My Fair Lily (23 page)

He read it again, unable to believe that the old man had accepted a hastily sent invitation from a family of no consequence, from the very
upstart he’d just banished from the Royal Society. But this was
precisely the sort of generous thing Lily would do, extend an invitation to the
old curmudgeon who had treated her unfairly. She’d done it for Meggie.

She’d done it for him.

“Jasper,” he said, turning to the lumpy beast stretched out beside the hearth, “you have excellent taste in women.” He walked
over and scratched him behind the ears. “But I can’t marry her. It isn’t only that she’s English. She’s very close to her family. How can I take her so far away from her parents and sisters? And she’s a delicate thing. She’d never adapt to the harsh Highlands weather.”

Jasper didn’t seem in the least impressed or convinced.

“And I’m not about to take her into my heart while some unknown enemy is out there trying to kill me. What if he goes after
Lily again? I can’t let the lass get hurt.” Which was why he’d instructed Homer Barrow to hire another of his Bow Street
colleagues to watch over Lily.

Still unimpressed.

“Bah, what do you know, anyway? You’re just a dog.” He rose and walked across the room to dress.

Jasper began to howl at Ewan.
Wroolf, wrooiditoolf.
His dog voice had the oddest inflection. Sounded as though Jasper was calling him an idiot. Perhaps he was, but he wasn’t about to let a damn dog tell him so. “Shut up, ye hairy looby.”

Wroolf, wrooiditoolf.

Jasper had called him an idiot again. “Enough, Jasper. I need you to behave. And if you’re so damned smart, then tell me why this enemy of mine went after Lily? Not Meggie or any other Cameron. Lily. Why her?”

***

The Italian singer finished his third song to loud applause, and
although Lily was enjoying the evening, she wished Ewan were here to enjoy the Simmington’s affair with her. Meggie was having a
wonderful time, no doubt because Lily’s young and dashing cousin,
William Farthingale, was paying her particular attention.

Also, Meggie had walked in on her grandfather’s arm and been introduced as his granddaughter, and any relative of a duke was certain to dazzle at any society gathering. The crowd mistook
Meggie’s panic as delightfully sweet shyness. That, along with her pretty features, enhanced her reputation as a newcomer of note.

Lily wasn’t certain what to make of the old duke. He was a puzzle to her. Though cold and arrogant, he’d permitted Ewan, Meggie, and Jasper into his home without complaint and he was
now showing off Meggie to his friends as though they’d been a close family for years. He’d even permitted Lily to visit Meggie at Lotheil Court (though she was still banned from the Royal Society), and he’d just dined with Eloise and the Farthingales in the Farthingale home.

The duke had said nothing about lifting the Royal Society ban and she hadn’t pressed him on the matter. It certainly was not a topic to be discussed at the supper table. Her mother had worked hard to make an elegant presentation, and Lily had possessed the presence not to ruin it by raising the volatile subject.

Everything in its own good time, her mother often said. Lily had to believe that kindness shown toward the duke would eventually be reciprocated. Not that she was expecting to improve her standing
with the duke. Not at all. The point of kindness was to bestow it, not to expect or demand gratitude from others. Still, she hoped to mellow the
duke by setting a good example. He didn’t need to bribe her to help make the Camerons a family. All he needed to do was ask. She was doing it anyway, for Meggie’s sake. “Affection has to be earned, not bought.”

“Did you say something, Lily?”

“No, Meggie. Just thinking aloud.”

“Mr. Giancarlo’s about to start singing again. We’d better take our seats. I’ve saved one for Ewan.”

Lily glanced around. “He isn’t here yet.”

“He will be. He said he’d attend and he always keeps his word.”

As if on cue, there was a sudden flurry of excitement by the doorway. Lily didn’t need to see Ewan to know that he’d just walked in. The expression on the faces of the females in the room gave it
away. Did she look like that? All moon-eyed and breathless
whenever he drew near?

