My Fair Lily (6 page)

She shook her head sadly, wondering how this poor man was going to survive in London. He had no sense of etiquette and an impossibly casual regard for property rights. No doubt he was still homeless. “Did Lady Dayne find you a place to stay?”

His lips began to twitch, tugging upward in a smile. “Och, lass. You’ve a good heart, but you’re obviously misguided.”

“Me, misguided? It’s you who needs to be taken firmly in hand.”

His eyes glistened with mirth and he cast her a wickedly attractive grin. “Lass, you ought to lift your pretty nose out of your books on occasion. You know shockingly little about men. And I wouldn’t offer to take a man
firmly in hand
if I were you. It will get you into a lot of trouble.”

“I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”

He sighed. “Didn’t think so. No matter. The point is, you have no need to save me. I happen to be staying at Lotheil Court.”

“Are you visiting a relative who works there? A butler? A groomsman? Perhaps the duke’s man of affairs, which would explain how you got your hands on the duke’s stationery. Mr. Cameron, was the duke’s man the one who introduced you to Lady
Dayne?”

“Lily, there’s something you should know.”

She refused to pay attention, her mind too busy concocting a plan to keep him safe, though why she should worry about him or
his friendly lump of a beast was beyond her.

“—Duke of Lotheil,” was all she heard as he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her lightly.

“What?”

“I’m the duke’s grandson.”

“Oh, dear. Mr. Cameron…”

“And the present Laird Carnach.”

“I…” Her voice trailed off. This was worse than she’d thought.
Next he’d claim to be Robert the Bruce.

“Lass, why are you looking at me like that? I’m no’ mad.”

Yes, he was. Mad as a hatter.

“Well, it was delightful to see you again, Mr. Cameron. Oh, look
at the time. We really must be going.” Which she might have done if she hadn’t tripped over Jasper’s big, lumpy body just then, losing her balance and falling flat on her back onto the riding trail’s soft
earth… soft, muddy earth still damp from this morning’s brief rain.

Lick, lick.
Jasper was over her in a trice and running his tongue along her face, no doubt intending to be friendly, but did his tongue have to be so… wet?

“Lily…” Ewan Cameron murmured with a soft, strangled laugh,
gently pushing Jasper aside. He knelt beside her, putting his big hands on her body as he carefully helped her to her feet. “We must stop meeting like this.”

Lily rarely was at a loss for words, but she couldn’t seem to put two words together at the moment. Bits of Jasper’s drool were slipping off her chin, her clothes were stained and wet, and her cheeks were on fire. In truth, her entire body was on fire. The pulse
at the base of her throat was racing as fast as a horse cart barreling down a steep hill.

Nothing to do with Mr. Cameron. Or the fact that his hands were still settled on each side of her waist. Or that her own hands were on his rock-hard arms, clinging to them for support… goodness they were hard.

“You’re covered in dog hair,” Dillie added unhelpfully.

“Och, lass. I’ve done it again, ruined your new clothes.”

She finally found her voice. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me,” he said in a husky brogue that sent her bodily organs into happy spasms. “I’ll replace your riding habit too.”

ANOTHER BOX ARRIVED
for Lily the following morning.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” Dillie asked, hastily closing their bedroom door and presenting the package to her.

“No. I know what’s inside.” She turned away and began to fuss about the room, straightening drawers and pulling aside the cream lace curtains to allow in the sunshine. Despite an earlier rain, it
seemed another beautiful day in the making.

“If you won’t look inside, then I will.”

“Don’t!”

But it was too late, for Dillie had lifted the cover and was digging into the box. “Oh, my! Madame de Bressard must have charged him a fortune.” She shook out an exact replica of the tea
gown Jasper had ruined the other day.

Lily glanced at the shimmering yellow silk. Goodness, it was beautiful. However, she wasn’t going to admit it to her sister, especially since Dillie was taking his side just to irk her. “Obviously, he can afford it.”

Dillie grinned. “You’re still angry with him.”

She stuffed her arms into the bare sleeves of an apricot-colored pelisse and buttoned it over her white frock. “Not at all. Why would I be angry with
Ewan
? Just because it turns out he really is the duke’s grandson? To think, I fretted over him!”

“Needlessly, as it turns out.”

“Nonetheless, I fretted! He might have been tossed into a
dungeon, locked up in chains, and left there to rot.”

“But there was no danger of it.”

“He ought to have advised me of that fact sooner.”

“He did, or at least he tried to. Does it matter who he is? He used his own funds and he’s got his own Scottish title… Laird something-or-other.”

“Laird Carnach.”

“Right, Laird whatever-you-said. And he’s a bachelor,” Dillie continued in that slow, pensive way their mother often used when contemplating her daughters and marriage. “If someone were to polish his
rough edges, he’d make quite the suitable catch.”

Lily glowered at her sister. “It certainly won’t be me. He laughed at me!”

“He did not.”

In truth, he’d appeared quite confused as she’d rambled on about her concerns, merely grinning in that infuriatingly charming way that set her internal organs tingling, as he listened to her declare that she’d spent a sleepless night worrying about him and whether he’d found a place to stay. He could have said something to stop her, but did he? No. Not a word. Instead, he burst out laughing when she offered to help him escape back to Scotland. That he’d just stared at her, seeming to devour her with that confident gaze of his while she made a fool of herself, still rankled.

“
Mo creach!
” he’d finally said, once more laughing out loud.
“You thought I was a card short of a full deck?”

Yes! She had. But a lady did not show it, even when the man she considered daft, unhinged as an old gate, thanked her for her good intentions by taking her face in his big hands and kissing her on the
nose. In public, no less!

“There’s a note in the box.”

“Rip it up.”

