Ewan entered the kitchen and frowned as the conversation among Cailean, Annabelle, and Sorcha ground to a halt. “What is it?” he asked. He tensed as they shared guilty stares.

“I had to go to the Merc before supper. Right before it closed.” Cailean cleared his throat and met his brother’s impatient stare. “I saw Jessamine entering the café with Warren.”

Ewan shrugged. “It doesna matter who she decides to consort with.” He glared at his sister as she snorted at his use of the word consort. “She has no interest in me. I willna attempt to force her to change her mind.”

“Ye ken the woman wants ye, Ewan,” Sorcha said. “She would never have written what she did if she didna.”

“Nae, she is a reporter after a story. Mine was the beginning of her sentimentalist twaddle. She used me to show the townsfolk she had changed. After her harsh attack on too many of them, including Bears and Helen, she had to find a way to show her change of heart. I was the perfect candidate as I was her constant target.”

Annabelle frowned as she watched him. “I hate that you’ve become so cynical, Ewan. This isn’t like you.”

He snorted. “Perhaps this is truly how I am, an’ I’ve finally decided to show ye what I’m like.”

Cailean rolled his eyes. “Ye are no’ a chameleon, ye bluidy idiot.” He exhaled through his nose as he attempted to calm his temper. “You are angry with her. With good reason.”

“Aye, an’ learnin’ she’s having dinner with another man does no’ soothe it.” His eyes flashed for a moment with anger and hurt before he pasted on his mischievous smile. Ewan pulled out his chair and sat. “What is for dinner?”

“A heaping of common sense,” Annabelle snapped. She waddled to the stove and extracted a haunch of venison, which Sorcha promptly took from her. Bears had successfully killed a deer two days ago, and they had fresh meat for a few days.

Cailean watched his brother and correctly sensed that he would not discuss further the conversation that needed airing. “How long until the smokehouse is finished?” Cailean asked.

“I’ll have it done on Sunday.” Ewan ignored his siblings’ disgruntled stares and helped himself to a piece of venison. “We are lucky Bears is such a good hunter. We’ve always had to depend on the butcher for meat before.”

“Yes, although I must learn new recipes.” Annabelle smiled at her family as she sat down, ignoring the empty chair at the table.

“You’ll relish the challenge, love,” Cailean murmured, smiling when his comment provoked a pleased flush on his wife’s cheeks.

“How is Fidelia?” Ewan asked. “I ken ye want to ignore how she refused to come for supper again. I worry I forced her into a life she doesna want and resents me for it.”

Annabelle gripped her fork tightly and shook her head. “She is miserable. Says she misses her old life, although she does not make any attempt to return to the Boudoir.” She met Ewan’s worried gaze. “If she did, I would not stop her. She has been granted the greatest gift, and, if she is not able to recognize it, there is nothing more I can do.”

“Nae, I did little except free her from that woman. Yer gift is far more valuable, Anna. For ye love her, no matter what she’s done. Few would admit to that.” Ewan looked down at his plate as his sister-in-law fought strong emotions.

“I do not know how to cure her of her desire for laudanum. I fear that, when the terrible lassitude filling her eases, she’ll try to obtain it any way she can.”

Cailean patted his wife’s fretful hands. “You spoke of her love of embroidery. Would that entertain her thoughts while she is fighting off the laudanum?”

Annabelle sniffled but sat taller. “I may see if either of the mercs can order some goods for me.”

Sorcha shrugged. “I’ve heard that many of the Beauties at the Boudoir are suffering a similar fate.”

Ewan nearly growled. “Don’t let that quack doctor near Fidelia or Annabelle. Call the midwife if needed.”

“Seems the new doc is having a hard time replenishing his stores, and they’ve run out of their source of medicine.” Sorcha met her brothers’ incredulous stares. “They talk to me when I deliver baskets. They are people.”

Cailean shook his head in wonder. “I never thought to see the day my sister or wife would visit the Boudoir daily.” He grunted as Annabelle elbowed him in the side.

“You know it’s for deliveries. Now that Dee is no longer there, I’m considering curtailing the amount I sell them.”

Sorcha shook her head. “Dinna do that, Anna. The women love yer treats, even though they might not eat as many due to the Madam and Ezekial.”

Ewan frowned. “What happened to her other henchmen?”

“Oh, she didna pay them, and they left. Moved on to other towns. Her finances have only worsened since yer card game.” She shrugged. “Ezekial is committed to the Madam for reasons I dinna understand.”

The brothers shared a long look. “I will continue to hope you remain in ignorance,” Cailean murmured.

Ewan nodded as the rumors of the Madam’s intimate relationship with her head henchman were widespread among those who frequented the Boudoir. “Aye, ye dinna need to ken anything further. An’ ’tis her own fault she’s having financial problems. She should have a successful business. Instead she gambles away the profits and does little to protect the women who work for her.”

Annabelle sighed as she ran a hand over her belly. She looked at the ceiling at a crashing sound. “I fear Fidelia is having nightmares again and thrashing about. I should tend to her.”