He made his way through the crowd toward them.
Oh, crumpets.
He was wearing a kilt. Typical Ewan, making a scene... goodness, he
looked handsome... looked better in a frock than she did. Looked more manly and rugged than any other man in the room, even
though all the other men were wearing trousers. How did he manage that?

He’d done it on purpose, swaggered in dressed in his Highlander garb to purposely stick his Scottish thumb in his grandfather’s eye, as if to say “I’m a Scot and proud of it. I refuse to accept your
Sassenach
ways.”

Too bad. His grandfather had been on his best behavior this evening. Ewan was about to ruin it.

“Ewan, thank goodness you’re here,” Meggie called to him. “Come sit by us. We’ve saved you a chair.”

“Sorry I’m late.” He bussed his sister’s cheek, and then turned to
Lily and grinned. “Och, lass. You’re scowling at me. You
disapprove?” He glanced down at his kilt.

“Yes. No. You look wonderful, of course.”

He grinned again. “Of course.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “You could have worn trousers.”

“Aye, I could have. I didn’t want to.” He glanced at Meggie, who’d turned away to speak to some elderly friends of Eloise’s.
“How’s my sister managing? She looks happy. Thank you, lass. I know it’s all your doing.”

She sighed, unable to remain irritated with Ewan while he gazed at her in that tender manner, as though her meager assistance meant the world to him. He was being polite to her, that was all. He was so sure of himself, so comfortable in his own skin. He had to be, or he’d
never have worn the kilt, or managed to carry it off as though every other man in the room was improperly dressed. He fit in everywhere. She felt comfortable only around her family and books.
She wasn’t all that good with people. “Meggie deserves all the credit.”

He was about to say more when someone called to him in a deep, Scottish brogue, the greeting filled with lots of rolling r’s.
“Och, Ewan. Therrrre ye arrre, laddie.”

A big man with bright red hair strode toward him. Ewan seemed
genuinely pleased to see the fellow, who appeared to be a few years older than himself. “Archie, I heard you were in town. Come join
us.”

Archibald MacCorkindale turned out to be one of Ewan’s close
friends, or at least Lily thought so by the hearty manner in which they pounded each other on the back. “Callie’s here, too,” Archie said. “She’s eager to see you.”

They had only moments before the singer resumed his recital, but in those few moments, Lily was introduced to Archie’s niece, Caledonia MacCorkindale, a beautiful blonde with gray-green eyes, a melodic laugh, and a cheerful outlook.

Cheerfulness was overrated, Lily thought.

And somehow, in the rush to take their seats when the bell chimed and the Italian singer began to clear his throat, Lily ended up
seated in the front row, wedged between the elderly Duke of Lotheil and the
young and rakish Duke of Edgeware, while Ewan ended up two rows back between Meggie and Caledonia, who was sitting
unnecessarily close to him. She was all over him, to be precise.

“We hate her, don’t we?” Dillie said, leaning across the Duke of Edgeware to pat her hand.

Lily nodded. “Vehemently.”

And if Lily hadn’t been so distracted by petty jealousy—honestly, books were so much easier—she might have wondered how Ian Markham, the notorious Duke of Edgeware, came to be
seated between
her and Dillie. And might have wondered why Dillie felt so
comfortable beside him when everyone knew that the dangerously handsome duke was not to be let near their unmarried daughters.

Lily hurried into the garden when the recital ended. Her head
was pounding and her heart ached. Dillie followed her outside.
“They’re merely friends,” she said, trying her best to be supportive.

“I have a headache, that’s all. I wasn’t thinking of Ewan’s friends.”

Dillie nudged her. “Yes, you were. Who could miss the way Miss Corkstopper was clinging to Ewan’s arm? I’ll put a laxative in her wine. That ought to keep her occupied for the duration of this party.”

“Don’t you dare!” Despite her desire to wallow in pity, Lily laughed. She knew her sister was capable of doing just such a thing. “I’ll be fine, Dillie. You needn’t poison Ewan’s sweetheart.”