Dillie rolled her eyes. “I will not.” She ripped the seal off the envelope instead. “Oh, you’ll never guess what he wishes of you now.”

“Not funny.”

“I’m serious.”

Lily took the parchment out of her sister’s hands, read it, and gasped. “He wishes to know where we purchased our horses. What
sort of man asks a lady such a question?”

“I’d say, a man who wishes to know where we purchased our horses.”

She crumpled the note. “Dillie, you know what I mean.”

“Were you expecting a flowery apology from Ewan, Laird Something Unpronounceable with Lots of Rolling Rs?”

“No. And it’s Laird Carnach. It isn’t that hard to remember. Ewan, Laird Carnach, grandson of the Duke of Lotheil, and holder of probably a dozen unpronounceable titles. Did you know most Scots titles originated
in the time of the Druids, before the Roman, Dane, and Norman
invasions? Obviously, he’s the sort who speaks plainly,
revealing only what he
considers important to know. He also speaks directly. If he’s curious
about something, he simply asks. If he thinks something is funny, he laughs. If something strikes him as ridiculous, he promptly says so.”

“You’re right. The man is an utter fiend.”

“He has neither tact nor diplomacy. Just brutal honesty.”

“Since when is honesty to be frowned upon?”

Lily blushed. “It isn’t. But that isn’t my point.”

“Then what is? Oh, never mind. Tattersalls is running an auction next week. Uncle George plans to attend with Laurel. We can ask her to help Ewan pick out a suitable mount.”

“Go ahead,” Lily said, her chin shooting upward as she huffed. “Ask her, for I won’t.”

“Fine. I will. She knows all there is to know about horses. Her Brutus is one of the finest stallions in England. Ewan’s eyes will pop wide when he sees him.”

“Stop calling him Ewan. He isn’t our friend.”

Dillie wiggled her eyebrows. “Though you’d like him to be.”

Lily ignored the comment. “He probably ate in the stable with the duke’s grooms last night. Not that there’s anything wrong with
the notion, though society certainly frowns upon it.”

“We used to spend many a lovely afternoon helping Mrs. Mayhew bake pies and enjoyed the spoils afterward, didn’t we?”
Dillie sighed. “I don’t regret a bit of the time spent in the kitchen.”

“Nor do I. However, Mother would be horrified if she ever found
out. I suppose I sounded like her just now when complaining of Mr.
Cameron.”

“A lady’s place,” Dillie started in a high-pitched voice, a wicked
imitation of their beloved, but slightly scatterbrained, mother, “is not
in
a stifling kitchen. She’ll wilt under the heat of those bubbling pots
and blazing fires, and then no gentleman will have her.”

Lily’s frown faded into a chuckle as she joined in. “Don’t forget her remark about our hands. They must remain as delicate and unblemished
as a baby’s bottom,” she mimicked. “Perfect hands are the true mark of a
lady.”

“Of course, we’ll overlook the dreadful rash that afflicted Cousin
Harry’s little bottom last spring. Or Mother’s horror when you
sprained
your thumb sneaking that oversized Druid fertility god into our
room.”
Dillie placed a hand over her brow and pretended to swoon. “Oh,
the shame! The disgrace! Girls, fetch me my smelling salts!”

Lily burst into laughter. It was impossible to remain irritated with Dillie. She always knew how to tease her out of ill humor. “Do you think Mother knows how many relatives are floating about this
house?
Or that Uncle Ernest and Aunt Mary left for Bath yesterday with
only three of their five children?”

“More important,” Dillie continued with a nod, “do Uncle Ernest and Aunt Mary realize they are missing two of their children?”

“About those horses for Mr. Cameron,” Lily said, now restored to
better humor, “I’ll stop by Laurel’s this afternoon on my way home from the Royal Society meeting and ask her to assist him.”

“Och, ye’re a braw, bonnie lass, and I’m that sorry m’beastie shed his fur all over yer new riding frock!” Dillie, ever irritating, took Lily’s face into her hands and kissed her on the nose just as Mr. Cameron had
done yesterday. Then she released Lily and marched out of their
bedchamber pretending to play bagpipes while dancing a jig.

Lily sighed.

Sometimes, she hated being a twin.

***

Lily spent the rest of the morning corresponding with friends and playing Duck, Duck, Goose with her cousins. When the little ones were sent up for their naps, she decided to pay a call on Eloise, hoping to learn a bit more about Ewan Cameron. Clearly, he had not
been raised to assume the dukedom, for he had little knowledge of polite society
and little desire to learn. He had a gruff manner and the rough hands of a man used to hard labor. He also had the brawny good looks of a warrior.

On him, a very nice combination.

Oh, how had that thought slipped in? She cleared her throat and paused at Eloise’s front door to ring the bell.

“Lady Dayne is not at home,” her butler informed Lily. “Shall I leave word that you stopped by?”

“No, Watling. It isn’t important.”

She returned to the Farthingale residence and prepared for the Royal Society meeting. Today’s lecture was to be on geological formations. For that staid affair, she chose a midnight blue pelisse over a light gray frock, selected a midnight blue reticule and pair of
gray lace gloves, and then completed the outfit with a stylish hat topped with a gray feather.

Finally, she nudged her new spectacles firmly onto the bridge of her nose, framed a few playful curls at the nape of her neck, and marched downstairs to join her uncle, also an admirer of the Royal
Society and the lectures offered to the public.

“I haven’t had the chance to speak to Eloise or this Mr. Cameron
yet,” her uncle George said as they climbed into one of the
Farthingale carriages.

“Don’t trouble yourself.” She settled against the black leather squabs. “There’s something you ought to know. Something I ought
to have mentioned last night.”

Her uncle leaned forward.

She proceeded to tell him of Mr. Cameron’s connection to the
Duke of Lotheil.

“I suspected as much.”