A Hellion at the Highland Court (The Highland Ladies #9) - Celeste Barclay Page 0,3

the other ladies indulged in.

Laurel discovered early on that to stand out at court in any way invited ridicule and gossip. Even though she and Madeline had struck up a friendship of sorts, Laurel wasn’t free from Madeline’s judgement and scathing comments. Madeline learned that Laurel’s tongue was just as sharp as her mind, so they rarely crossed swords. But when they did, the other ladies were quick to repeat all that they heard. The price of peace and her family’s reputation meant Laurel did what she could to blend in. It only added to the bitterness she clung to as a buoy against the consuming sadness she’d experienced when she left home. The court knew Laurel for her shrewishness; ironically, many considered her shallow for her style and what appeared to be an ever-new rotation of gowns. Only Madeline and Cairren knew the lengths she went to for her clothing.

At five shillings a yard, that was forty shillings, or two pounds. That’s a far sight better than spending ten pounds or more on a gown. I have plenty of thread to last me at least three kirtles, nae considering what I have for the embellishments. If I can have the gown made within the next sennight, then I can cut down ma old one. I can make what’s salvageable into smocks for the children at the almshouse, and the rest can be rags for ma courses. I’ll need to add fur cuffs and a hem to the new gown to keep the wool from fraying. At least it’s sturdy.

Laurel examined her work as the late morning sun flooded her chamber. She sat beside the window embrasure to see her stitches, but she’d sewn the same pattern so many times, she was positive she could do it while she was half asleep. She was fairly certain she had done so more than once. She needed the income she would earn from the three gowns she had stashed away at the bottom of her wardrobe and the embroidery she’d finished the night before. The money would pay for the gowns she needed for Christmas and Hogmanay. She still had several months, but she knew the merchants would increase their prices.

I shall look for Simon to sell the cuffs to this time. Samuel’s got a loose tongue that he flaps far too often. He nearly told Sarah Anne that the handkerchief she was buying came from me. The smarmy bitch is worse than Madeline ever was. Who could have known? How am I going to get the three kirtles to the haberdasher without crumpling them horribly? Why do I keep doing this? Two fit in ma satchel without too much concern, but three has it bulging at the seams. After all this time, ye’d think I would learn. That’s how Cairren found out in the first place.

Let me finish this before the midday meal, then I’ll join the other ladies in the queen’s solar until she retires during the prince’s midafternoon sleep. I can slip out to the market then and be back before dusk. Monty is likely with the men anyway, so I willna need to avoid ma guards. I can be back in time to dress for the evening meal. Right then, lass.

Laurel may have ridden herself of her Highland burr when she spoke aloud, but in her mind, she would forever be a Highlander.

I’m going to bluidy well murder this wretch. I swear, if he tries to haggle me down one more penny, I shall reach across the counter, snatch him by his scruffy collar, and shake him till his teeth fall loose.

Laurel gritted her teeth as she listened to the condescending prattle the haberdasher spewed as he spoke to Laurel as though she were a peasant. She wore her plainest kirtle and covered her hair as though she were a matron, a veil hanging to her chin to disguise her face. She was careful not to sound like a lady, but not so much that she might accidentally sound like a Highlander. Like courtiers, the residents and merchants of Stirling would perceive being a Highlander as worse than a being Lowland peasant. For all that the non-Highlanders claimed Stirling was the gateway to the Highlands, it was far more like the Lowlands. And that included believing all Highlanders were savages. She knew her brother’s arrival that morning had sparked the merchant’s acquiescence as much from the plaid he sported as his towering height and brawny arms. The massive