A fine flush crept over Lady Dalrymple’s face: “You are hard,” she said.
“Maybe,” replied Delia. “I am different of late—perhaps I am hard, I do not know.”
She caught the other woman’s eyes on her and flushed, then broke desperately and swiftly into speech.
“I have come to discover if the Macdonalds of Glencoe have taken the oaths to the government.”
“Ah,” said Lady Dalrymple. “You have friends among them? These Macdonalds—who are they?”
Delia bent her head.
“I wish to know if they are safe or no from the vengeance of—the government.”
Lady Dalrymple sank into her chair again, a flutter of ribbons and lace, her blue eyes held a curious look. “If they have testified allegiance, they are beyond the law,” she said. “So I have heard; I know little of it.”
“’Tis, madam, what I which to discover: the Secretary for Scotland must know.”
Lady Dalrymple lifted her lovely hand and dropped it again.