10
“Well then?” Niall asked. “Who were they, and what did they want?”
“One was Amelia Hepburn, Ensign Hepburn’s sister,” I said. “And the other was Charlotte something-or-other. I did not get her last name. She was the stuck-up one.”
Niall nodded. “Aye, if we are lucky, she’ll fall into a peat bog or a patch of nettles.”
I said nothing, enjoying my mental vision of the arrogant Miss Charlotte face down in a peaty puddle or sitting in a bed of nettles. Yes, I thought. Yes, I would like to see her in either situation.
“The Hepburn one was friendlier. I think she is Mr Gillespie’s intended.”
“More important than that,” Niall said, “these two women may distract the militia. Your father has arranged another cargo of whisky this Friday, and with that damned Exciseman sniffing around, thing
