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class do?”
    Robbie clenched his jaw for the briefest of moments before he answered. “Of course. As long as I had an heir and a spare, my wife could take as many lovers as she liked.”
    Robbie marched across the room to the cabinet, then turned to face his friend. “Obviously, I should have lied to you, and her. I should have said that of course I would be faithful. That I’d never even look at another woman.
    â€œBut I didn’t. So if you’d rather not represent me in this, I’ll find another solicitor who will. With you or without you, Gordo, I’m suing Moira McMurdaugh for breaking our engagement.”
    Gordon regarded Robbie steadily. While Robbie never made any reference to what had happened at school, Gordon could never forget what he owed Robbie McStuart.
    And if it was the same woman he’d rescued from the tree and kissed?
    He still owed Robbie his career. “Of course I’ll represent you, Robbie.”

Chapter Three
    T hree days later, Moira leaned over the pedestal table in the book-lined library, studying the builder’s drawings of the future school, as well as his notations. She wanted to be sure that she was right before she addressed the prosperous middle-aged man standing before her with his thumbs in his vest pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels.
    She was, but having dealt with tradesmen for many years, she didn’t begin with a direct accusation. That would only lead to confrontation, arguments, denials and, eventually, the pronouncement that women couldn’t be expected to understand business or the arithmetic that went with it.
    â€œMr. Stamford,” she began, “I must confess that I find your estimates rather…excessive.”
    The plump man merely smiled with frustrating condescension. “Perhaps, my lady, we should wait for yourfather’s return from Glasgow. He’d due back today, is he not?”
    â€œYes, he is,” she replied, hoping with all her heart he would return as promised and hadn’t met any of his friends who had, in the past, led him astray. “However, the school is my responsibility, not his.”
    Her statement didn’t appear to make any difference to the builder, for the man continued to regard her as if she were merely an overgrown child, and one incapable of understanding simple addition and multiplication, too. “I’m sure, as a former man of business, your father will be able to comprehend the figures better than a young lady. You mustn’t trouble your pretty head with such things as measurements and structure, square feet and raw materials,” Mr. Stamford continued with that same insufferable patronage. “Perhaps you don’t understand, Mr. Stamford, that as the daughter of a man of business who’s been keeping household accounts for ten years, ever since my mother died, I’m not incapable of calculating totals and expenditures,” she said, determined not to let this man think he could flatter her into believing that his estimates of the costs of materials were reasonable when they were so obviously not. “Nor, having had considerable work done on this house, am I ignorant of the costs involved when refurbishing a building. I find your estimate of the price for the necessary materials for the school and labor excessive. You’re building a school, after all, not a manor house.”
    The man’s cheeks puffed out with an annoyed huff. “Far be it from me to contradict a lady. However, ifone wishes to use the best materials—and I was under the impression you did—then one has to pay accordingly.”
    â€œI want the best for the purpose,” she clarified. “The prices you’re quoting would seem to indicate you’re using wood and stone more suitable for a cathedral than a village school. We recently had the dining room of this house panelled in mahogany brought especially from Jamaica, Mr. Stamford, and