“I haven’t seen her in a while, so I don’t know much more than I’ve already told you. I’m certain you and Meggie will become fast friends.”
“I look forward to meeting her.”
“Good. Then it’s settled. You’ll join me at Lotheil Court. Did you know the duke has one of the finest libraries in England?”
She nodded. “I’m eager to see it. Do you think he’ll allow me a view of it?”
“Ewan will give you a tour if his grandfather won’t. Run along and ready yourself, child. We haven’t much time.”
Within the hour, she and Eloise were in the Dayne carriage on their way to the duke’s imposing residence. Lily had known the place would be impressive, but she wasn’t prepared for its palatial size or splendor. Built in the style of a Grecian temple, Lotheil Court had soaring marble columns and an enormous fountain in the center of the circular drive. The duke stood at the top of the porticoed steps, staring down at them with arms folded across his chest.
His thick head of white hair matched the color of those soaring portico columns, and he looked every bit as grand as his home. So did Ewan, who stole Lily’s breath away as she gazed at him standing at the foot of the steps, his arms folded across his broad chest and his brow furrowed in that same look of determination his grandfather had on his face.
She imagined the two men would be appalled to realize how closely they resembled each other. They looked like a matched pair of fire irons—stiff, unbendable—and both had the same, stubborn set to their jaws.
A young woman stood beside Ewan. Her long hair was a shade redder than her brother’s. Her eyes were a lighter green than his, more of a sea green, and showed signs of crying recently.
“That’s Meggie,” Eloise told Lily. “She’s a sweet-looking girl. Poor thing, she looks as out of place here as a donkey in a henhouse.”
Lily agreed.
The footmen lining the steps were more finely dressed than either Ewan or Meggie, she noted. Indeed, even the duke’s gardener went about his work in more stylish clothes.
Ewan strode toward the carriage to greet Eloise and help her down.
He smiled as he turned to Lily. “Glad ye made it, lass. What do ye think of the place? A braw paffle, is it no’?” He took her by the waist and lifted her into the air as though she weighed no more than a feather.
She grabbed his shoulders for support, not surprised to find them hard and muscled. “Oh, yes. Quite braw and extremely paffled.”
Chuckling, he set her down beside him but didn’t release her.
She had to admit, this was an excellent way to descend from a carriage.
“Come, Lily. I’d like you to meet Meggie.” His warm breath tickled her ear and his fingers lingered at her waist, his touch light and at the same time possessive. Little tingles of heat ran up her body and shot down to her toes before racing upward again. A delightful flutter began deep in her stomach, as though it housed a thousand dancing butterflies.
She took a deep breath to steady herself and inhaled Ewan’s scent, an earthy scent of pine forest, clean and pure and rugged. “Meggie’s been crying since she arrived,” he said in a whisper. “I can no’ make her stop.”
Lily’s gaze darted to his sister. Poor thing. But what could she do? “I’ll try my best to cheer her.”
Ewan tossed her a lopsided smile. “Och, lass. That would be grand.”
Oh, his smile! The butterflies in her stomach were now dancing themselves into a frenzy.
When he made quick introductions, Meggie graced her with a hesitant smile and Lily returned it warmly. She noted that the duke had not deigned to descend the few steps to greet them but was waiting for them to climb the steps to reach him.
Eloise walked up them assisted by Meggie, who had a hand on her arm. Ewan had tried to offer, but she’d dismissed him with some nonsense about not seeing Meggie for ages and wanting to catch up with all that had happened since Eloise’s last visit north.
Ewan was left with his arm sticking out conspicuously, so he offered it to Lily. “By the way, what’s a paffle?” she asked as they approached the duke, who had escorted Eloise and Meggie into the entry hall.
He chuckled. “A bit o’ land.”
She looked about, her gaze once more falling upon the ducal residence in all its white marble splendor. “Indeed, it’s quite a paffle.” The gleaming entry hall was two stories high and full of light from an elevated row of windows. The light reflected off the black and white marble tile floor. One wall of the sparsely furnished hall contained an enormous mirror edged in gold leaf and, under it, a mosaic table of Arabian design.