But she eyed her sister warily as they approached. Sir Hugo said, “Lady Sidony looks as if she expects you to eat her, lass.” “I wish you would address me properly.” “Do you want me to announce to all and sundry that you are the lady Sorcha Macleod, traveling in borrowed clothing—or your own, for that matter—with a man she scarcely knows as her sole protector?” “No, of course I don’t want that. But you could manage to show some respect for my rank if for nothing else.” “Respect? My dear child, you have upended your own world and mine, not to mention Sidony’s and Adela’s. In view of all that, I believe I’ve shown you exceptional respect by not following my first and strongest inclination when I found you this morning.” She bit her lip, wishing she had held her tongue. Oddly, the fact that he had called her his dear child rankled more than his general refusal to address her properly. To be sure, they might have reason to avoid that when they met strangers, but such reason did not pertain when they spoke privately.
