This last week, the girl’s parents had paraded her around like a piece of horsemeat for sale—an apt analogy, as far as Josephine was concerned—and Jo had the impression she was relieved to have a quiet day away from any eligible gentlemen. Jane’s father led the group along with Lord Deeds. They were eight in all and, once the woods gave way to sparser trees, they would leave the road to picnic along the banks of loch Ness. For Josephine, the only thing she liked about their outing was Lord Wylst’s absence. He, along with Nicholas and her father, had remained at Barthmont Keep. A day free of the three men had been worth the price of her mother’s company. The sun shone through clouds that reminded the god of light that even its great power could not penetrate the clouds’ airy density should they deign it so. But Jo had lived in Inverness all her life, and knew these clouds would not rain today, despite their show of power.
