I paid little attention to the coach standing outside the mill when I left work at seven that evening until the driver shouted my name.
“Miss Easson!”
I looked around, fully aware that half the spinners were doing likewise, with Anne nudging Isabel and pointing to me with some rude comment on her lips. I turned away, ignoring them.
Baird opened the door for me. “Good evening, Miss Easson.” His smile was as broad as ever, with the late evening light reflecting from the signet ring on his little finger.
“Good evening, Mr MacGillivray.” I gave a polite little curtsey, wishing he would leave me alone when all I wanted to do was hurry home and discuss our financial situation with my mother.
“Are you rushing again, Miss Easson?”
“I am going home, Mr MacGillivray.”
“Then allow me to take y
