CHAPTER 8
DUNDEE, MAY 1827
“I am not a prize,” I said.
I stood outside the front door of Mysore House with Henry the butler standing to straight-faced attention and Baird watching me with quiet amusement.
“You are worth competing for,” Baird said.
“I do not wish you to compete for me,” I insisted. I had been in confusion since that night outside the mill, wondering what was best to do.
I had tried to discuss things with Mother, but she had only smiled and said: “Imagine having two men fighting over my daughter. You are a lucky woman to inspire such interest.”
I did not feel lucky. At that moment, I felt as if I could run away from Dundee and start life anew elsewhere. But I knew I could not. I could not leave Mother alone in her present delicate state of nerves, and nobody would hav
