophia cast her gaze down. ‘I had hoped, you see, that John…that he…’

‘He does not know?’

She shook her head, intending to explain and yet not knowing how to start.

The countess gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. ‘My dear, you must not worry. Mr Moray is an honorable man.’

‘He is much more than that.’ Sophia raised her head and drew a breath. ‘He is my husband.’

As the countess stared, surprised, Sophia drew the heavy silver ring upon its chain out for a second time and held it up as evidence. And once again it seemed her heart paused while awaiting the reaction of the woman whose opinion mattered more to her than almost any other’s.

Moments passed. And when Sophia felt she could no longer bear the silent judgment any more, the countess said at last, ‘I see there are some secrets, yet, that can escape my notice.’ She was looking at Sophia’s face as though she had not seen it before now. ‘I would not have imagined you would think to marry without asking my permission.’

Guiltily, Sophia tried to think of an apology. She would have spoken, but the countess had not finished. Reaching out a hand, she brushed Sophia’s hair back from her forehead, motherly. ‘When you did come to Slains, I knew that you had suffered from those years within your uncle’s house. It is a dreadful thing to rob a child of its innocence. ’Tis why I am so glad to see, whatever else he did to you, he did not kill your spirit, nor your independent mind.’ She smiled. ‘And if you would defy your wiser elders, you could do much worse than marry Mr Moray. In my younger days, I would myself have thought him quite a prize.’

It was Sophia’s turn to stare, astonished, with no thought of how to make reply. She had expected punishment, and here she was receiving benediction.

‘But,’ the countess said, ‘there is a place for independence, and a time when you must know enough to put it to one side.’ Her tone was kindly, but decisive. ‘It is no easy thing to birth a child. You are too young, my dear, to bear this burden by yourself.’

Sophia knew that there could be no arguing with those determined eyes. Nor was she in a mood to argue, for in truth the great relief she felt at knowing that the countess knew the whole of it at last had left her peaceful in her mind, with all her fears about the next few months already fading as though they had never been.

The child within her kicked with strength, as if to prove it had not suffered any harm from Wick’s attack, and gathering some of that same strength to her own self, Sophia faced the countess. ‘All I wish, now, is to keep my child from harm.’

‘And so you will,’ the countess promised. ‘But you cannot do this on your own.’ Her set expression made it clear she had been thinking on this long, and knew already what to do. ‘You will need help.’

CHAPTER 16

JANE SET THE PAGES to the side and said, ‘Well?’

Looking up from my cake plate I asked her, ‘Well what?’

‘I’m intrigued, now. What happens?’

I admitted that I wasn’t sure yet. ‘But of course in those days you just couldn’t have a baby on your own, with no one noticing. And since they’ll be wanting to keep Sophia’s marriage to Moray a secret, I think that the countess is going to send her away, somewhere safe.’

‘And where would that be?’

‘I don’t know. I’ll have to see.’

‘But if the baby’s due in…’ She was silent for a moment,counting months. ‘In March, then won’t that mean Sophia’s not at Slains for the invasion?’

‘I don’t know.’ I licked the icing from my fork.

She shook her head. ‘How can you write a book without a proper plan?’

‘I’ve always done it like this.’

‘Not exactly like this,’ Jane corrected me, running her thumb down the side of the pages to straighten the stack. ‘I’ve never seen you write a book this fast.’

‘It must be the Scottish sea air. I’m inspired.’

I kept my tone carefully light. Jane only knew about the one episode of the castle floor plans, and she’d already put that down to overwork, and I had let her go on thinking that was all that it had been. It was a strange thing, but I found it much easier talking about what was happening to me with someone I barely knew, like Dr Weir, than with someone I felt closer to, like Jane. Or Graham. Maybe it just mattered more to me that they not think that I was crazy.

And I’d known Jane long enough to know there was no place for unexplainable phenomena within her ordered life.