After a few flustered moments, the conversation continued, though Fiona was certain that all the whispered words around the table had to do with their host’s inept bride.
“ . . . her hair, have you ever seen anything like it . . . those flowers . . . the dress is beautiful, but immodest, and now ruined . . . there are stories that she was raped, and Joshua rescued her . . . little good sense there . . . I hear she wears britches and works with the gardener like a servant . . .
The tittering voices claimed her mind, her heart was pounding as rapidly as her head; the fierce desire to flee had not left her, though Joshua’s intimidating eye prevented her from making a move.
When she happened to gaze down the table, her blurred vision suddenly cleared, and Lowell Kane’s visage came distinc