Ewan rose. “Nae, I will. I brought her here, and I willna have her harmin’ ye in an opium-fueled fit, when ye are to have a bairn.” He nodded to his brother who smiled his thanks. He walked to the hall and up the stairs. When he turned left to enter Alistair’s old room, he paused at the sound of Fidelia’s pitiful moaning.

“Fidelia,” he murmured as he eased open the door. A glass of water had shattered, and shards of it lay on the floor. He ignored the mess for now and wet a cloth in the water pitcher on the bureau across from the bed. He approached her shaking, shivering form on the opposite side from where she had knocked over the glass.

“Shh,” he murmured. “Dinna fash yerself so.” He swiped at her face and clammy neck, jerking out of range as she swiped an arm in his direction. He chuckled as she muttered swear words under her breath. “Calm yerself, Fidelia.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she rasped as her teeth rattled. “Just let me die.”

He paled at her pleading words, his jaw firming and any levity fleeing his gaze. “Nae, I willna. Too many care for ye and would be filled with pain and agony at yer passing. Especially yer sister.” He sat on the chair by her bed, holding her hand. “Ye are stronger than that damn poison.”

“I’m not,” she cried, her body convulsing. “I just need a little, and then I’ll be better.”

He tsked and continued to talk to her in a soothing tone.

Fidelia swore at him and turned away, but the constant hum of his low voice formed a counterpoint to her moans and trembling. He frowned as she failed to slip into a restful sleep, and he stared at his brother when he poked his head into the bedroom.

“She’s bad,” Ewan whispered after he rose and joined his brother hovering near the door. “I think one of us should go for the midwife and someone should sit with her tonight. Perhaps tomorrow too.”

Cailean nodded. “I’ll find the midwife and can remain with Fidelia tonight. I’ll see if Sorcha can sit with her tomorrow.”

Ewan frowned. “Ye have work, Cail.”

Cailean shook his head. “Fidelia’s more important. Besides, with Bears and Alistair, they will survive without me for a morning.”

Ewan slapped his eldest brother on the shoulder. “Well, sit with her now, and I’ll find somethin’ to clean up the mess.” Ewan watched as Cailean sat beside Fidelia, smiling as Cailean recounted stories from the past year before Ewan left to find a dustpan and broom.

* * *

Two days later, after the midwife made a follow-up visit to check on Fidelia, Ewan poked his head into her room. He nodded with relief to find her resting peacefully, no longer shaking or quivering. As he was on the verge of closing the door, her low “Wait,” caused him to turn and meet her stare.

Rather than long, shiny chestnut hair that gleamed in candlelight, her dull hair was ratted on her head. Sunken cheekbones, sallow skin, and sky-blue eyes devoid of emotion met his stare. “Have you taken inventory?”

He frowned and shook his head.

“Of how I am different? I would no longer be considered a Beauty if the Madam could see me now.”

He smiled at her as he pulled out a chair to sit next to her. “Ye will always be beautiful, Miss Ch … Fidelia,” he stammered as he spoke her real name rather than her Boudoir name. “An’ ye should no’ look to one such as the Madam for validation. Or to the men there.” He met her cynical gaze. “Look to yerself.” He frowned as she scoffed and curled into herself as she lay on her side.

“Why did you bother to accept the deals of her wager? You would have been much better off forcing her to pay you money.”

Ewan leaned on his elbows propped on his thighs. “I dinna agree. Ye are worth more than any amount she could have paid.” He watched as she picked at a thread on the afghan. “Do ye ken who might have won ye?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to know. I have enough nightmares.” She fought a shiver. “I hate that she believed she could wager me.”

Ewan tilted his head to one side as he studied her. “Fortunately for ye, she did. Would ye have refused to go with another?”

She closed her eyes and nodded. “She gave me an out. I knew you would not harm me.” She flushed with embarrassment. “You would not see me as a piece of property.”

“Nae. Never.” He cleared his throat. “Although many in the town will never see past what ye were.” His somber gaze bore into hers.

“I know.” She took a deep breath. “Will you ask if someone can continue to sit with me? I fear I am not as strong as I would like to be.” Her flush deepened at her admission of weakness. “I am nearly free of that horrible drug’s hold on me, and I do not want to seek out more of it.”

Ewan nodded. “Aye, sister, I will.” He smiled at her shock at his term for her. “Ye are my sister, Fidelia. Ye have been since my brother married Anna.” He ignored her sniffle as he rose and eased out of the room.

Sorcha waited for him in the hallway. “Well, how is she today?”

“Better.” They shared a relieved look. “Will ye continue to sit with her? Maybe knit with her or something until her embroidery supplies arrive? She doesna want to be alone as she’s afeared she’ll try to buy more of that wretched potion if given the opportunity.”

Sorcha firmed her shoulders and nodded. “I will. She will no’ want for company.”

He grinned. “Mayhap silence.” He laughed as Sorcha hit him gently on his arm. “Have a good day, Sorch.”