"Ireland," she murmured, "Tis an Irish name." As if on cue, one of the infants began to fuss and she pulled Niamh out of her basket to comfort. She was gentle with the little one, laying her up against her shoulder and rubbing her back softly. She did not look at the man for the moment while she was tending to the girl, but then gave a sharp look at his observations that she was in trouble. Of course she was in trouble, but not the kind of trouble he ought to be helping her for.

"I was jilted." she said bluntly. "I'm afraid a scandle was caused by me nearly elopin' with the clockmaker. Ye don't really need to be helping someone like me out. I'm trouble." And it was true to her that she was trouble even though she really wasn't most of the time.