“Who said she was his sweetheart? Did he say so? I’ll poison his
wine too, if he’s so foolish as to be taken in by her outward appearance. I saw her eyes narrow when she looked at you. She’s a
cat with claws bared and that merry politeness is just an act.”

Lily wished the evening would end. She’d lost the Royal Society.
Never had Ewan to lose, that point made painfully clear by the
arrival
of the beautiful Callie. She wasn’t used to all this turmoil in her
heart. How did others bear it?

“Seems Ewan’s smarter than you give him credit for. Here he comes. See, he’s looking for you and not that wicked Corky MacCorkstopper.”

“She isn’t wicked. And her name’s Callie MacCorkindale.”

“That’s what I said. I’ll leave you in his capable hands.” She slipped away.

Lily held her breath as Ewan approached. She pretended not to
notice him, instead busying herself by gazing at the stars. It was a beautiful night. She would have noticed sooner if not for fretting over Ewan. The bright silver moon shone like a diamond amid a tapestry of sparkling stars. It was a perfect night for moonlight kisses.

A cool breeze ruffled across her cheeks and through the loose curls of her hair. However, Lily could only feel the warmth of Ewan’s body, so close to hers as he came up beside her and crossed
his arms over his chest. “You shouldn’t be out here on your own, lass.”

“I’m not.” She glanced up at him and smiled, aching to touch those broad, flexed muscles. “You’re with me.”

He wasn’t smiling as he said, “That’s even more dangerous.”

“Why?” Was he going to kiss her?
Yes. Please.
But he did not care for her romantically. He merely considered her a friend, even though they’d shared a few spectacular kisses. She’d been the one to initiate each one. He had merely gone along.

“Lass, it’s dark. You’re alone. Who knows what evil is lurking out here?”

“We’re in the Simmingtons’ garden. There are sixty people close by in the music room.”

“None of whom would notice if someone came up from behind, clamped a hand over your mouth, and dragged you into the shadows.”

Lily’s smile faded. “My, you’re morbid this evening. Have you discovered something about those villains who attacked you at the horse auction?”

“No, but I intend to.” He stared at her hard, and then ran a hand
across the back of his neck, something he tended to do when
perplexed about an issue. “They attacked you as well.”

“That still troubles you?”

“Of course, lass. I won’t stop thinking about it until I figure it out. Why did they come after you?”

“I’ve also given it thought since we discussed it this morning. I’m certain it was simply a matter of mistaken identity. Those horrid men mistook me for Meggie.”

“You’re assuming those wharf rats were hired to send me a warning. Problem is, I don’t know of anyone who wishes to harm me... now that we’ve ruled out my own family.”

She placed a hand on his arm, unable to resist comforting him. There was pain in his voice when he spoke of his family. “I’m glad
they’re innocent. Even Despicable Grandfather, so Meggie ought to be safe now. No one will dare approach her while she’s in his company. And he always travels with a contingent of footmen.
They’d stop any stranger who got near her. When she isn’t with your grandfather, she’s with you.”

“Then there’s you.”

Lily shook her head. “Since that incident with Desmond, your grandfather’s footmen have been with us wherever we go. To the shops. To the park.”

“Only when you’re with Meggie. Whenever you’re
not
with Meggie, there’s no one protecting you.”

“But I’ve assured you that I’ll be more careful. Oh, I see.” He was pointing out that he did not plan to protect her, that he couldn’t protect her since he was going to be busy with Corky MacCorkstopper now that she was in town. “You needn’t worry
about me.” She reached into the fashionably styled sash that was designed into her gown and circled just beneath her breasts. “I have this.” She held up a hat pin.

“A meager weapon, and of no use if you’re attacked from behind. The first thing any self-respecting assailant would do is grab your hands.”

Lily sighed, wishing he would grab her hands and drag her into his embrace. She wouldn’t struggle. Indeed, she was leaning so close, her body was more than halfway there. “Consider me duly warned. May we please speak of something else? Did you know that your grandfather and Meggie joined us for supper? He’s been wonderful to Meggie all evening.”