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“What business are you in, Isaac?” Mr. Byrne asked, sounding at least a little genuine in his curiosity.

“I’ve a farm up near Killeshandra.” Isaac pulled himself up. He was proud of all he’d accomplished. “I’ve two-hundred acres of decent soil, good crops, a few animals to my name.”

Mr. Byrne nodded, seemingly impressed. Isaac would not have guessed that.

“And how many tenants do you have on that two-hundred acres?” He looked over at Miss Kilchrest. “A man can make a very good living if he divides his land up amongst enough families.” He held his lapels, chest thrust out. “Rents can make a man wealthy.”

“I’ve no tenants,” Isaac said firmly, eying the man’s signs of wealth with growing dislike. “I’ll not be the reason dozens of poor souls are forced onto plots of land too small to support them. I’ll be responsible for their deaths if we’ve another potato blight.”

Mr. Byrne looked him up and down dismissively. “Is that old tired tune still being played?”

Isaac set his shoulders. “Not by the dead, it’s not. But those of us lucky enough to have survived the famine don’t intend to forget it soon. Nor will we forget those who grew wealthy on the backs of the dying.”

To her credit, Miss Kilchrest looked a little uncomfortable, though whether she found Mr. Byrne’s insensitivity or Isaac’s proud determination more upsetting, he didn’t know.

“Now, if ye’ll—”

His words stopped on the instant. Across the room, Alice stood at the sideboard setting out plates of teacakes, wearing the frill-edged aprons all the other maids wore.

She doesn’t work here.

Then again, he felt certain there were a great many more servants there that night than on his previous visit. The Kilchrests had taken on temporary help.

Had Alice taken the position out of necessity? What could have happened to put her in such financial hardship?

Without a parting word to his hostess or her infuriating friend, Isaac took a step in Alice’s direction.

He got no further than that. A footman, tall and broad, stepped directly in front of him, holding a salver of champagne glasses.

Isaac had never been one for anything but a strong mug of ale from the local pub or perhaps a pint of home brew.

Yet, he found his eyes drifting back to the bubbling drink.

The glasses were shaking enough to be worrisome.

He looked up at the footman and recognized him right off. Twas Alice’s Billy. Was he trying to keep Isaac away from her? He’d have a fight on his hands if that were the case.

Isaac stood as tall as he could stretch, still not coming close to the man’s height, and set his shoulders. But a closer look stopped any challenging words he might have tossed at Billy.

The man stood, watching his tray of glasses, biting at his lip, brow deeply creased. His gaze flicked briefly at Isaac. “I can’t make ’em stop shaking ’round,” he whispered.

Something was odd in the way he spoke, even the way he stood and held himself. Isaac couldn’t put his finger on just what was unusual in it, but the combination deflated his temper on the instant.

The glasses trembled all the more. Billy looked more than nervous as he eyed his tray of drinks; he seemed actually fearful.

“Do ya need to set those down?” Isaac asked quietly but urgently.

Even Billy’s head shake was a touch clumsy, almost like a child who still hadn’t mastered the moving of his own body. “The housekeeper said I was to carry it ’til all the drinks was gone. They’re not gone.”

They’ll be gone quick enough if ya drop them. Isaac looked to Miss Kilchrest. Surely she’d see the difficulty and give Billy permission to set down his load. She watched Billy and his tray with misgivings, but made no move to intervene.

Alice seemed to have noticed the difficulty. She abandoned her teacakes and crossed toward them.

Isaac whispered quickly to Billy. “Set the glasses down. Better that then letting them slip.”

Billy’s hands only grew shakier. His face turned equal parts pale and red. “She’s wearing her mean eyes.”

Isaac, himself, took a step back at the hardness in Miss Kilchrest’s expression.

“You bumbling fool,” she hissed at Billy. “Anything you break will come out of your wages.”

’Twas the first time Isaac had ever heard Miss Kilchrest speak sharply to anyone. Though he’d had more than a few uncharitable thoughts where Billy Kettle was concerned, he found he didn’t at all like Miss Kilchrest’s reprimand.

Billy’s face crumbled. “I don’t have money. I can’t pay for it.”

“Ya won’t have to.” Alice had arrived in time to carefully take the tray from Billy’s hands. She set it on an obliging table without the tray shaking in the slightest.

Miss Kilchrest set her hands on her hips and waited not a single moment after Alice turned back before correcting her. “He’ll not be paid for work someone else is doing for him.”

Alice didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate. “He was not hired to serve yer guests drinks. Yer housekeeper was told in detail of his limitations. If ya have objections to how he performed this duty that was not his own, ye’d best take it up with that bothersome woman.”

Miss Kilchrest’s face pulled tight. Who was this sour woman?

“How dare you speak to me that way.” She spoke through clenched jaw. “I do not pay servants to be insolent.”

Alice managed to look down her nose at Miss Kilchrest, despite being shorter. “And the pitiful sum I’m being paid to be here tonight is not worth yer shrew’s tongue. Good night to ya, Miss Kilchrest. Happy Christmas and all that.”

Isaac knew a moment of pride hearing her speak with such strength of purpose. Alice was no wilting flower to shrivel at the slightest difficulty. A country lass, she was.

“Come, then, Billy. We’ll take up the matter of yer wages with the magistrate if we must.”

Billy’s tall frame bent under what looked like embarrassment and disappointment. Alice took off her frilly apron and pressed it into Miss Kilchrest’s hands before walking away with Billy, her hand resting on his back.

Isaac glanced back at Miss Kilchrest. Her gaze settled uncomfortably on Mr. Byrne. “I told mother not to hire that man. He’s simple , you know. That kind always bumbles everything.”

He’s simple . That kind always bumbles everything.

That kind. The words repeated in his thoughts as he walked away from the Kilchrests’ party.

Many of his neighbors were simple people, though not in the same way.

They were the very best Ireland had to offer, the salt of the earth.

Would Miss Kilchrest hiss at and insult them for their simplicity?

Would she turn his home into a place where none of his neighbors or family would feel welcome?

Miss Kilchrest had added to Billy’s pain. Alice had come immediately to his rescue.

Miss Kilchrest hadn’t cared in the least about the flowers he’d given her a few week’s back. Alice had smiled sweetly at the simple wild bloom he’d picked for her at the lake.

He’d spent four months trying to be the person Miss Kilchrest would notice and care for. In those same four months he’d never needed to be anything but himself with Alice.

His walk through Cavan Town drove home two indisputable truths.

Pursuing Miss Kilchrest had been a mistake from the beginning. And he’d been in love with Alice Wheatley for months but was too much of a fool to have realized it.