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“Well, that is lucky.”

Minerva drew in a breath. “But, you see, there is something I forgot…at the farmhouse.”

Her mother waved a hand. “I am sure whatever it is can be replaced. Or can it not be posted?”

“It cannot be posted.”

“Whatever is it? Was it something valuable?” Her mother lowered the cup to the saucer. “Please tell me Mr. Barton does not have another task for you?”

Minerva shook her head vigorously. “No, nothing like that, but… I feel that I should go back.”

Her mother peered at her. “To Scotland? You wish to travel all the way to Scotland again?”

“Well…” Minerva stared at her hands. “Yes,” she said softly.

When she met her mother’s gaze, it was narrowed and shrewd. Minerva glanced away but could not resist looking back at her mother.

“Does this farmer have something to do with it?”

“He’s not exactly a farmer as such…”

“So, it is to do with a man?”

She should probably lie to her mother. Try to think of something, anything that would call for her to return to Scotland. It was insanity to go again so soon. She would not even dare ask Mary to accompany her after such a hard journey. There were other servants who could accompany her. It would be exhausting, yet again, but it was no good—all this time travelling home and then finally getting back to London had given her too much time to miss him. It was, it was terrifying—maybe more terrifying than half of her fears—but she needed to know…

She needed to know how Lachlan felt about her. For certain.

Minerva nodded slowly.

Mama took a slow sip of her tea. She lowered the cup with a gentle clatter that made Minerva jump. “I always hoped you might find someone who understands you. Does he?”

“Yes, Mama. He understands me better than anyone.”

“And you believe he loves you? And he will be an honest and good man?” Her mother drew in a breath. “You are not intending to elope, are you?” Her tone became sharp.

“Not at all, I promise. And I know he loves me.”

“Then why did he let you go? Can he not look after you?”

Minerva giggled. “He is a wealthy man indeed. He can certainly look after me. But he believed we needed more time.”

“Time?” Her mother scoffed. “How typically masculine.” She sighed. “I am not certain that I am happy you have been effectively courting without your brother’s permission. But, then, when has anyone in the family ever done anything the normal way?”

“Does this mean you will not object to me returning to Scotland?”

“Have another day or so to rest. It will take you that long to prepare anyway. And you shall go with several servants this time. If this man had time to court you, it sounds as though Mary was not keeping as close an eye on you as she should have done.”

“Yes, Mama.” At this point, Minerva probably would have agreed to taking an entire household of servants. Just so long as she could see Lachlan again. She could not say what would happen when she saw him again, but all she knew was that she must. Nothing would hold her back from the thing she wanted anymore. And she wanted Lachlan more than anything she had ever wanted before.

Chapter Fifteen

Lachlan paused on the hill to glance back at the farmhouse. He could have ridden home, he supposed, but he needed the exercise.

Needed to rid himself of the memories.

No, that was not it. The last thing he wanted to do was forget Minerva. He suspected he’d keep that sweet, English lass in his heart forever, even if she never sent a letter as promised or returned to see him. But if he was to return to life and embrace it just as he had vowed, he could not spend another several weeks thinking of her.

He went to twist away from the view of the farmhouse and paused, scowling. Narrowing his gaze, he watched the vehicle travel briskly along the dry track. He blinked several times and waited for the glinting sun to cease, catching on the livery and masking the crest upon it.