Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Edith woke before the bells could announce the morning, Aaron’s face lingering in her thoughts.
Her eyes traced the seams of the bed canopy above her as they always did, the familiar stitch pattern offering her no respite from her thoughts.
Heaven help me.
She lay still for a moment, listening for nothing in particular.
The castle was noisy. The distant sound of preparations drifted through the walls, bringing the chaos of the morning with it. And yet, above all that, Edith could not help but feel the restlessness coiling within her, refusing to give way.
’Tis today.
It was the morning of the harvest festival. The final outing after which her fake betrothal to Aaron would be over.
Since the month began, Edith had waited and counted down religiously until this day. But now that it had arrived, she could barely summon the relief that she had expected to feel.
’Tis a good day.
The thought was intended as a reminder. More for the purpose of convincing herself.
She pushed herself upright, the blankets falling away as she swung her legs over the side of the bed with more enthusiasm than she felt.
The cold stone floor met her bare feet, and she winced slightly, welcoming the slight discomfort, for it grounded her in something other than her racing thoughts.
She crossed gingerly to the window, pulling open the shutters to let in the cold morning air. She inhaled, filling her lungs before staring out at the fields beyond.
It was just as she had expected. Servants moved through the kitchen door, pushing carts as they organized the provisions for the feast that would follow the day’s celebration.
Edith imagined the village preparing as well, the entire Highlands gathering for the largest celebration of the season.
It should have filled her with more anticipation than she’d felt before the village fair. Instead, she felt slightly unmoored.
She pressed her palm against the cold stone of the window frame and exhaled slowly, watching her breath cloud faintly in the morning air.
Everything she had ever wanted was now within her grasp: her final lesson to become a healer; enough money to get by; and, if Aaron kept his word, a small cottage in her mother’s village where she would work.
It was all she’d dreamed about since she’d been old enough to learn what dreams were. The quiet independence she had craved since she’d been old enough to understand what it meant to truly belong nowhere. But now, she was no longer certain what that dream meant.
She let out a sigh, her chest tightening as her gaze fixed on nothing in particular.
At some point during the pretense, the shape of her dreams had quietly begun to change.
She could hardly imagine herself living alone in the Lowlands, at the heart of her mother’s village, where no one knew her name.
She could not imagine a life without Scarlett or Violet.
And strangely, in the dream that had woken her this morning, she had seen his face too.
Aaron… Why did I dream of him?
A knock sounded at her door, and she spun around, responding with more urgency out of a desperate need to avoid the question she had just asked herself.
Scarlett swept in as soon as she opened the door, almost squealing with contagious excitement.
“Edith!” Her voice was several octaves higher than normal, her arms full of fabric so fine it seemed to catch even the dim morning light. “It has arrived.”
Edith’s breath caught.
The gown the seamstress had measured her for weeks ago now lay draped over Scarlett’s arms in all of its glory.
“Och,” she breathed, stepping closer, her eyes widening in awe.
The fabric was a deep, rich green, threaded through with subtle gold embroidery along the bodice and sleeves—the clan colors rendered with a quiet elegance that managed to be striking without announcing themselves too loudly.
The skirts fell in layers that would move beautifully when she walked, and the neckline, modest but flattering, had clearly been cut with careful attention to her exact measurements.
“’Tis beautiful,” Edith said, her fingers trailing reverently along the embroidered sleeve.
“’Tis more than beautiful,” Scarlett corrected, laying the gown carefully across the bed. “Pray tell, what instructions did ye give the seamstress to have her make a dress this perfect?”
A small smile formed on Edith’s lips. She looked at Violet, who had entered the room behind Scarlett, then back to her best friend, hesitant to admit that she had not given the seamstress any instructions.
“It wasnae me,” she said quietly.
Scarlett’s brows shot up in disbelief. “Daenae tell me this was me braither’s doing.”
Edith nodded slightly, her smile widening at Scarlett’s astonishment as well as the beauty of the dress.
“The Laird has great taste,” Violet said from behind.
Edith’s smile grew even wider despite herself.
She had not spoken more than a few words to Aaron since their time together in the carriage. She had barely even looked at him over the past few days. And yet here she was, grinning from ear to ear over a dress he had had made for her weeks ago.
“I cannae believe it, truly,” Scarlett said. “’Tis surprising that the man kens a single thing about fashion beyond ‘nothing excessive.’”
Edith laughed at that.
Aaron had said those exact two words to the seamstress, but she was talented enough to create a stunning dress out of them, and quite frankly, she deserved all the praise he was now getting.
“I shall have ye ken that he said precisely that,” she admitted.
“Of course he did.” Scarlett shook her head fondly. “Me braither has the romantic instincts of a stubborn ox.”
Violet giggled from where she stood, and only then did Edith notice that she was holding a small bundle in her hands.
“What do ye have?” she asked curiously.
Violet stepped forward. “Wild lavender oil, me Lady,” she said, opening the carefully wrapped vials. “I pressed some of it last night, after ye asked.”
