To this young innocent, he must look like his heathen warrior ancestors, lacking only blue paint on his face and battle axe in his hand to complete the image. “Lass, may I ask your name?”
She didn’t appear ready to give it, but whatever she meant to say was drowned out by the sound of a carriage rumbling toward them. It turned out to be three gleaming black carriages rolling through the townhouse gate from which she’d emerged a short while ago, each led by a pair of high-stepping matched bays.
He let out a long, low whistle, admiring the horses and wondering who had picked them out. They were magnificent, but he didn’t bother to ask the girl standing at his side. It wasn’t something the pampered daughter of a wealthy household was likely to know. Then again, the young thing was not the typical society debutante. Och, she was pretty enough, but there was a scholarly earnestness about her that he found appealing, though a bit unusual.
A girl who looked remarkably like the one at his side, same black hair and striking blue eyes, popped her head out of the third carriage. “Lily, you’re missing Lady Turbott’s tea!” she cried as it passed by.
He turned in dismay to the girl he now understood was called Lily. “Lass, it seems I’ve ruined your entire day.”
“Please don’t give it another thought, Mr. Cameron. My family will never notice,” she assured him with a wistful sigh.
“I can no’ believe that.” Were she his daughter, gazing up at him with those vibrant eyes and the obvious intelligence behind them, he’d have a hard time forgetting her.
“Oh, they love me,” she hastened to explain, obviously noting his darkening expression. “I’m not at all neglected, as you can see by the quality of my new gown… well, no… never mind about that. My sister and I are identical twins, you see. I suppose it’s obvious. She’ll pretend to be me and no one will be the wiser. That’s all I meant by it. The arrangement has worked quite well so far. I’ve already missed several of these society affairs because of my studies and never been reprimanded for it.”
He quirked an eyebrow.
“Not that I’m proud of the deception, mind you,” she continued, the momentary downcast of her eyes revealing that she felt some remorse for her wrongdoing. “But the scholarly work is so interesting, and sometimes these affairs can be so deadly dull. Dillie—that’s my sister—doesn’t mind helping me out at all.”
“I’m surprised ye have no’ been caught yet. You’re not entirely alike,” he said with a shake of his head. “Your eyes are a more vivid blue than your sister’s, and your features softer, like the soft coat on a newborn lamb.”
She blushed. “Oh, that’s a lovely thing to say. Thank you. Er, you did mean it as a compliment, didn’t you?”
He nodded. “That I did, Lily.”
She slipped the book out of his hands. “I had better change my gown. Goodbye, Mr. Cameron. I hope Lady Dayne finds you a nice place to live.”
CHAPTER 2
“WHY DIDN’T YOU tell Lily that you’re to reside with your grandfather?”
“I did no’ wish to involve myself in long explanations,” Ewan said, feeling too big for his delicate silk chair. He and Lady Eloise Dayne were sitting in the drawing room of her imposing residence at Number 5 Chipping Way, situated on one of the prettiest streets in the elegant district of Mayfair.
Though Eloise had made him feel quite welcome, Ewan knew he was out of place amid the clamor and clatter of London, with its smoke-filled air, muddy Thames waters, and crowded streets. He couldn’t wait to fulfill the damn promise and return to his Highlands home. Indeed, he already missed the dark, soaring crags and windswept valleys as lush and green as the eye could see in summertime. By fall, those valleys took on a soft, purple hue, and by winter they were a rugged brown, dotted with patches of white snow.
The crystal loch waters remained eternally blue, as deep and bright a blue as Lily’s sparkling eyes, he realized, but dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come to mind. “Besides, I have no’ been to Lotheil Court yet and do no’ know where it is.”
As Eloise leaned forward in her chair, the gray silk of her gown rustled like wind through one of those Highland valleys. “Then you are the only man in this fair city who doesn’t know that the London residence of the Duke of Lotheil is located off Knightsbridge in Belgravia. You could have asked Lily, she would have told you.”
“And reveal to her that I’m the duke’s grandson? Och, no. There’ll be none of that for me. The lass might get ideas.”