Edith smiled, taking the small glass vials from her, and the scent immediately filled the air between them.
“Thank ye, Violet,” she said. “Truly.”
“Will ye wear it today?” Violet asked.
Edith nodded. “Ye ken I wear it every day,” she said, still smiling. “It suits me.”
Her smile wavered slightly as a memory resurfaced. Aaron had said those words about her wild lavender bouquet—that it suited her.
She hesitated. “I thought… perhaps ye might put a vial in the Laird’s chamber as well.”
Only after the words left her mouth did she remember her best friend’s sharp senses.
Scarlett willnae let this pass without comment.
“Aye, me Lady.” Violet smiled. “I shall see to it before the festival begins.” She curtsied and slipped out of the room, with one of the vials cradled carefully in her hand, leaving Edith alone with Scarlett and the gown spread across the bed between them.
As soon as the door closed, Scarlett turned to her, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“So,” she drawled, settling on the edge of the bed, her expression far too knowing for Edith’s comfort. “Ye wish for me braither’s chamber to smell of yer favorite scent.”
“’Tis only a kindness,” Edith said quickly. “He mentioned likin’ it once, and I thought…” she trailed off, suddenly uncertain how to finish without revealing more than she intended.
“Edith Woods,” Scarlett teased, her voice carrying the particular fondness she reserved for moments when she had caught her friend in something undeniable. “Ye are tryin’ very hard to convince yerself this is nothin’.”
Edith’s cheeks warmed.
She busied herself with smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle from the gown to avoid Scarlett’s eyes. It was then that her best friend’s gaze drifted to the open notebook on her bedside table.
“What is that?” Scarlett asked, already reaching for it.
“Nay—” Edith moved too late.
Scarlett had already lifted the notebook, her expression shifting from curiosity to something far more delighted as she leafed through the pages.
Edith closed her eyes, her cheeks reddening in embarrassment.
She had been trying to study when she found herself drawing Aaron again, but unlike the last time, she had not been able to rip the pages out or throw them into the fire.
She told herself it was because the drawing shared a page with her notes, but it was not. And worse still, this drawing was unmistakably Aaron.
It was not a brief outline of his hand. This was a fuller, more complete portrait of his face, with the line of his jaw and the intensity of his gaze that she had spent entirely too long memorizing.
There were three more drawings after it, one for each sleepless night she’d spent since the fair.
“Edith.” Scarlett’s voice softened. “These are remarkable.”
“They are awful,” Edith said, reaching to take the notebook back. “I told ye before, me skills are nothin’ compared to—”
“They arenae awful.” Scarlett held the drawing slightly out of reach, her eyes scanning it again. “Ye cannae possibly be awful at this when ye make me braither look so handsome that I scarcely recognized him at first.”
Edith groaned, dropping her hands. “Daenae tease me.”
“I am nae teasin’ ye.” Scarlett set the drawing down carefully, her expression turning more serious as she reached for Edith’s hand. “Edith, look at me.”
Edith lifted her eyes reluctantly.
“I need ye to tell me something,” Scarlett said, her grip firm but gentle. “And I need ye to answer honestly, because I ken ye well enough to ken when ye are hidin’ from me.”
Edith felt her pulse quicken. She knew what was coming. The same question she herself had been avoiding answering. The same question that had her questioning her dream since the fair.
“Is this still a ruse?” Scarlett asked quietly.
“The betrothal. The arrangement. All of it.” She paused, her gaze searching Edith’s face with the particular intensity of someone who had loved her since childhood and only truly wanted the truth, regardless of what it was.
“Or have ye developed feelings for me braither?”
The question hung in the air between them, more direct than anything Edith had allowed herself to consider, even in the privacy of her restless thoughts.
She opened her mouth. She was not certain, even now, what answer might come out. Perhaps she would deflect. Or perhaps, in the safety of Scarlett’s quiet presence, she might finally tell the truth in its entirety.
A sharp knock at the door interrupted her before she could decide.
“Edith! Scarlett!” Robert’s voice carried through the heavy wood, edged with an urgency that caused them both to straighten. “Ye must come now. Everyone is gathered, and Aaron is pacing a hole into the floor of the Great Hall.”
Scarlett’s eyes remained on Edith’s face for one beat longer, something gentle and knowing flickering in them.
“We are comin’,” she called back, though she did not immediately release Edith’s hand.
“Edith and Aaron are supposed to open the first dance,” Robert added through the door. “It cannae begin without ye.”
Scarlett’s mouth curled into a small smile. “It seems,” she said softly, still holding Edith’s eyes, “that our conversation will have to wait.”
She rose, gathering the gown carefully from the bed and holding it out to Edith with a gentleness that suggested something she did not say.
“Come,” she said. “Let us get ye dressed, Lady Hallow.”
Edith nodded, taking the gown even as her hand trembled slightly.
She did not correct her friend.